“Of course I enjoyed myself! But what has that to do with my wanting to go to-night?” “Oh, nothing. But I hope, Alice, that there is one thing you have looked fully in the face.” “What thing?” faltered the girl, and now showed herself unable to confront it by dropping her eyes. “Well, whatever you may have heard or seen, nobody else is in doubt about it. What do you suppose has brought Mr. Mavering here!” “I don't know.” The denial not only confessed that she did know, but it informed her mother that all was as yet tacit between the young people. “Very well, then, I know,” said Mrs. Pasmer; “and there is one thing that you must know before long, Alice.” “What?” she asked faintly. “Your own mind,” said her mother. “I don't ask you what it is, and I shall wait till you tell me. Of course I shouldn't have let him stay here if I had objected--” “O mamma!” murmured the girl, dyed with shame to have the facts so boldly touched, but not, probably, too deeply displeased. “Yes. And I know that he would never have thought of going into that business if he had not expected--hoped--” “Mamma!” “And you ought to consider--” “Oh, don't! don't! don't!” implored the girl. “That's all,” said her mother, turning from Alice, who had hidden her face in her hands, to inspect the costume on the bed. She lifted one piece of it after another, turned it over, looked at it, and laid it down. “You can never get such a dress in this country.” She went out of the room, as the girl dropped her face in the pillow. An hour later they met equipped for the evening's pleasure. To the keen glance that her mother gave her, the daughter's eyes had the brightness of eyes that have been weeping, but they were also bright with that knowledge of her own mind which Mrs. Pasmer had desired for her. She met her mother's glance fearlessly, even proudly, and she carried her stylish costume with a splendour to which only occasions could stimulate her. They dramatised a perfect unconsciousness to each other, but Mrs. Pasmer was by no means satisfied with the decision which she had read in her daughter's looks. Somehow it did not relieve her of the responsibility, and it did not change the nature of the case. It was gratifying, of course, to see Alice the object of a passion so sincere and so ardent; so far the triumph was complete, and there was really nothing objectionable in the young man and his circumstances, though there was nothing very distinguished. But the affair was altogether different from anything that Mrs. Pasmer had imagined. She had supposed and intended that Alice should meet some one in Boston, and go through a course of society before reaching any decisive step. There was to be a whole season in which to look the ground carefully over, and the ground was to be all within certain well-ascertained and guarded precincts. But this that had happened was outside of these precincts, of at least on their mere outskirts.