“This face looks familiar to me. I must certainly have met the original before.” “Of course you have, it is Fanny Day. You were quite well acquainted with her in Philadelphia, and I trust you cannot so soon have forgotten an old friend,” I said; and scarcely was the remark made, when the object of it entered the room. This time there was no mistaking the glow upon the gentleman’s face; but Fanny’s cheek was quite colorless as she returned his greeting. Unfortunately for me, on this very evening, a young gentleman of prepossessing appearance, and a stranger to me, called. Unfortunately in the _dénouement_, I mean. I was very much pleased with him, and thought him quite like Harry Lambert; although I wondered in what this likeness consisted, for there were no general points of resemblance either in person or manners between them. Very soon, however, I found it to consist in the fact that _they were both lovers_. It _is_ unpleasant to find one’s self completely thrown upon the back-ground. I _know_ that I am not naturally envious; but I could not help feeling akin to chagrin and disappointment upon perceiving the state of things; yet it was not _envy_. I am sure I did not care one bit that Fanny and Caroline should each have some one so completely absorbed in their interests, as to be indifferent to every thing else, for it made them happy; and I like to see people enjoy themselves. But I _did_ think it looked stupid, or narrow-minded, or something of the sort, of any persons to be so intent upon _themselves_, as to take no notice of others, and so I told the ladies after their visiters were gone, I said— “Caroline, are the people here in the habit of giving invitations to tea?” “Oh, yes,” she replied; “you will be overwhelmed with them, Marie, in a little time: but why do you ask?” “Because I shall be very glad, in the words of the song, ‘——if any one invites me out to tea, For ’tis very dull to stay at home with no one courting me,’” I replied, poutingly. Caroline looked at Fanny, and both laughed. “Poor Mae,” the former said, in a coaxing tone, putting her arm around me, “it was _too_ bad of us; but never mind, the next time we will behave better.” “I do hope you will,” I answered, “for it is extremely annoying when you are playing your best pieces, and think you have succeeded in charming the company, upon taking a sly peep to observe the effect, to find them coupled off, and each enjoying a quiet _tête-à-tête_; evidently regarding the music only as a happy means of getting rid of one who would otherwise be very much in the way.” “You are not jealous, of course,” said Caroline, with a comic laugh. “Certainly I am not,” I replied. “I think beaux extremely disagreeable.” “Messieurs Russell and Lambert particularly so, I presume,” Caroline remarked.