“How can you call them odious—the beauties?” said Mrs. Vivian, stooping down, and taking up a pair. And Oriole herself echoed the question with her eyes, as she fondled her mistress’s beautiful foot, in its case of white satin, soft and light as a snow-flake. “Oriole, did I not tell you to let my foot alone? Meda, clear away all this chaos from around me. Rosalie, my love, reach me the vinaigrette”—— “Can _I_ also do anything to serve you?” asked Mrs. Vivian, mischievously. “Yes, dear Valeria; just see that they hang the dresses up, and put away the cases and things, while I close my eyes upon this glare, and rest.” Mrs. Vivian arched her eyebrows, and did as she was bid, examining at her leisure the magnificent trousseau, as it was detailed off under her eye into various wardrobes and bureaus. Only once she interrupted the repose of Miss Sutherland, to ask her if the wedding-dress had come. “Meda, tell Mrs. Vivian about it,” said the languid beauty, scarcely lifting her long lashes. And the waiting-woman respectfully telegraphed the lady, and preceded her into the adjoining chamber, where upon the bed was laid the magnificent bridal costume of white brocaded satin, the superb veil of Honiton lace, and the beautiful chaplet of orange flowers. Mrs. Vivian beckoned Rosalie, and when the child stood by her side, they examined it together, and the mother tried to make the daughter understand how elegant, how costly, how _recherché_ was this costume. “And to think,” she said, “that India is so indifferent about a trousseau that would have turned my head when I was a girl. I don’t believe it _is_ indifference either; I believe it is affectation.” “No, it is not, mamma. She is really indifferent to all this. There is something troubles her. She was not resting when she sat so still. I saw her lips tremble and her eyelids quiver.” Mrs. Vivian cast a scrutinizing glance at the girl, thinking, “How is it that in some things she is observant?” But Rosalie, almost unconsciously, was repeating to herself the refrain of the song she had been reading:— “All that’s bright must fade.” “Rosalie, have done with that sentimental melancholy; it disturbs me; and it is untrue, besides. The best things are most enduring. And it is all nonsense, besides, to suppose that anything more serious than indolence troubles India. And now, my dear, do you know the programme of these bridal festivities and tour, as we arranged it yesterday?” “No,” said the young girl, trying to be interested. Mrs. Vivian dropped herself into an easy chair at the side of the bed, and Rose sank upon the cushion at her feet, and laid her head in the lady’s lap; and while Valeria ran her fingers caressingly through the soft ringlets of the child, she said—