It _was_ bitter enough, and for a while I longed to get out of it all, and steal upstairs, and be by myself, but I knew for the present that was hopeless, so I did the wisest thing I could have done, viz., set to work to reason myself out of my discontent and folly, and tried the "dodge" recommended in the old Greek comedy, that is, "being revenged on fortune by becoming a philosopher." And a philosopher, in white muslin and coral, then and there I became; and in ten minutes, the pettishness had all vanished from my heart, and, _par conséquent_, from my face, and I was myself again. This was a strange termination of all my day-dreams; a strange entrée into the world; but no doubt it was the best thing that could have happened to me. Had I not promised to renounce it, and had it not been very wrong for me to have gone on hoping to reap some pleasure from it, notwithstanding? Was not this the kindest way to bring to my remembrance the vow and promise that I had so nearly forgotten. Was it not better for me to remember at the outset, that it and I were never to be in league, never to be other than enemies? That if "there was no way but this," this was not so very hard and cruel a way? Poor Frances upstairs, with her swollen eyes and wan face, had doubtless a harder yoke to bear in her youth than I had, and so, with a hundred other swollen-eyed and wan-faced girls whom I daily met in the streets. "Let's think on our marcies," I mentally ejaculated, quoting with a half smile, the words of old "Aunt Chloe" to her husband on their cruel parting. Which, by the way, is the finest passage in all that strange story of "Uncle Tom;" a passage unalloyed by affectation, exaggeration or false sentiment--simple, great, and heroic--worth twenty little Eva's dying speeches, and unnatural angelhood. After the lapse of an hour, I thought I might be allowed to keep my promise to Essie, so I stole quietly out of the gay crowd, and went up to my room. Esther had gone to sleep, and Frances, startled from an attitude of weeping, obeyed my permission to go down and watch the dancing for half an hour, while I should relieve guard and take care of the child, whose burning temples and restless moaning made me certain that it was not right to leave her alone. She did not wake up, however, during my vigil, and Frances came back very punctually. I kissed the little sleeper again, and with a very much sobered fancy, descended to the parlors. Mr. Rutledge stood at the foot of the stairs, and joined me as I reached the hall. "Hasn't _la petite_ gone to sleep yet?" he asked, offering me his arm. "Oh yes! some time ago." "Then you prefer upstairs to downstairs, even on gala nights?" he inquired, with a smile. "I don't know exactly," I answered; but at this moment, Phil made his appearance with the gentleman who had been at the dressing-room door when Essie had made her unexpected _début_.