"No," said Bessie; "I wish you would make it all right with Aunt Faith. I have a headache; the fright, I suppose." Hugh went off to his room, and in an incredibly short time he was down-stairs again, in evening dress. Aunt Faith came in a few moments afterwards, dressed in gray silk with delicate white lace around her throat and wrists; "Is it not time to go?" she said. "Where is Sibyl?" "Here, Aunt," said Sibyl from the parlor; "I have been ready some time." "Come in, child, and let us see you" Sibyl crossed the hall and stood in the door-way. Her dress of soft blue harmonized with her fair beauty, and brought out the tints of her hair and complexion; she wore no ornaments, and the flowing drapery floated around her devoid of any kind of trimming. "Her dress was nothing; just a plain, blue tarleton," said one of her companions the next day to a mutual friend. "But Sibyl herself looked lovely." This was Sibyl's art; her dress was always subordinate to herself. "You look like the evening star, sister," said Hugh. "Thank you, brother. A compliment from you is precious, because rare," said Sibyl, smiling; "and as for you, you look like the Apollo in Guido's _Aurora_." "Bravo! That's a compliment worth having," said Hugh, tossing back his golden locks. "And now that we are both gorged with compliments, let us start for the halls of Euterpe." "Where is Bessie?" said Aunt Faith, as Hugh rose. "She is not going. She has a headache," answered Hugh. "Poor child! I will run up and see her before I go." "That is not necessary, Aunt. I think she would rather not be disturbed," said Hugh. "Let us start; it is late."