Georgiana took no heed, but framed her pretty image in the glass, where she looked like a picture to which Titian had given the draperies, and Rubens the flesh-tints. As she stood admiring herself, as any pretty woman might, the door opened, and a stately old woman entered, rustling across the floor in a heavy black silk, and with quantities of white tulle softening her face and bosom. “Oh, Madam Halstead! I am so glad you’ve come! Tell me if this is not perfect?” “I never think you otherwise than perfect, child—who could?” replied the sweet, low voice of the old lady. “The very sight of you makes me young again.” “How handsome you must have been,” cried Georgie, throwing one arm around the old lady, and patting the soft cheek, which had a touch of bloom on it, with her dimpled hand. “How handsome you are now!” The old lady shook her head, and a faint blush stole over her face, and lost itself under the shadows of her silver-white hair. “Yes, dear, some few who loved me used to think so,” said the old lady. “Here comes Miss Eliza,” cried Georgiana, seizing upon a large cloak of black velvet, in which she enveloped her dress, and twisting a fleece-like nubia over her head, cried, “Good-night! Good-night! Just one kiss! Good-night!” Away the bright young creature went, sweeping out of the room, and down the stair case, like a tropical bird with all its plumage in motion. “Good-night!” she repeated to Miss Eliza, who loomed upon her from the extremity of the upper hall. “Don’t be too late; I’ll send the carriage back!” With a toss of her lofty head, and a wave of her hand, Miss Eliza seemed to sweep the young creature out of her presence; then she entered the room where old Mrs. Halstead was sitting in the easy-chair which her daughter had so lately abandoned, and paused inside the door, gazing upon that calm face with a look of mournful reproach. “Thus, ever thus, do I find the place I have left filled,” she said; “but my own mother, this is too much!” “Is it that you want the seat, Eliza,” said the old lady, gently lifting herself from the chair; “take it, I have rested long enough.” “Oh! my beloved parent, that you should make this sacrifice for me!” sighed Miss Eliza, dropping into the chair. “I know that your noble heart would be pained if I did not accept it. I do—I do!” That fine old lady had lived with her daughter too long for any surprise at this wonderful outgush of gratitude; she only moved to a couch on the other side of the room, and sat down, with a low sigh. Miss Eliza began to mutter and moan in her chair. “Are you ill? Is any thing the matter?” inquired the old lady. “Did you see that child go out? Did you comprehend the conspiracy which that wicked woman has organized to keep me out of these tableaux? Did you observe the impertinence of that flippant girl? Oh! mother, these terrible shocks will break your child’s heart!” “Eliza! Eliza! this is all fancy,” answered the old lady.