gracefully; and though she never wearied in her efforts, she would oftentimes sigh that they were so unsuccessful. She sometimes feared that her very anxiety to please, blinded her as to the best manner of doing so; and would often repeat with a sigh, after some new, and apparently useless effort— “Je le servirais mieux, si je l'eusse aimé moins.” The first thing to disturb the kind of quiet that Julia enjoyed, was the prospect of another party. One morning, while at the breakfast table, a card was brought in from Mr. and Mrs. Parker, who were to be “at home” on Friday evening. After looking at the card, Julia handed it to Mr. Westbury in silence. “It will be proper that we accept the invitation,” said Mr. Westbury. The remembrance of the agony she endured at the last party she attended, caused Julia's voice to tremble a little, as she said— “Just as you think best—but for my own part, I should seldom attend a party for the sake of enjoyment.” “If Mrs. Westbury thinks it proper to immure herself as if in a convent, she can,” said Mr. Westbury; “for myself, I feel that society has claims upon me that I wish to discharge.” “I will go if you think there would be any impropriety in my staying away,” said Julia. “Situated as you are, I think there would,” said Mr. Westbury. “Situated as I am!” thought Julia; “what does he mean? Does he refer to my station in society? or does he fear that the world will think me an unhappy wife, that wishes to seclude herself from observation?” In the course of the morning, Julia called on Mrs. Cunningham, and found that lady and her husband discussing the point, whether or not they should attend Mrs. Parker's party. “Are you going, Mrs. Westbury?” asked Mrs. Cunningham. “Yes—Mr. Westbury thinks we had better do so,” Julia replied. “Hear that, Edward!” said Mrs. Cunningham. “You perceive that Mr. Westbury likes that his wife should enjoy the pleasures of society.” {418} Mr. Cunningham looked a little hurt, as he said—“my dear Lucy, am I not _more than willing_ to indulge you in every thing that will add to your happiness? I have only been trying to convince you how much more comfortable we should be by our own fireside, than in such a crowd as must be encountered at Mrs. Parker's. For myself, the society of my wife is my highest enjoyment, and of her conversation I never grow weary.” “Thank you for the compliment, dear,” said Mrs. Cunningham—“and we will settle the question at another time.”