"Mamma cares for nothing but the house and the bills!" thought Rose, as the parlor door closed upon her. "One would imagine such an offer as Antony's was worth a little talking about. But she always did dislike Antony--from the first--and I am sure I do not know why, unless because he is Yanna's brother. Well, Yanna is tiresome; that is the truth! No wonder mamma does not like her. And what Harry sees in such a cold, stately, pious girl, I cannot understand! I think I will go and make myself look a little pretty. One likes to leave a fine impression, even on a lover that is to be refused. But shall I say 'No' to Antony? To have millions of money! and diamonds to my heart's content! and the finest wedding of the season! and a year's European travel! and how the Greyson, and the Helper, and the Manton girls will envy me! and lots of others--and Dick! I do not care a cent for Dick! he sneaked away like a dog when Antony spoke to me. I hate Dick! I shall never notice him again. He will doubtless get an invitation to my wedding from some one, and if he feels heart-sick, it will serve him right." To this soliloquy she slowly mounted the stairs to her room, and there she stood a few minutes, considering. The result of this reflection was the withdrawal from her drawers of an exquisite gown of pale gray cashmere, and a little tippet of Delhi mull and Valenciennes lace. The ineffable softness and repose of this combination pleased her. "I look my sweetest in this gown," she thought, "and Antony has never seen it; but it will suit him, I know." Indeed, the dress affected Antony like a contrition and a confession. She looked, oh! she looked everything he could desire or imagine! And as Rose was always sensibly affected by the dress she wore, she naturally toned herself to her lovely and gentle appearance. The dress was in every way a fortunate one. It put Rose in the proper mood, and it gave Antony the proper courage. The one advantage reacted on the other; and Rose suffered her heart and her best instincts to lead her. For Antony brought to this question all the force of his character; he pleaded eloquently, with love in his eyes and on his tongue; nor did he neglect such material advantages as his wealth and his ability to grant her every one of her wishes gave him. He was perhaps disappointed that they had so much influence; but he was a patient, self-relying man, and he told himself that he must be grateful for Rose as she was, and trust to the future for the Rose that he foresaw as possible. So he took things on their present level, and talked so enthusiastically that Rose caught the mood from him, and their happy faces, leaning towards each other, shone with the thought of the joy before them. For Antony's desire--like all strong hopes--had fulfilled itself by its own energy. His love found its way to his face and to his gestures, made him expressive and impressive, and gave him that quality few can resist, which we call "presence."