"Lawrence was right. Beauty is a great power, and I am beautiful. I know it in a thousand ways, but best of all by the homage of men and the envy of women. Both are sweet to me. I love to see these envious creatures turn pale and whisper their venom to each other, as I am besieged by the attentions of their favorites. At first I was a little timid about asserting the power that I felt myself to possess. Mr. Dennison, I thought, might be displeased, were his wife to accept the position offered her as a belle and leader in the best social circles of the South. I think he was at first annoyed by the great popularity which followed my advent into society, but I soon forgot to notice these indications, and resolved to live my life whether he was pleased or not. After all, there is a great deal in this world worth living for besides love as a grand passion. The adoration which others are forced to give you has its charms; besides, there arise episodes of love in one's life, which come and go like the rosy dawn and golden sunset of a summer-day, which for the time charm one's heart out of its one deep passion. In society here I forget how deeply I loved that one man, and better still, I forget to think of my husband. For his sake my heart was thrown back upon itself, and he had become the cause of my humiliation; but for that, Lawrence might have been my slave, as other men have been, and will be, so long as I allow them to kneel at the altar of my vanity. Had I remained at the plantation, this conviction would, I do believe, have deepened into hatred of my husband; but I was too pleasantly occupied, brain and sense, for any deep feeling to reach me in that whirl of society; just then it would have been as impossible for me to hate, as to love my husband. I simply cared nothing about him, save as he was the source from whence I obtained gold in which to frame my beauty. Without that, half my power would have disappeared. "Lawrence was right. The time has come when I am a careless, brilliant, beautiful coquette, and this he has made me. 'Then,' he said, 'we can meet in safety and play with the foam of life pleasantly, as it is tossed to our feet by the waves of society.' "I understand all this now. When I am heartless, and altogether given up to vanity, he will not be afraid of loving me, because, to a man like him, love for a woman so transformed would be impossible. But am I transformed? Is not the old nature still alive in my bosom? I have no time for a serious answer. The foam he speaks of is mounting too whitely around my feet.