later, her arms relaxed and sank; she sighed, knowing not why she
sighed.

Ah, Miss Lady, if only it could be for ever morning for us all! Nay,
let us say not so. Let us say rather that this sweet picture of Miss
Lady, doubled by the glass, remains to-day imperishably preserved in
the old mirror--the picture of Miss Lady dancing as the bird flies,
and then standing, plaintive and questioning, before her own image,
loving it because it was beautiful and friendly, dreading it because
she could not understand.

Miss Lady had forgotten that she was alone, and did not hear the step
at the door, nor see the hand which presently pushed back the
curtain. There stepped into the room, the tall, somewhat full figure
of a lady who stood looking on with eyes at first surprised, then
cynically amused. The intruder paused, laughing a low, well-fed,
mellow laugh. On the moment she coughed in deprecation. Miss Lady
sprang back, as does the wild deer startled in the forest. Her hands
went to her cheeks, which burned in swift flame, thence to drop to
her bosom, where her heart was beating in a confusion of throbs,
struggling with the reversed current of the blood of all her tall
young body.

"Mamma!" she cried. "You startled me." "So it seems," said the new-
comer. "I beg your pardon. I did not mean to intrude upon your
devotions."

She came forward and seated herself-a tall woman, a trifle full of
figure now, but still vital of presence. Her figure, deep-chested,
rounded and shapely, now began to carry about it a certain air of