ment, a simple diamond ring on one finger, and a flush of pride and ambition upon her fair cheeks. Dolly looked conscious of her beauty; she already in imagination had Philip at her feet, and saw herself sitting by his side in a Venetian gondola, listening to the love songs and choruses of minstrels, floating with the tide past Desdemona's window.
"Now, girls, are you ready?" asks Walter, putting his head just inside the doorway. "I see you are. That's right. Nothing like punctuality; and, by Jove, how well you look. I don't know which to admire most. But you have both your own individual styles of beauty. Dolly, you look like a picture I once saw in a book of beauty—one of the mezzotint school, called the Dove of Amsterdam; just as fair, just as soft, just as full of health and fun. Come along, Jenny; you need no compliments to maintain your courage. You have not to meet the momentous question of your life to-night; that was settled long ago, and you have never regretted it, have you, dear?"
"Never, Walter," she replied, "and I hope Dolly will be able to say the same with as clear a conscience as I can, ten years from now."
"Then, it is to be settled to-night, Walter, is it?" Dolly asks.
"I suppose so, my love. Jenny says so, Lady Forsyth says so—I called there on my way home this afternoon, and she was full of it—and I conclude that I am expected to say the same."
"And do you mean to say that before the door closes upon our two friends for the night, that I shall be engaged to marry one of them?"
"Well, I don't know that I go so far as that," said Walter; "I thought it was to be understood that if Forsyth accepted my invitation to accompany us to Italy, that would be considered as tantamount to a declaration."
