Winthrop's most
intimate friends."
"That, I presume, speaks volumes in his favor," I said, perhaps with a
touch of sarcasm in my voice.
"Yes; Mr. Winthrop is an unerring judge of character; that is, of late
years."
"Well, I would nearly as soon think of marrying Daniel Blake as this Mr.
Bovyer. I have never been in love, but I have an idea what it is," I
said, following Mrs. Flaxman to her room.
"But Mr. Bovyer might teach you. Did you ever read Shakespeare's
Midsummer Night's Dream?"
"Oh, yes; and of Titania and Bottom of course, but that was only a
dream--Mr. Bovyer is a very solid reality. But I must not stay here
gossiping. Mr. Winthrop will be waiting for my description of the music."
I slipped into my own room to lay aside my wraps, still smiling over Mrs.
Flaxman's childish ideas respecting Mr. Bovyer in the _role_ of a lover,
and also a little troubled about the wording of the report I was expected
to give. His smile would be more sarcastic than ever, if I confessed my
tears; and, alas, I had but little other impression to convey of the
majestic harmonies than one of profound sadness. I glanced into my
mirror; the picture reflected back startled me. In the handsome gown,
with the same gems that had once enhanced my mother's charms, the
transformation wrought was considerable; but my eyes were shining with a
deep, unusual brilliancy, and a new expression caused by the influences
of the evening had changed my face almost beyond my own recognition.
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