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THE STORY OF A BLUE VEIL.

siding genius of the cuisine, and looked as if he had lived on bon bons and meringues all his life.

I was informed that it was necessary that I should look my best-for you must know this was to be a very grand ball, indeed ! So a charming little tulle dress, fresh from Paris, a floating mass of flounces and shining strips of white satin, was chosen for my parure. When the evening arrived, I acknowledge to having been pleased with my own reflection in the glass. I ran to display myself to my aunt with more vanity than I thought was in me. She was still in the hands of her maid, and hardly dared to move for fear she should disarrange something ; but, somehow, she managed to " take me in, " and expressed her most complete approbation.

"You look quite lovely, dear ; I am proud of you," she said.

I bent over her ever so lightly, and gave her a little kiss of thanks, and then ran down stairs to have a look at the rooms.

The musicians were already grouped in their especial corner, and were making the most discordant and hideous sounds tuning their various instruments. There was to be a band, too, on the lawn, away down near the Cliffs, and I could just hear the wail of the French-horn in the distance. This jumble of sounds was anything but agreeable, and I put my hands to my ears that I might not hear.

Flowers were everywhere, in vases, pyramids and garlands-the fragrance was delicious. I made the round of the rooms, picking up any fallen leaves I saw, and rearranging a flower here and there. On a favorite little table of my own, which stood in the bay-window of the library, I spied a lovely bouquet of double violets and tube-roses. "For me, of course," I said to myself. "What a dear, thoughtful boy Redwood is !" I picked it up and found a note attached to the ribbon. The bandwriting was strange, and I broke the seal with considerable curiosity. There were very few words.

"DEAR MISS ANTOINEETE—Pray accept my flowers, and do me the honor to dance the cotillion with me this evening. I have ascertained from your cousin that your are disengaged, so feel a delightful certainty that you cannot refuse me. Always yours very sincerely,

"GERARD FAUNTLEROY."

I declared to myself that there had never been anything half so disagreeable or presumptuous, and almost made up my mind to give up dancing for the entire evening. But I had taken the ball- fever, and was already longing for a waltz ; so I concluded to make the best of it, and tried to be gracious, and thank Mr. Fauntleroy for his bouquet when, later in the evening, he hunted me out in the crowd.

It was a pretty ball, and I enjoyed the cotillion immensely. Redwood was delighted with me, and told me that I was the handsomest girl in the room.

"What did I tell you?" he said, in a whisper ; " By George ! there is not one here who can compare with you. I am more than half in love with you myself. As for Fauntleroy, he's gone ! done for!"

I called him a silly boy, and thought it. Mr. Fauntleroy was very attentive and nice, but not in the least lover-like; and when I looked at him, I could not fancy his ever being in such a sentimental position, he was so big, and bland, and indifferent.

The band was playing the Wild Fang; but I was getting lazy, and thought the exertion of a galop would be too much.

"Suppose we take a turn on the piazza?" suggested my partner. "A breath of air will be a relief after this hot room."

He found a light shawl for me, and we made our way through the brilliant crowd out upon the dim, cool piazza. Then he pulled up a couple of low, easy-chairs, and we were soon chatting quite cozily, like old friends.

We found it so pleasant, and I was just tired enough to feel a disinclination to move, but a certain charm in listening to the music, the slide of the dancers' feet on the waxed-floor, and the continuous, lively hum of many voices.

"I shan't dance again," I said. "I think it much nicer here."

"Yes, I find it much nicer," responded my partner.

"I am afraid you are indolent, Mr. Fauntleroy. I noticed you did not dance at all before the cotillion."

"Did I not ?" he said, indifferently. "I believe you are right, though. Too much of it bores me."

"Have you been bored tonight?"

He laughed rather oddly.

"Miss Tony, you are the last person I should have suspected of being a coquette."

"And I am not a coquette," I said, hastily, and repenting of my silly question.

Redwood here rushed out upon us, breathless,

"I have been looking for you two every where. We are going to have the last figure, and there won't be enough without you; and Fauntleroy, I won't have you making love to