THE EVENING STAR.
Notwithstanding her headache, however, Mrs. Redmain was going in
the evening to a small fancy-ball, meant for a sort of rehearsal
to a great one when the season should arrive. The part and
costume she had chosen were the suggestion of her own name: she
would represent the Evening Star, clothed in the early twilight;
and neither was she unfit for the part, nor was the dress she had
designed altogether unsuitable either to herself or to the part.
But she had sufficient confidence neither in herself nor her maid
to forestall a desire for Mary's opinion. After luncheon,
therefore, she sent for Miss Marston to her bedroom.
Mary found her half dressed, Folter in attendance, a great heap
of pink lying on the bed.
"Sit down, Mary," said Hesper, pointing to a chair; "I want your
advice. But I must first explain. Where I am going this evening,
nobody is to be herself except me. I am not to be Mrs. Redmain,
though, but Hesper. You know what Hesper means?"
Mary said she knew, and waited--a little anxious; for sideways in
her eyes glowed the pink of the chosen Hesperian clouds, and, if
she should not like it, what could be done at that late hour.
"There is my dress," continued the Evening Star, with a glance of
her eyes, for Folter was busied with her hair; "I want to know
your opinion of it." Folter gave a toss of her head that seemed
to say, "Have not _I_ spoken?" but what it really did mean,
how should other mortal know? for the main obstructions to
understanding are profundity and shallowness, and the latter is
far the more perplexing of the two.
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