on a half-dead bush, but the same vegetable under a new name,--the
American Beauty Rose. Do you see the parable? And I've a great many
thorns on my long stem. Remember that also."




V



Betty, in accordance with a time-honoured habit, was the last to
arrive at the dinner-party on the following evening. She had arranged
her heavy large-waved hair low on her neck, and the pale green velvet
of her gown lifted its dull mahogany hue and the deep Southern
whiteness of her skin. She did not take a beautiful picture, for her
features had the national irregularity, but she seldom entered a room
that several men did not turn and stare at her. She carried herself
with the air of one used to commanding the homage of men, her lovely
colouring was always enhanced by dress, and she radiated magnetism. It
was such an alive, warm, buoyant personality that men turned to her as
naturally as children do to the maternal woman; even when they did not
love her they liked to be near her, for she recalled some vague ideal.
She knew her power perfectly, and after one or two memorable lessons
had put from her the temptation to give it active exercise. It should
be the instrument of unqualified happiness when her hour came;
meanwhile she cultivated an impersonal attitude which baffled men
unable to propose and tempered the wind to those that could.

During the few moments in the drawing-room she could gather only a