By her window in the attic sat Dora Deane, poring over to-morrow's
lessons; but as the silvery voice of Ella fell upon her ear, she
arose, and going to her cousin's chamber, looked out upon the
party as they drew near the gate.
"How beautiful she is!" she whispered to herself, as, dropping her
shawl, and flinging back her golden curls, Ella sprang up to reach
a branch of locust blossoms, which grew above her head.
Then, as she saw how carefully Mr. Hastings replaced the shawl,
drawing his wife's arm within his own, she stole back to her room,
and, resuming her seat by the window, dreamed, as maidens of
thirteen will, of a time away in the future, when she, too, might
perhaps be loved even as was the gentle Ella Hastings.
* * * * *
CHAPTER VIII.
THE PARTY.
One pleasant July morning, the people of Dunwood were electrified
by the news that on Thursday evening, Mrs. Howard Hastings would
be at home to between one and two hundred of her _friends_.
Among the first invited was Eugenia, who had been Mrs.
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