At last the fatal time arrived to go to bed.  Aurora was much too sensible to cry, or be cross, you must know, but as she closed the door of the drawing-room and left the gay company, a sigh very heavy for so young a heart to have breathed, escaped her, and it was slowly she retraced her steps up stairs.  She was in reality tired, for it was later than her usual bed-time, and when she went into her room she threw herself on the chair and yawned.  The young Nurse who attended to undress her, asked her if she had enjoyed herself.  “Oh yes!” was her ready answer.  “All is so bright, and gay, and entertaining among those ladies, and they are so good-natured to me,”—­(another sigh coupled with the recollection of, and how much they admire me!)—­“But I do so hate being a little girl, and having to go to bed.  I wish the time would come quicker for me to be grown up, and be down stairs altogether, and talk, and enjoy myself all the evening!” Oh, Aurora, Aurora, with that dissatisfied face where is your beauty? with that discontented mind where is your happiness?

“Your charm is not working perfectly, Sister,” observed Euphrosyne to Ianthe.

“Her’s is not the age for perfect happiness and enjoyment as a beauty, remember,” replied Ianthe, “and she feels this herself.”

“Man never is but always to be blest,” cried Ambrosia laughing.  “You see I can quote their own poets against them.”

“You are prejudging now, Ambrosia, wait till another ten years is over; but we must see our little beauty through the twenty-four hours.”  Ianthe now waved a tiny wand in a circle around Aurora’s head,—­the long eyelashes sank over her eyes, and the beautiful child fell into a sweet and placid sleep.

Morning, which awakens all young creatures to life, enjoyment, and action, awoke Aurora among the rest, and she arose in health and strength, and the full glow of animal spirits. “This is happiness, however,” exclaimed Ianthe to her companions, as the young girl sprang about, carolling to herself the while.  And so it was, for at that moment no forecastings into futurity disturbed the comfort of present pleasure:  but an accidental glimpse of her face caught in a looking-glass as she passed, recalled Aurora to the recollection of HERSELF! and the admiration she had obtained the evening before.  At first some pleasure attended the remembrance, and she gazed with a childish triumph at her pretty face in the glass.  In a few minutes, however, the voice of her Governess calling her to lessons disturbed the egotistical amusement, and the charming Aurora frowned—­yes, frowned! and looked cross at the looking-glass before she quitted the apartment.