Because of Conscience by Amy Ella Blanchard

Mathilde was in a flutter of excitement. For the first time since her marriage she meant to give an entertainment to her friends. Small evening companies were quite a usual thing among the lively French emigrants, and an excuse to entertain one's friends was seldom wanting. Alaine had declared that she had no heart to dance, but Mathilde had a fertile brain; there should be something else. She, so deft with brush and needle, would arrange some tableaux. These would help to occupy Alaine and give her something new to think about. She had been under such a nervous strain and needed diversion. Mathilde quite appreciated Michelle's concern; they must rouse this triste Alaine. Life was sad enough at best, why not try to put some joy into it? Therefore Mathilde flitted about like some small bright-eyed bird, singing as she worked. Her slim, clever little fingers gave a twist to this, a touch to that, and lo, an artistic result.

"You are far more clever than I," Alaine would say, admiringly, "and yet I thought myself not deficient in embroidery and flower-painting. The sisters used to say I was an industrious pupil. Those lovely laces, Mathilde, where did you get them? And those muslins, so beautiful they are."