"

The first part of the afternoon was spent pleasantly enough in strolling
about the gardens, or in sitting down to watch the kaleidoscopic
brilliance of the scene. At intervals Martin was hailed by a
fellow-writer or club acquaintance, or Grizel by a friend from town, but
Katrine was never so addressed. Other girls less attractive than
herself flitted about with attendant cavaliers, or formed the centres of
merry groups. What was the use of being "unnecessarily good-looking,"
if no one were influenced thereby?

Across the sunshine of the scene shot grey shadows of depression. In
the midst of a crowd one could be so horribly alone! Among the hundreds
of guests crowding the green lawn, not one cared to pause by her side.
Even Martin and Grizel.--It was a hateful thought, Katrine fought
against it, but her heart acknowledged its truth,--they would be happier
without her! It was inevitable that the mind should leap to the
remembrance of the one man who _would_ have cared; who, entering by
those great gates, would have come swiftly forward, unsatisfied,
unseeing, till he had gained her side!

Across the intervening miles went out a warm, glad thought: "_He would
have cared_!" said Katrine's heart, and at the thought the sun shone
again.

"Excuse me one moment!" cried Martin hurriedly. "That man over there.--
I've been wanting to catch him for months..."

He darted across the lawn, and the two girls subsided into chairs,
afraid to leave the spot, lest in the crowd he might not be able to find
them on his return. Already Grizel was looking tired and spent; the
little face beneath the sweeping hat was white as a tired rose, but the
whimsical light shone bright as ever in the golden eyes as she turned
them on the passing throng, and from her lips bubbled an endless stream
of nonsense. It was difficult for a listener to preserve a due decorum
of manner as each group passed by, heralded by biographical sketches in
those low, rich tones.

"--Aunt Hepsibah and her niece Jane... County family. Redooced, but
proud. `A lace shawl,' says Auntie, `is _always_ le mode! And Jane
shall wear my bertha.' ... Mrs Ponsonby de Tompkins. Left cards
regularly for years past, angling for an invitation, and at long last
one arrived. A handsome new dress for the occasion! The very _best_
satin, and everything to match, Husband excepted! Ponsonby wishes to
goodness he'd never come! ... Rich Mr Stock-broker on the point of