rtunate in his first love. She had died a few days before they
were to have been married--died by the hand of violence, and Castrani had
shot the rival who murdered her. Public opinion had favored the avenger,
and he had not suffered for the act, but ever since he had been a prey to
melancholy. He told Margie his history, and it aroused her pity; but when
he asked her love, she refused him gently, telling him that her heart was
another's. He had suffered deeply from the disappointment, but he did not
give up her society, as most men would have done. He still hovered around
her, content if she gave him a smile or a kind word, seeming to find his
best happiness in anticipating her every wish before it was uttered.

Toward the end of March Alexandrine Lee came to pass a few days with
Margie. Some singular change had been at work on the girl. She had lost
her wonted gayety of spirits, and was for the most part subdued, almost
sad. Her beautiful eyes seldom lighted with a smile, and her sweet voice
was rarely heard.

She came, from a day spent out, one evening, into Margie's dressing-room.
Miss Harrison was preparing for the opera. There was a new prima donna,
and Archer was anxious for her to hear the wonder. Margie had never
looked lovelier. Her pink silk dress, with the corsage falling away
from the shoulders, and the sleeves leaving the round arms bare, was
peculiarly becoming, and the pearl necklace and bracelets--Archer's
gift--were no whiter or purer than the throat and wrists they encircled.

Alexandrine stood a moment in the door, looking at the lovely picture
presented by her young hostess. A pang, vague and unacknowledged, wrung
her heart, and showed itself on her countenance. But she came forward
with expressions of admiration.

"You are perfect, Margie--absolutely perfect! Poor gentlemen! how I pity
them to-night! How their wretched hearts will ache!"

Margie laughed.

"Nonsense, Alex, don't be absurd! Go and dress yourself. I am going to
the opera, and you must accompany us."

"_Us_--who may that plural pronoun embody?"

"Myself--and Mr. Trevlyn."

"Ah! thank you. Mr. Trevlyn may not care for an addition to his nice
little arrangement for a _tete-a-tete_."

"Don't be vexed, Alexandrine. We thought you would pass the evening at
your friend's, and Archer only came in to tell me a few hours ago."

"Of course I am not vexed, dear," and the girl kissed Margie's glowing
cheek. "Lovers will be lovers the w