ragraphs, addressed to "R. A.," have appeared in the London papers,
but without result. The world is growing tired of the miserable
scandal, and Ruth's disappearance ceases to be the one engrossing
topic of conversation at village teas and bar-room revelries.

To-night is fair enough to make one believe sin impossible. It is
touched by heaven; great waves of light, sent by the "silver queen of
night," lie languidly on tree and bower; the very paths are bright
with its stray beams.

"Bats and grisly owls on noiseless wings" flit to and fro, "and now
the nightingale, not distant far, begins her solitary song."

Within, music is sounding, and laughter, and the faint sweet dropping
of fountains. Clarissa, moving about among her guests, is looking
quite lovely in a pale satin trimmed heavily with old gold. She is
happy and quite content, though her eyes, in spite of her, turn
anxiously, every now and then, to the doorway.

Every one is smiling, radiant. Even Dorian, who is waltzing with any
one but the woman he desires, is looking gracious all through, and is
creating havoc in the bosom of the damsel who has rashly intrusted
herself to his care.

Cissy Redmond, in the arms of a cavalry-man, is floating round the
room, her unutterable little _nez retrousse_ looking even more
pronounced than usual. Her face is lit up with pleasurable excitement;
to her--as she tells the cavalry-man without hesitation--the evening
is "quite too awfully much, don't you know!" and the cavalry-man
understands her perfectly, and is rather taking to her, which is
undoubtedly clever of the cavalry-man.

He is now talking to her in his very best style, and she is
smiling,--but not at him.

Within the shelter of a door, directly opposite, stands Mr. Hastings,
and he is answering back her smile fourfold. He will not dance
himself,--conscience forbidding,--yet it pleases him to see his Cissy
(as she now is) enjoying herself. The band is playing "Beautiful
Ferns" dreamily, languidly; and I think at this very moment Mr.
Hastings's reverend toes are keeping excellent time to the music. But
this, of course, is barest supposition; for what human eye can
penetrate leather?

The waltz comes to an end, and Dorian, having successfully rid himself
of his late partner, draws Georgie's hand within his arm and leads her
into a conservatory.

Her late partner was a fat, kindly squire, who _will_ dance, but who,
at the expiration of each effort to eclipse T