blind and a little deaf.

But it is the eternal law, that where sin is, sorrow shall answer it;
and in all this tumult and riot of feasting and dancing, Rose was sad
and disconsolate. It was not alone that she was aware of her distinct
loss of social estimation--aware that old friends shirked speaking to
her if they could; and that even her mother lost patience with her
vagaries and imprudences--it was not even the total silence of her
husband, and the appalling sense of loneliness that chilled her whole
life--there was a want greater than these, for it is not by bread
alone we live; there is a certain approval of conscience necessary
even to our physical existence, and without its all-pervading cement,
this wondrous union of self is not held healthily together. Rose had
not this blessed approval; and the flatteries of the crowd she feasted
did not make up for the sweet content that follows duty accomplished
and love fulfilled.

She had taken into her confidence a young girl called Ida Stirling.
She was exceedingly pretty and witty and sympathetic, and quite
inclined to share in all the mitigations of Rose's private hours. They
had luxurious little meals together, and they told each other their
secrets as they ate and drank. In this way Rose betrayed herself; she
gave to a stranger a confidence she had not given as fully to her
mother, and put her heart into her hands, either to comfort or to
despise. For a little while, the two women were inseparable; and on
Rose's side, at least, there was nothing hidden from her companion.

All January and February passed in this constant succession of
public and private entertaining; and the "affairs" began to pall,
even upon those who had nothing to do but enjoy them. The Van
Hoosen household grew notorious for its extravagance and its
disorder, and an indefinable _aura_ of contempt and indifference
began to pervade those who came together in Rose's fine reception
rooms. They no longer respected their hostess, they were often
barely civil to her; and yet they were only fulfilling that condition
Rose herself had anticipated--allowing her to find them a good
floor, good music, and wines and ices for their refreshment.
During February she suspected this feeling, but Ida Stirling, with
many assurances, had pacified her doubts. A little later, however,
she realized her position thoroughly; and she smarted under the sense
of the contemptuous acceptance of her hospitality.

"I shall