g-room, there came over Mary a lost feeling
amid the strange faces and voices--a bewildered, dizzy feeling, such as
the semi-conscious opium-eater might have, half real, half dreaming. It
was all so strange, so separate from her, as though, herself invisible,
she was watching a festival among a different order of beings. Everybody
was coming and going, continually varying his pastime, while she sat as
unobserved as though invisible. Occasionally an eye-glass was leveled at
her, or some lady accidentally placed beside her superciliously
inspected the lace and green brocade.

Mrs. Van Pelt found her in the course of the evening, and insisted that
she should go to the dancing-room and see the dancing. Mary begged to
remain seated where she was. She dreaded any move that would render her
more conspicuous, and dreaded especially being recalled to Christian's
mind. But the hostess insisted, so the wretched girl crept out of her
retreat, and with a dizzy step traversed the parlors and halls to the
dancing-rooms. The band was playing a delicious waltz, and graceful
ladies and elegant gentlemen were moving to its measures. Mary's eyes
soon discovered Christian waltzing with a young girl in a rose-colored
silk. She was not a marked beauty, but the face was refined and pretty,
and was uplifted to Christian's with a look of listening interest. A
pang of jealousy shot through Mary's heart as she saw this and noted the
close embrace in which Christian held his partner, with his face bent
down to hers. Soon they came whirling by.

"There is Christian with Miss Jerome," said Mrs. Van Pelt. "Her father
is said to be worth four millions."

The next moment Mrs. Van Pelt was called away, and Mary was again left
to her isolation. With a dread of having Christian see her there,
old-fashioned and neglected, a stranger to every individual in the
assemblage of wealth and fashion, she slipped quietly away into the
library, where some elderly people were playing whist. She would have
gone home, but she lived in an obscure street some distance away. With a
sense of suffocation she now remembered that she would have to recall
herself to Christian's mind, for she must depend upon him to see her
home. "He has not thought of me once this evening," she said bitterly.
Soon supper was announced. Gentlemen and ladies began to pair off, not
one mindful of her. She was hesitating between remaining there in the
library and going unattended to the refreshme