rs to avoid comment for my absence.

In the merry company now assembled below I could scarcely have been
missed, I think, for the Italian chaises had but just that moment
appeared to bear us away to the Fort, and the gentlemen were clustered
about Lady Coleville, who, encircled by a laughing bevy of pretty
women, was designating chaise-partners, reading from a list she held in
her jeweled hands. Those already allotted to one another had moved
apart, standing two and two, and as I entered the room I saw Walter
Butler give his arm to Rosamund Barry at Lady Coleville's command, a
fixed smile hiding his disappointment, which turned to a white grimace
as Lady Coleville ended with: "Carus, I entrust to your escort the Hon.
Elsin Grey, and if you dare to run off with her there are some twenty
court-swords ready here to ask the reason why. Sir Henry, will you take
me as your penance?"

"Now, gentlemen," cried Sir Peter gaily, "the chaises are here; and
please to remember that there is no Kissing-Bridge between Wall Street
and the Battery."

Elsin Grey turned to me, laying her soft white hand on mine.

"Did you hear Mr. Butler sing?" she whispered. "Is it not divine enough
to steal one's heart away?"

"He sings well," I said, gazing in wonder at her ball-gown--pale
turquoise silk, with a stomacher of solid brilliants and petticoat of
blue and silver. "Elsin, I think I never saw so beautiful a maid in all
my life, nor a beautiful gown so nobly borne."

"Do you really think so?" she asked, delighted at my bluntness. "And
you, too, Carus--why, you are like a radiant one from the sky! I have
ever thought you handsome, but not as flawless as you now reveal
yourself. Lord! we should cut a swathe to-night, you and I, sir,
blinding all eyes in our proper glitter. I could dance all night, and
all day too! I never felt so light, so gay, so eager, so reckless. I'm
quivering with delight, Carus, from throat to knee; and, for the rest,
my head is humming with the devil's tattoo and my feet keeping time."

She raised the hem of her petticoat a hand's breadth, and tapped the
floor with one little foot--a trifle only. "That ballet figure that we
did at Sir Henry's--do you remember?--and the heat of the ballroom, and
the French red running from the women's cheeks? To-night is perfect,
cool and fragrant. I shall dance until I die, and go up to heaven in
one high, maddened whirl--zip!--like a burning soul!"

We were descending the stoop n