right and happy, as he made his way through the
crowd, with the proud bearing and haughty mien in which she delighted.
How long would it be before he reached her?--Oh, that the room were
smaller, or that she had been nearer the door. It seemed an age while he
was shaking hands with Mrs. Arlington. But who is that pretty girl on
his arm? Could it be his cousin Marie? He has taken her to a seat, and
is moving down the room. The hot blood rushed to her cheeks. Someone
asked her to dance. "Oh, not yet," she replied, scarcely heeding who it
was that asked her. Louis sees her, and is coming towards her. How her
heart bounded, her joy and happiness was so great. She hid her glowing
face behind her fan, to conceal her confusion. Another moment and he was
by her side, greeting her cordially. "Oh, Louis," and she smiled upon
him, O so sweetly. "You did not expect to see me to-night," he said,
looking very contented and triumphant. But there was something in the
expression of his face which she did not like--something that seemed to
freeze up all the warmth of her feelings in an instant. Was it that he
thought she was too ready to show what she felt, with so many present
who might observe any unusual degree of pleasure on her part. Oh, surely
not, for she had been so careful--as careful as it was in human nature
to be.

"Was that your cousin," she asked, "that you brought with you?"

"No! that--is--my wife--" he said, with a look of triumph.

"Your wife! Why, what do you mean?" she inquired, thinking he was
jesting.

"Just what I say," he replied. Then, with insufferable insolence, he
hissed in her ear, "Louis Taschereau never forgives."

"Indeed," she answered, assuming an air of indifference that surprised
even herself; for she had felt the hot, indignant blood, coursing
through her veins.

"Really," he said, with cool effrontery, "that assumption of
indifference is sublime. But I am not deceived," he continued, with a
scornful laugh; "my revenge is most complete, my plans have been
entirely successful," and making her a low bow, he retired. And Isabel
was left to her own thoughts. But this would not do; she must not--dare
not--think; she must have excitement until she could be quite alone.
Fortunately, Harry now claimed her as his partner. "Oh, Harry," she
said, "I am so tired of sitting here."

"Why, I asked you for the last dance, and you wouldn't come," answered
Harry, laughing.

"I didn't think it would have laste