r assertion, he was so affable in his
salutations to the young men. Desmond turned from the piano when he
heard his father's voice, and caught sight of me. He started toward
me; but his attention was claimed by one of the gentlemen, who had
been giving me a prolonged stare, and he dropped back on his seat,
with an indifferent air, answering some question relating to myself.
He looked as when I first saw him--flushed, haughty, and bored. His
hair and dress were disordered, his boots splashed with mud; and it
was evident that he did not intend to appear at the party.

Adelaide called me to remain by her; but I slipped away when I thought
no more would arrive, and sought a retired corner, to which Mr. Somers
brought Desmond's friends, introducing them as the sons of his college
chums, and leaving them, one lolling against the mantel, the other
over the back of a chair. They were muzzy with drink, and seemed to
grow warm, as I looked from one to the other, with an attentive air.

"You are visiting in Belem," said one.

"That is true," I replied.

"It is too confoundedly aristocratic for me; it knocks Beacon Street
into nothingness."

"Where is Beacon Street?"

"Don't you know _that_? Nor the Mall?"

"No."

Our conversation was interrupted by Ben, whom I had not seen since the
day before. He had been out of town, transacting some business for
his father. We looked at each other without speaking, but divined each
other's thoughts. "You _are_ as true and noble as I think you are,
Cassy. I must have it so. You _shall not_ thwart me." "Faithful
and good Ben,--do you pass a sufficiently strict examination upon
yourself? Are you not disposed to carry through your own ideas without
considering _me_?" Whatever our internal comments were, we smiled upon
each other with the sincerity of friendship, and I detected Mr. Digby
in the act of elevating his eyebrows at Mr. Devereaux, who signified
his opinion by telegraphing back: "It is all over with them."

"Hey, Somers," said the first; "what are you doing nowadays?"

"Pretty much the same work that I always have on hand."

"Do you mean to stick to Belem?"

"No."

"I thought so. But what has come over Des. lately? He is spoony."

"He is going backward, may be, to some course he omitted in his career
with you fellows. We must run the same round somehow, you know."

"He'll not find much reason for it, when he arrives," Mr. Devereaux
said.

Miss Munster joined us, with t