ous son, who ran lightly down the stairs,
carrying a happier heart than he had known since Helen Lennox had first
come to New York, and he had met her at the depot.

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE DINNER PARTY.

It was a very select party which Wilford Cameron entertained that
evening; and as the carriages rolled to his door and deposited the
guests, the cloud which had been lifting ever since he came home and
found "no Barlow woman" there, disappeared entirely, leaving him the
blandest, most urbane of hosts, pleased with everybody--himself, his
guests, his sister-in-law, and his wife, who had never looked better
than she did to-night, in pearls and light blue silk, which harmonized
so perfectly with her waxlike complexion. Like some little fairy she
flitted through the rooms, receiving, with a sweet childlike grace the
kiss which Mrs. Banker gave her, but never dreaming from whom it came.
Aunt Betsy's proximity was wholly unsuspected, both by her and Helen,
who was very handsome to-night, in crimson and black, with lilies in her
hair. Nothing could please Mark better than his seat at table, where he
could look into her eyes, which dropped so shyly whenever they met his
ardent gaze. Helen was beginning to doubt the story of his engagement
with Juno, or at least to think that it might possibly have been broken
off. Certainly she could not mistake the nature of the attentions he
paid to her, especially to-night, when he hovered continually near her,
totally ignoring Juno's presence, and conscious apparently of only one
form, one face, and that the face and form of Helen Lennox.

There was another, too, who felt the influence of Helen's beauty, and
that was Lieutenant Bob, who, after dinner, attached himself to her
side, while around them gathered quite a group, all listening with peals
of laughter as Bob, who was something of a mimic, related his adventure
of two days before, with "the most rustic and charming old lady it was
ever his fortune to meet." Told by Bob the story lost nothing of its
freshness; for every particular, except indeed the kindness he had shown
her, was related, even to the sheep pasture, about which she was going
to New York to consult a lawyer.

"I thought once of referring her to you, Mr. Cameron," Bob said; "but
couldn't find it in my heart to quiz her, she was so wholly unsuspicious.
You have not seen her, have you?"

"No," came faintly from the lips which tried to smile; for Wilford knew
who