ce, and no one, even from the grandeur of the
entertainment, had a right to more than guess that the general heirship
was settled on Lord Hope's daughter.

In fact, this entertainment was ostensibly given to Lord and Lady Hope,
and the old countess had taken up the sparkling weight of all those
Carset jewels, that all the world might know that they had come back
honorably into her own possession. It was a splendid and most delicate
way of acknowledging herself in the wrong.

Before the guests had commenced to arrive in any numbers, Lady Hope came
floating into the state drawing-room, with a noble cactus flower
sweeping backwards from the left side of her head, and resting upon the
massive braids of her hair, which curved upwards like a helmet, from her
neck almost to the forehead. Chains of large rubies encircled her neck
and arms, harmonizing with the cactus blossom, but forming a bold
contrast to the amber silk of her dress, which swept far back upon the
polished floor, and took the light as birds of Paradise fling off
sunshine from their plumage. A beautiful and right queenly personage was
Rachael Closs that night, as she moved across the floor and took her
place by the little countess, who looked up and smiled gently when she
saw that Lord Hope's wife appeared in the old family rubies, which she
had presented to her that morning.

One bright glance at Clara, another of sparkling triumph at Lord Hope,
and Rachael gave herself up to the brilliant duties that lay before her.
This night was to be the crowning success of her life.

The guests swept through the great entrance, and into the drawing-room
now, in crowds and groups. Music sounded from half a dozen gilded
orchestras, and the oaken floors of that old castle began to tremble
under the feet of many dancers, as they kept time to the music, and sent
out a soft undertone of conversation.

Lord Hope opened the ball with the elite of the elite. Lord Hilton led
Lady Clara into the same set, at which the old countess nodded her head
and smiled. She observed that the young nobleman bent his head, and
looking in the bright face of her grandchild, was talking earnestly to
her, at which the dear old lady smiled again, and put up her fan, that
no one might observe how pleased she was.

This was what Hilton was saying:

"And she would not come down, fearing to meet me? This is hard, Lady
Clara!"

"No," answered the girl, reaching out her hand for a ladies' chain, and