y the
_second_ place. A strange kind of jealousy, Gabriella; but I am just so
weak."

She smiled, nay even laughed,--called herself very weak, very foolish,
but said she could not help it. She believed she was the most selfish of
human beings, and feared that this was the right hand to be cut off, the
right eye to be plucked out. I was pained to hear her talk in this way;
for I thought if any one ever gained the heart of Ernest, it would be
dearly purchased by the sacrifice of Edith's friendship. But it was only
a jesting way of expressing her exceeding love, after all. She was not
selfish; she was all that was disinterested and kind.

I followed her down stairs into a blaze of light, that at first dazzled
and bewildered me. The chandeliers with their myriad pendants of
glittering crystal emitted thousands of brilliant coruscations, like
wintry boughs loaded with icicles and sparkling in a noonday sun. While
through the open windows, the departing twilight mingled its soft
duskiness with the splendors of the mimic day.

Ernest Linwood and Richard Clyde were standing near the entrance of the
door to greet us. The former immediately advanced and gave me his arm,
and Richard walked by the side of Edith. I heard him sigh as they fell
behind us, and my heart echoed the sound. Yet how could he sigh with
Edith at his side? As I walked through the illuminated drawing-room,
escorted by one on whom the eyes of the fashionable world were eagerly
bent, I could not help being conscious of the glances that darted on me
from every direction. Ernest Linwood was the loadstar of the scene, and
whoever he distinguished by his attention must be conspicuous by
association. I felt this, but no embarrassment agitated my step or dyed
my cheek with blushes. The deep waters were stirred, stirred to their
inmost depths, but the surface was calm and unruffled. Mrs. Linwood was
at the head of the room, the centre of an intellectual circle. She was
dressed, as usual, in silver gray; but the texture of her dress was the
richest satin, shaded by blonde. The effect was that of a cloud with a
silver lining, and surely it was a fitting attire for one who knew how
to give brightness to the darkest shadows of life.

As we approached her, her countenance lighted up with pride and
pleasure. I saw she was gratified by my appearance; that she was not
ashamed of her protegee. Yet as we came nearer, I observed an expression
of the most tender anxiety, approa