adame. You will give up the world for it."

She paused and Edith, casting a triumphant glance at Mrs. Habersham,
admitted that she had been cherishing just such an ambition, looking only
the more pleased at the unrestrained horror and surprise manifested by
her friends.

"Miss Oldham, I see Miss Oldham, now," continued Ydo. "She weeps. She is
not happy. Idle tears."

Hayden did not hear the rest, he looked about for Marcia, but she had
vanished, slipped from the room. Strange, he had not seen her go, but
then she had that peculiarly noiseless way of moving. While he pondered
over it she slipped in again without sound, the faintest of rustles,
nothing to attract the attention of the others. She was still as white as
a snowdrop, but he thought her expression far calmer and less agitated.

But before any one else had time to notice her reappearance, attention
was concentrated on Wilfred Ames. He had scarcely spoken during dinner,
and since they had returned to the drawing-room, he had kept in the
background, giving every one rather plainly to understand that he did not
care for conversation. Now, he came forward, his face, which had been set
and grim and moody all evening, was white and his eyes were burning.
Never for one moment, did those eyes waver from the Mariposa. He seemed
Entirely oblivious to the rest of the group, and it was obvious that for
him they simply did not exist.

"What do you see here for me?" he tapped the crystal with his forefinger.
His voice was low and yet so vibrating with strong and uncontrolled
emotion, that it reached the ears of all.

There was storm in the air, the whole atmosphere of the room seemed
suddenly charged as if with electricity, and there was no one present who
did not feel through all the color and gaiety, the pulse and stir of
potent and irresistible forces.

But the Mariposa, after her first involuntary start of surprise and
apprehension, had recovered her poise and now strove to control the
situation. "One moment, give me but a second to gaze deeply into the
crystal and I will tell you, that is if the pictures will form
themselves."

"Oh, I beg you to drop that nonsense," Wilfred's voice rang wearily.
"It's only a pose. You believe in it no more than any one else. Aren't
you tired of that sort of game? Of playing with us all as if we were so
many children? Well, if you're not, I am. I tell you, Ydo, I've had
enough of it. You threw me over yesterday, for no reason und