my breast--a repository
of many a darker confidence than that." With these words the bent form
of the melancholy preacher passed out of their sight.

"A singular man," said Bernard, in a troubled voice, "but entirely
innocent in his conduct. An abstracted book-worm, he moves through the
world like a stranger in it. Will you return now?"

"Thank you," said Virginia, "most willingly--for I confess my nerves are
a little unstrung by the fright I received. And now, my friend, pardon
me for referring to what has passed, but you will still be my friend,
won't you?"

"Oh, certainly," said Bernard, in an abstracted manner. "I wonder," he
muttered "what he could have meant by that hideous groan?"

And sadly and silently the rejected lover and his unhappy companion
returned to the heartless throng, who still lit up the palace with their
hollow smiles.

Alike the joyous dance, the light mirth, and the splendid entertainment
passed unheeded by Virginia, as she sat silently abstracted, and
returned indifferent answers to the questions which were asked her. And
Bernard, the gay and fascinating Bernard, wandered through the crowd,
like a troubled spectre, and ever and anon muttered to himself, "I
wonder what he could have meant by that hideous groan?"

CHAPTER XIX.

"His heart has not half uttered itself yet,
And much remains to do as well as they.
The heart is sometime ere it finds its focus,
And when it does with the whole light of nature
Strained through it to a hair's breadth, it but burns
The things beneath it which it lights to death."
_Festus._

And now the ball is over. Mothers wait impatiently for their fair
daughters, who are having those many last words so delightful to them,
and so provoking to those who await their departure. Carriages again
drive to the door, and receive their laughing, bright-eyed burdens, and
then roll away through the green lawn, while the lamps throw their
broad, dark shadows on the grass. Gay young cavaliers, who have come
from a distance to the ball, exchange their slippers for their heavy
riding-boots and spurs, and mount their pawing and impatient steeds.
Sober-sided old statesmen walk away arm-in-arm, and discuss earnestly
the business of the morrow. The gamesters and dicers depart, some with
cheerful smiles, chuckling over their gains, and others with empty
pockets, complaining how early the party had