llian, looking so fair and sweet
in her white silk dress and favorite pearls! Beatrice, like a queen,
in a cloud of white lace, with coquettish dashes of crimson. The Earle
diamonds shone in her dark hair, clasped the fair white throat, and
encircled the beautiful arms. A magnificent pomegranate blossom lay in
the bodice of her dress, and she carried a bouquet of white lilies
mixed with scarlet verbena.

The excitement as to the ball had been great. It seemed like a step in
the right direction at last. The great question was, with whom would
Lord Airlie open the ball? Every girl was on the qui vive.

The question was soon decided. When Beatrice Earle entered the room,
Lord Airlie went straight to meet her and solicited her hand for the
first dance. She did not know how much was meant by that one action.

He wondered, as he looked upon her, the queen of the most brilliant
ball of the season, whether she would ever love him if it was within
the bounds of possibility that she should ever care for him. That
evening, for the first time, he touched the proud heart of Beatrice
Earle. On all sides she had heard nothing but praises of Lord Airlie
his wealth, his talents, his handsome person and chivalrous manner.
The ladies were eloquent in praise of their young host. She looked at
him, and for the first time remarked the noble, dignified carriage, the
tall, erect figure, the clear-cut patrician face--not handsome
according to the rules of beauty, but from the truth and honor written
there in nature's plainest hand.

Then she saw--and it struck her with surprise how Lord Airlie, so
courted and run after, sought her out. She saw smiles on friendly
faces, and heard her name mingled with his.

"My dear Miss Earle," said Lady Everton, "you have accomplished
wonders--conquered the unconquerable. I believe every eligible young
lady in London has smiled upon Lord Airlie, and all in vain. What
charm have you used to bring him to your feet?"

"I did not know that he was at my feet," replied Beatrice. "You like
figurative language, Lady Everton."

"You will find I am right," returned lady Everton. "Remember I was the
first to congratulate you."

Beatrice wondered, in a sweet, vague way, if there could be anything in
it. She looked again at Lord Airlie. Surely any one might be proud of
the love of such a man. He caught her glance, and her face flushed.
In a moment he was by her side.

"Miss Earle," he said, e