and could he have left him in
his sickness? The dictates of common humanity, the social duties of life
would have prevented him."

"What a pity Florence does not hear you, such calm reasoning would
destroy all the glow of romance which she has thrown around these
incidents. But indeed you do not give Myrvin his due, every man does not
perform his duty."

"Every man _ought_, and when he does not, he is wrong; as when he does,
he is right."

"But this is contrary to your own principle, Emmeline. What has become
of the enthusiasm which once bade you condemn all such cold judgments,
such scanty praise? Once upon a time, you would have looked on such
conduct very differently."

Emmeline turned away, but St. Eval saw her eyes were swimming in tears.
He continued, sportively--

"Be assured, I will tell Myrvin as soon as I see him."

"I beg you will not, my lord," Emmeline said, struggling to retain her
calmness; but failing, she added, entreatingly, "dearest Eugene, if you
have any regard for me, do not repeat my words; let them pass with the
subject, it has engrossed us quite enough."

St. Eval shook his head in playful reproof. They sat apart from the
dancers, and feeling neither her words nor any subsequent agitation
could be remarked, she placed her trembling hand in St. Eval's, and
said, almost inarticulately--

"Eugene, tell me, does Arthur--Mr. Myrvin accompany Lord Louis to-night?
Do not deceive me."

"He does," he replied instantly, "and what detains them I cannot
understand. But fear nothing, dearest Emmeline, I know all; you may
trust me, fear nothing. And now your promise--the quadrille is formed,
they only wait for us."

"I know all, fear nothing," Emmeline internally repeated, her whole
frame trembling with agitation, as kindly and encouragingly St. Eval
led her to the place assigned them. She forced herself to think only on
the dance, on the amusing anecdotes he was telling her, on the light
laugh, the ready jest that were sparkling around her. Her natural grace
in dancing forsook her not, nor did she refuse her sister's request,
when the quadrille was finished, that she would take out her harp. She
seated herself at the instrument and commenced.

Music had not lost its charm, rapt in the exquisite air she was playing,
it seemed to soothe her agitated feelings, and bid her forget her usual
timidity. All were silent, for the air was so sweet, so plaintive, not a
voice could have disturbed it; it c