ion for Captain
Winstanley, and general dislike of the whole thing, Violet Tempest
began the evening by enjoying herself. She was young and energetic, and
had an immense reserve of animal spirits after her two years of sadness
and mourning. She danced with the partners her friends brought
her--some of the most eligible men in the room--and was full of life
and gaiety; yet the festival seemed to her in somewise horrible all the
time.

"If papa could know that we are dancing and smiling at each other, as
if all life was made up of gladness, when he is lying in his cold
grave!" thought Vixen, after joining hands with her mother in the
ladies' chain.

The widow looked as if she had never known a care. She was conscious
that Worth's _chef-d'oeuvre_ was not thrown away. She saw herself in
the great mirrors which once reflected George and his lovely
Fitzherbert in their days of gladness--which reflected the same George
later, old, and sick, and weary.

"That French _grande dame_ was right," thought Mrs. Tempest, "who said,
'_Le noir est si flattant pour les blondes_.'"

Black was flattering for Vixen's auburn hair also. Though her
indifferent eye rarely glanced at the mirrored walls, she had never
looked lovelier. A tall graceful figure, in billowy black tulle,
wreathed with white chrysanthemums; a queen-like head, with a red-gold
coronal; a throat like an ivory pillar, spanned with a broad black
ribbon, fastened with a diamond clasp; diamond stars in her ears, and a
narrow belt of diamonds round each white arm.

"How many waltzes have you kept for me?" Captain Winstanley asked
presently, coming up to Vixen.

"I have not kept waltzes for anyone," she answered indifferently.

"But surely you were under a promise to keep some for me? I asked you a
week ago."

"Did you? I am sure I never promised anything of the kind."

"Here is only one little shabby waltz left," said the Captain, looking
at her programme. "May I put my name down for that?"

"If you like," answered Vixen indifferently; and then, with the
faintest suspicion of malice, she added, "as mamma does not dance round
dances."

She was standing up for the Lancers presently, and her partner had just
led her to her place, when she saw that she had her mother and Captain
Winstanley again for her _vis-a-vis_. She grew suddenly pale, and
turned away.

"Will you let me sit this out?" she said. "I feel awfully ill."

Her partner was full of concern, and carried