Cornelia
was not going to give up her art at all, but after her marriage was
coming back to study and paint with Ludlow.

Charmian bore her honors graciously, both as the friend of the new
fiancee, and as the most successful mask of the evening. In her pride
and joy, she set the example of looking out for girls who were not
having a good time, and helping them to have one with the men of her
own too constant following, and with those who stood about, wanting the
wish or the courage to attach themselves to any one. In the excitement
she did not miss Cornelia, or notice whether Ludlow had come yet. When
she did think of her it was to fancy that she was off somewhere with
him, and did not want to be looked up. Before the high moment when one
of the instructors appeared, and chose a partner fur the Virginia Reel,
Charmian had fused all the faltering and reluctant temperaments in the
warmth of her amiability. Nobody ever denied her good nature, in fact,
whatever else they denied her, and there were none who begrudged her
its reward at last. She was last on the floor, when the orchestra,
having played as long as it had bargained to, refused to play any
longer, and the dance came to an end. She then realized that it was
after twelve, and she remembered Cornelia. She rushed down into the
dressing-room, and found her sitting there alone, bonneted and wrapped
for the street. There was something suddenly strange and fateful about
it all to Charmian.

"Cornelia!" she entreated. "What is the matter? What has become of Mr.
Ludlow? Hasn't he been here to-night?"

Cornelia shook her head, and made a hoarse murmur in her throat, as if
she wished to speak and could not. There seemed to be some sort of
weight upon her, so that she could not rise, but Charmian swiftly made
her own changes of toilet necessary for the street, and got Cornelia
out of doors and into her coupe which was waiting for them, before the
others descended from the dancing-room, where the men staid to help the
janitor put out the lights. As the carriage whirled them away, they
could hear the gay cries and laughter of the first of the revellers who
came out into the night after them.

XXXVI.

The solemn man-servant, who was now also sleepy, but who saved the
respect due the young ladies by putting his hand over a yawn when he
let them in, brought Cornelia a letter which he seemed to have been
keeping on his professional salver. "A letter for you, miss. It