same direction; when she entered either of
the tents, Helen also found it necessary to go into them. But the crowd
was too great for any one to remark this; no one saw it save Denis Wilde,
whose eyes were sharpened by his love.

Once Helen saw that Maurice and Vera were speaking to each other. She
could not get near enough to hear what they said, but she saw him bend
down and speak to her earnestly, and there was a sad, wistful look in
Vera's upturned eyes as she answered him. Helen's heart beat with a wild,
mad jealousy as she watched them; and yet it was but a few words that had
passed between them.

"Vera, young Wilde says you are going to marry him; is it true?"

"He wants me to do so, but I don't think I can."

"Why not? It would be happier for you, child; forget the past and begin
afresh. He is a good boy, and by-and-by he will be well off."

"You, too--you advise me to do this?" she answered with unwonted
bitterness. "Oh, how wise and calculating one ought to be to live happily
in this miserable world!"

He looked pained.

"I cannot do you any good," he said, rather brokenly. "God knows I would
if I could. I can only be a curse to you. Give me at least the credit of
unselfishly wishing you to be less unhappy than you are."

And then the crowd, moving onwards, parted them from each other.

"Do not forget to meet me at the Bath," she called out to him as he went.

"Oh, to be sure! I had forgotten. I will be there just before the dancing
begins."

And then Denis Wilde took his place by her side.

If Mrs. Kynaston surpassed herself in looks and animation that day, Vera,
on the contrary, had never looked less well.

Her eyes were heavy with sleepless nights and many tears; her movements
were slower and more languid than of wont, and her face was pale and
thin.

Meadowshire generally, that had ceased to trouble itself much about her
when she had thrown over the richest baronet in the county, considered
itself, nevertheless, to be somewhat aggrieved by the falling off in her
appearance, and passed its appropriate and ill-natured comments upon the
fact.

"How ill she looks," said one woman to another.

"Positively old. I suppose she thought she could whistle poor Sir John
back again whenever she chose; now he is out of the country she would
give her eyes for him!"

"I daresay; and looks as if she had cried them out; but he must be glad
to have escaped her! Well, it serves her right for behaving so ba