aircase again, robed in something thin, white,
and glittering as the hoar-frost itself, the darkness of her hair was
twined neither with the roseate Marlboro' bells, nor yet with the long
acacia-sprays whose golden balls should have expanded and bloomed in the
light and heat till they seemed like fragrant drops of lustre, Miss
Changarnier could best tell for herself.

But the wedding passed as weddings do,--to-day cake, to-morrow
crumbs,--and at length the carriages were ordered for The Rim. The
evening had not been without its triumphs to Eloise, however many masks
she wore over her inner depression. St. George had forgotten her till a
late hour, and, conspicuous as Marlboro's _devoir_ had been, her own
acceptance of it had been scarcely less so. Perhaps there was nothing in
the world, of its kind, more beautiful than Eloise Changarnier's
dancing. Fragrances, if they were visible, would float with just such a
dreamy grace from flower to flower. Simple and sensuous, yet airy and
fine, was the spirit of every motion; and with every wave, with every
look, she appealed to the beholder's heart. Swimming down the room on
the slow circles of the indolent languor of the waltz, perfumes fanning
all about her, the wind lifting the curtains and letting in gleams of
amethyst heavens and low-hanging stars, the music pulsing in passionate
throbs,--once only she raised her eyes, and the great beryl jewels
rested on Earl St. George Erne's, as he leaned against the wall with his
supreme indifference of lordly manner; and if he revenged himself with
the swift gleam of that involuntary smile that must never kindle for
her, though it shot its light over brow and lip forever, he never knew
it. An instant afterwards he was beside her, yet he dared not with the
next strain suffer it to be his arm that upheld her, and Eloise sat
where he placed her and danced no more. And then Mrs. Murray came, and
they all took their seats in the carriages: Laura jubilant, but stately;
Lottie eminently dishevelled, and still clutching the crumpled list of
her partners; Master Will with his fists in his eyes, and heavy beneath
a drowsiness from which he soon had enough to waken him; while in Mr.
St. George's deportment to every one there was a shade of the old
sardonic displeasure with which he was occasionally wont to favor his
friends. But Lottie, after a few furlongs, was asleep in somebody's
arms; the rest were, perhaps, living the evening over again in re