near thee;
Smile! tho' I may never see thee;
May thy soul with pleasure shine
Lasting as this gloom of mine!"

Miss Carewe complied at once with the request; while her companion,
unable to stop with the slight expression of pleasure demanded by the
songster, threw herself upon a sofa and gave way to the mirth that
consumed her.

Then the candles were relit, the serenaders invited within; Nelson came
bearing cake and wine, and the house was made merry. Presently, the
romp, Virginia Bareaud, making her appearance on the arm of General
Trumble, Mrs. Tanberry led them all in a hearty game of Blind-man's
Buff, followed by as hearty a dancing of Dan Tucker. After that, a
quadrille being proposed, Mrs. Tanberry suggested that Jefferson should
run home and bring Fanchon for the fourth lady. However, Virginia
explained that she had endeavored to persuade both her sister and
Mr. Gray to accompany the General and herself, but that Mr. Gray had
complained of indisposition, having suffered greatly from headache, on
account of inhaling so much smoke at the warehouse fire; and, of
course, Fanchon would not leave him. (Miss Carewe permitted herself the
slightest shrug of the shoulders.)

So they danced the quadrille with Jefferson at the piano and Mr. Marsh
performing in the character of a lady, a proceeding most unacceptable to
the General, whom Mrs. Tanberry forced to be his partner. And thus the
evening passed gayly away, and but too quickly, to join the ghosts of
all the other evenings since time began; and each of the little company
had added a cheerful sprite to the long rows of those varied shades that
the after years bring to revisit us, so many with pathetic reproach, so
many bearing a tragic burden of faces that we cannot make even to weep
again, and so few with simple merriment and lightheartedness. Tappingham
Marsh spoke the truth, indeed, when he exclaimed in parting, "O rare
Mrs. Tanberry!"

But the house had not done with serenades that night. The guests had
long since departed; the windows were still and dark under the wan old
moon, which had risen lamely, looking unfamiliar and not half itself;
the air bore an odor of lateness, and nothing moved; when a delicate
harmony stole out of the shadows beyond the misty garden. Low but
resonant chords sounded on the heavier strings of a guitar, while above
them, upon the lighter wires, rippled a slender, tinkling melody that
wooed the slumberer to a delicio