r.
Phillips' arm, looked so innocent of confusion or embarrassment, that
her manner refuted Netta's suspicions.

"Miss Clinton was there," continued Netta, "and looked beautiful. She
had a crowd of gentlemen about her; but didn't you notice (and she
turned to Mrs. Petrancourt) that one met with such marked favour that I
wonder the rest were not discouraged. I mean that tall, handsome young
man who waited upon her into the hall and went out soon after. She
devoted herself to him while he stayed."

"The same one, was it not," asked Ellen, "who towards the close of the
concert came in and stood leaning against the wall for some minutes?"

"Yes," answered Netta; "but he only waited for Alboni to finish singing,
and then approaching Miss Clinton, whispered in her ear. After that she
got up, left her seat, and they both went off, rather to the
mortification of the other gentlemen."

"Oh, it is not strange, under the circumstances," said Mr. Petrancourt,
"that Miss Clinton should prefer a walk with Mr. Sullivan to the best
music in the world."

"Why?" asked Netta. "Is he very agreeable? Is he supposed to be the
favoured one?"

"I should think there was no doubt of it," answered Mr. Petrancourt. "I
believe it is generally thought to be an engagement. He was in Paris
with them during the spring, and they all came home in the same steamer.
Everybody knows it is the wish of Mr. Clinton's heart, and Miss Isabel
makes no secret of her preference."

"Oh, certainly," interposed Mrs. Pentracourt; "it is an understood
thing."

What became of Gertrude all this time? Could she, who for six years had
nursed the fond idea that to Willie she was, and should still continue
to be, all in all--could she stand patiently by and hear him thus
disposed of and given to another? She did do it; not consciously,
however, for her head swam round, and she would have fallen but for the
firm support of Mr. Phillips, who held her arm so tightly that, though
he felt, the rest could not see how she trembled. Fortunately, too, none
but he saw her blanched face; and, as she stood in the shadow, he alone
was watching the strained and eager eyes, the parted and rigid lips, the
death-like pallor of her countenance.

Standing there with her heart beating, and almost believing herself in a
horrid dream, she listened, heard, and comprehended every word. She
could not, however, have spoken or moved for her life, and in an instant
more accident might have b