reaching his better self, awakened an emotion that he
had thought gone forever. It was like a lightning-flash in the darkness.
He knew that she had entered his life. His resolution was taken on the
instant. He would meet her, and if she were what she looked to be--again
Elphinstone and his youth swept into his mind. He already was conscious
of a sense of protection; he felt curiously that he had the right to
protect her. If he had addressed her, might not others do so? The
thought made his blood boil. He almost wished that some one would
attempt it, that he might assert his right to show her what he was, and
thus retrieve himself in her eyes. Besides, he must know where she
lived. So he followed her at a respectful distance till she ran up the
steps of one of the better class of houses and disappeared within. He
was too far off to be able to tell which house it was that she entered,
but it was in the same block with Norman Wentworth's house.

Keith walked the avenue that night for a long time, pondering how he
should find and explain his conduct to the young music-teacher, for a
music-teacher he had decided she must be. The next evening, too, he
strolled for an hour on the avenue, scanning from a distance every fair
passer-by, but he saw nothing of her.

Mrs. Creamer's balls were, as Norman had once said, _the_ balls of the
season. "Only the rich and the noble were expected."

Mrs. Creamer's house was one of the great, new, brown-stone mansions
which had been built within the past ten years upon "the avenue." It had
cost a fortune. Within, it was so sumptuous that a special work has been
"gotten up," printed, and published by subscription, of its "art
treasures," furniture, and upholstery.

Into this palatial residence--for flattery could not have called it a
home--Keith was admitted, along with some hundreds of other guests.

To-night it was filled with, not flowers exactly, but with floral
decorations; for the roses and orchids were lost in the
designs--garlands, circles, and banks formed of an infinite number
of flowers.

Mrs. Creamer, a large, handsome woman with good shoulders, stood just
inside the great drawing-room. She was gorgeously attired and shone with
diamonds until the eyes ached with her splendor. Behind her stood Mr.
Creamer, looking generally mightily bored. Now and then he smiled and
shook hands with the guests, at times drawing a friend out of the line
back into the rear for a chat, then relap