pen carriage, had a soothing effect upon Rena's
excited nerves. The calm restfulness of the night, the cool blue
depths of the unclouded sky, the solemn croaking of the frogs in a
distant swamp, were much more in harmony with her nature than the
crowded brilliancy of the ball-room. She closed her eyes, and, leaning
back in the carriage, thought of her mother, who she wished might have
seen her daughter this night. A momentary pang of homesickness pierced
her tender heart, and she furtively wiped away the tears that came into
her eyes.

"Good-night, fair Queen!" exclaimed Tryon, breaking into her reverie as
the carriage rolled up to the doorstep, "and let your loyal subject
kiss your hand in token of his fealty. May your Majesty never abdicate
her throne, and may she ever count me her humble servant and devoted
knight."

"And now, sister," said Warwick, when Tryon had been driven away, "now
that the masquerade is over, let us to sleep, and to-morrow take up the
serious business of life. Your day has been a glorious success!"

He put his arm around her and gave her a kiss and a brotherly hug.

"It is a dream," she murmured sleepily, "only a dream. I am Cinderella
before the clock has struck. Good-night, dear John."

"Good-night, Rowena."

VII

'MID NEW SURROUNDINGS

Warwick's residence was situated in the outskirts of the town. It was
a fine old plantation house, built in colonial times, with a stately
colonnade, wide verandas, and long windows with Venetian blinds. It
was painted white, and stood back several rods from the street, in a
charming setting of palmettoes, magnolias, and flowering shrubs. Rena
had always thought her mother's house large, but now it seemed cramped
and narrow, in comparison with this roomy mansion. The furniture was
old-fashioned and massive. The great brass andirons on the wide hearth
stood like sentinels proclaiming and guarding the dignity of the
family. The spreading antlers on the wall testified to a mighty hunter
in some past generation. The portraits of Warwick's wife's
ancestors--high featured, proud men and women, dressed in the fashions
of a bygone age--looked down from tarnished gilt frames. It was all
very novel to her, and very impressive. When she ate off china, with
silver knives and forks that had come down as heirlooms, escaping
somehow the ravages and exigencies of the war time,--Warwick told her
afterwards how he had buried them out of reach of frie