l figure at the dance,
shining tranquilly in a new triumph: that day her engagement had
been announced to Mr. George Wattling, a young man of no special
attainments, but desirable in his possessions and suitable to his
happiness. The pair radiated the pardonable, gay importance of
newly engaged people, and Cora, who had never before bestowed any
notice upon Mr. Wattling, now examined him with thoughtful
attention.

Finding him at her elbow in a group about a punch bowl, between
dances, she offered warm felicitations. "But I don't suppose you
care whether _I_ care for you to be happy or not," she added, with
a little plaintive laugh;--"you've always hated me so!"

Mr. Wattling was startled: never before had he imagined that Cora
Madison had given him a thought; but there was not only thought,
there was feeling, in this speech. She seemed to be concealing
with bravery an even deeper feeling than the one inadvertently
expressed. "Why, what on earth makes you think that?" he
exclaimed.

"Think it? I _know_ it!" She gave him a strange look, luminous yet
mysterious, a curtain withdrawn only to show a shining mist with
something undefined but dazzling beyond. "I've always known it!"
And she turned away from him abruptly.

He sprang after her. "But you're wrong. I've never----"

"Oh, yes, you have." They began to discuss it, and for better
consideration of the theme it became necessary for Cora to "cut"
the next dance, promised to another, and to give it to Mr.
Wattling. They danced several times together, and Mr. Wattling's
expression was serious. The weavers of the tapestry smiled and
whispered things the men would not have understood--nor believed.

Ray Vilas, seated alone in a recessed and softly lighted gallery,
did not once lose sight of the flitting sorceress. With his elbows
on the railing, he leaned out, his head swaying slowly and
mechanically as she swept up and down the tumultuously moving
room, his passionate eyes gaunt and brilliant with his hunger. And
something very like a general thrill passed over the assembly
when, a little later, it was seen that he was dancing with her.
Laura, catching a glimpse of this couple, started and looked
profoundly disturbed.

The extravagance of Vilas's passion and the depths he sounded, in
his absurd despair when discarded, had been matters of almost
public gossip; he was accounted a somewhat scandalous and
unbalanced but picturesque figure; and for the lady whose ligh