tc., etc.

Denas saw quite clearly, and with a certain pride of self-respect she
relegated herself to a position that would interfere with no one's
claims and offend no one's social ideas.

"I am to be your real bridesmaid, Elizabeth," she said. "Miss
Burrells, and your cousin Flora, and Miss Godolphin are for show. I
shall be really your maid. I shall lace your white satin boots, and
fasten your white satin dress, and drape the lace, and clasp the gems,
and make your bride-bouquet. I shall stay upstairs while you are at
church and lay ready your travelling costume and see that Adele packs
your trunks properly; and when you go away I shall fasten your cloak,
and tie your bonnet, and button your gloves, and then go away myself;
for there will be no one here then that likes me and nothing at all
for me to do."

And this programme, made with a little heartache and sense of love's
failure, Denas faithfully carried out. It cost her something to do it,
but she did not permit Elizabeth to see that she counted her faithless
in her heart. For she did not blame her friend; she understood the
force of the reasons not given--Mr. Tresham's latent dislike, her
humble birth, her want of fine clothes and fine polish and rich
connections--and she felt keenly enough that there was nothing about
her, personally or socially, to make Mr. Tresham's guests desire her.

And when the day drew near and they began to arrive, Denas shrank more
and more from their society. She saw that Elizabeth's manner with
them was quite different from her manner to herself, and in spite of
much kindness and generosity she felt humiliated, alone, outside, and
apart. She wondered why it was. These rich girls came in little
companies to Elizabeth's room, and with soft laughter and exclamations
of delight examined the bride's pretty garments and presents. They
were never haughty with her; on the contrary, they were exceedingly
pleasant. They called her "Miss Denas" and carefully avoided anything
like condescension in their intercourse. Yet Denas knew that between
them and herself there was a line impalpable as the equator and just
as potent in its dividing power.

It saddened her beyond reason, and when Roland arrived two days before
the wedding and she saw him wandering in the garden, riding, driving,
playing tennis, chatting and chaffing, singing and dancing with these
four girls of his own circle, she divined a difference, which she
could not explain but w