closely as she herself watched Lyon--and
she even asked herself:

"Does he know Rosa, and is he jealous?"

Meanwhile the mazy dance went merrily on, heying and setting, whirling
and twisting to the inspiring sound of music. And Sybil acted her part,
scarcely conscious that she did it, until the set was ended, and she was
led back to her seat by her partner, who, as he placed her in it, bowed
gracefully, thanked her for the honor she had done him, and inquired if
he could have the pleasure of bringing her a glass of water, lemonade,
or anything else.

But she politely declined all refreshment.

He then expressed a hope of having the honor of dancing with her again
during the evening, and with a final bow he withdrew.

But he did but make way for a succession of suitors, who, in low and
pleading tones, besought the honor of her hand in the waltz that was
about to begin. But to each of these in turn she excused herself, upon
the plea that she never waltzed.

Next she was besieged by candidates for the delight of dancing with her
in the quadrille that was immediately to follow the waltz. And she
mechanically bowed assent to the first applicant, and excused herself to
all others, upon the plea of her previous engagement.

That Sybil consented to dance at all, under the painful circumstances of
her position, was due to the instinctive courtesy of her nature, which
taught her, that on such an occasion as this, the hostess must not
indulge her private feelings, however importunate they might be, but
that she must mingle in the amusements of her guests; for she forgot
that a masquerade ball was different from all other entertainments in
this, that her masquerade dress put her on an equality with all her
guests, and emancipated her from all the duties of a hostess as long as
she should wear her mask.

Meanwhile she was looking for her husband and her rival, who had both
disappeared. And presently her vigilance was rewarded. They reappeared,
locked in each other's arms, and whirling around in the bewildering
waltz. And she watched them, all unconscious that she herself was the
"observed of all observers," the "cynosure of eyes," the star of that
"goodlie company." All who were not waltzing, and many who were
waltzing, were talking of Sybil.

"Who is she? What is she? Where did she come from? Does any one know
her?" were some of the questions that were asked on all sides.

"She outshines every one in the room," whispere