is
finger.

An evening or two after, Elliot attended Florence to a party at Mrs.
B.'s. Every thing was gay and brilliant, and there was no lack either of
wit or wine. Elliot was standing in a little alcove, spread with
refreshments, with a glass of wine in his hand. "I forbid it; the cup is
poisoned!" said a voice in his ear. He turned quickly, and Florence was
at his side. Every one was busy, with laughing and talking, around, and
nobody saw the sudden start and flush that these words produced, as
Elliot looked earnestly in the lady's face. She smiled, and pointed
playfully to the ring; but after all, there was in her face an
expression of agitation and interest which she could not repress, and
Elliot felt, however playful the manner, that she was _in earnest_; and
as she glided away in the crowd, he stood with his arms folded, and his
eyes fixed on the spot where she disappeared.

"Is it possible that I am suspected--that there are things said of me as
if I were in danger?" were the first thoughts that flashed through his
mind. How strange that a man may appear doomed, given up, and lost, to
the eye of every looker on, before he begins to suspect himself! This
was the first time that any defined apprehension of loss of character
had occurred to Elliot, and he was startled as if from a dream.

"What the deuse is the matter with you, Elliot? You look as solemn as a
hearse!" said a young man near by.

"Has Miss Elmore cut you?" said another.

"Come, man, have a glass," said a third.

"Let him alone--he's bewitched," said a fourth. "I saw the spell laid on
him. None of us can say but our turn may come next."

An hour later, that evening, Florence was talking with her usual spirit
to a group who were collected around her, when, suddenly looking up, she
saw Elliot, standing in an abstracted manner, at one of the windows that
looked out into the balcony.

"He is offended, I dare say," she thought; "but what do I care? For once
in my life I have tried to do a right thing--a good thing. I have risked
giving offence for less than this, many a time." Still, Florence could
not but feel tremulous, when, a few moments after, Elliot approached her
and offered his arm for a promenade. They walked up and down the room,
she talking volubly, and he answering yes and no, till at length, as if
by accident, he drew her into the balcony which overhung the garden. The
moon was shining brightly, and every thing without, in its placid