little apathy and
observed that there was no widow's cap on Mrs. Arles's hair, that it had
refined away through various shades of lace till at last even the
delicate cobweb on the back of the head was gone and the glossy locks
lay bare, that the sables had become simply black gauze over a steely
shine of silk, that the little Andalusian foot lay relieved on a white
embroidered cushion, that its owner was glancing up and smiling at a
gentleman who bent above her, and that that gentleman was Mr. St.
George. When this change had taken place, and whether it had been abrupt
or gradual, her careless eye could not tell; and, forgetting her own
part momentarily in order to take in the whole of the drama in which
they were all acting, Eloise spilled her tea and made some work for
Hazel. As the girl rectified her mishap, it flashed on Eloise that she
had done nothing more about her suit; she noticed, too, how pale Hazel
was, and how subdued and still in all her movements; she remembered that
probably Vane had found it impossible to see her and to elude his
ever-present master; and she thereupon availed herself of his first
disengaged moment to stand at Mr. St. George's side, and ask him if he
had ever thought again of a request she had once made him.

"I was thinking of it at this moment," he replied, looking at her with
something like sunshine suffusing the brown depth of his eyes; "but the
truth is, I am not on such terms with Marlboro' that I may demand a
favor."

"Then _I_ shall."

"On your peril!" he cried, with hasty rigor.

But Eloise escaped, trailing one end of her scarf behind, looking back
at him, laughing, and shaking her threatening fan as he stepped after
her. And then Mr. St. George resumed his haughty silence.

Eloise went down the hall after Hazel. She found her in the empty
dining-room, having just set down the salver; the last light, that,
stealing in, illumined all the paintings of clusters of fruit and
bunches of flowers upon the white panelling, had yet a little ray to
spare for the girl where she crouched with her sobs, her apron flung
above her head; and when Eloise laid her hand gently on her shoulder,
she sprang as if one had struck her.

"Oh, Miss 'Loise! Miss 'Loise! I'm in such trouble!" she gasped.

It did not take long for the little story to find the air. Vane and
Hazel, secure of Eloise's efforts, had married. It was one of the
immutable Blue Bluffs laws that they had broken: there were no