Then a little excited group formed around him, and even the waltzers began to see that an unusual interest was agitating the wall-flowers. Xenie looked carelessly at first, then more closely as she saw that her aunt stood in the center of the group. "Aunt Egerton has suddenly become the center of attraction," she said, laughingly, to her companion. Then she started and the room seemed to swim around her, the lights, the flowers, the black suits of the men, the gay, butterfly robes of the women seemed to be blending in an inextricable maze. Her heart seemed beating in her ears, so loudly it sounded. She had caught a flitting glimpse of a man's form standing just beyond her aunt. It was he around whom the excited little throng buzzed and eddied. He was tall, straight, graceful as a young palm tree, handsome as Apollo, in his elegant evening dress. His head, crowned with fair, curling locks, was held aloft with half-haughty grace; his Grecian profile, clearly-cut as a cameo head, was turned toward Xenie, and she saw the smile that curved the fair, mustached lips, the flash in the proud, blue eyes. For a moment she lost the step, and hung droopingly on her partner's arm. "You are tired," he said, stopping and looking down into her deathly-white face. "Pardon me, I kept you on the floor too long; but your step was so perfect, the music so entrancing, I forgot myself." He was leading her to a seat as he spoke. She came back to herself with a quick start. "No, do not blame yourself," she answered. "The fact is I am not accustomed to waltzing of late. This is the first time for almost two years, and it is so easy to--to grow dizzy--to lose one's head." "Yes, indeed, it is," he answered. "Shall I get you a glass of water?" "If you please," she murmured, faintly. He went away, and she tried to rally from her sudden shock. By the time he returned she was calm, nonchalantly fanning herself with a languid, indolent grace. No one but herself knew how hard and fast her heart was beating yet. "Thank you," she murmured; then, as she lifted her head, she saw her aunt coming to her, leaning on the arm of a gentleman. Lord Dudley stared and exclaimed: "Heaven! it is Howard Templeton! The sea has given up its dead!" "Do you know him?" asked Xenie. "Yes, we crossed together. That is--until the terrible storm that wrecked us--I was one of the seven that were saved. It was supposed that Templeton was lost." "Xenie," said Mrs. Egerton, vivaciously, and yet with a note of warning in her tones that was distinguishable only to her ears for whom it was intended, "here is an old friend whom we all thought dead. Bid him welcome." Xenie arose, languid, careless, pale as a ghost, yet wearing a gracious smile for the eyes of the little social world that watched her keenly. He took the half-extended hand in his a moment, and bowed low over it, touching it an instant to his mustached lips.