"Oh, that's all very well," laughed Elsie; "but I don't wish to make a female Robinson Crusoe of myself, I do assure you. Bessie, old Mrs. Thompson will wear that wonderful new head-dress, and her son will ask me to sing and be so scarlet and fluttered when I look at him. Yes, yes, there is some fun to be got out of a dinner-party." She mimicked the expected guests in turn, and did it so cleverly that her companions were both obliged to laugh, so everybody prepared for the infliction of a country dinner in the best possible spirits. It was rather stupid to be sure, but Elsie so lighted up the room with her radiance, and Elizabeth was so pleasant a hostess in her stately beauty, that everything passed off tolerably, and even the most common-place of the party brightened up a little under the influence of their hosts. The ladies had risen from the table, giving the gentlemen an opportunity to enjoy their cigars in comfort, and were passing through the hall towards the drawing-room. The moon shone broad and full through the windows of the hall, and somebody remarked on the beauty of the night. Elsie darted away and flung open the hall door. "You will get cold; don't stand there," said Elizabeth. Elsie danced out upon the portico in playful defiance of her sister, and the other ladies went after her, expostulating with true feminine eagerness. As Elsie ran away to the other end of the veranda something fell upon the stones with a ringing noise, followed by a little shriek which she uttered in starting back. "What is the matter?" called out several voices, but before they reached her Elsie stooped, picked something up and ran towards them. "I dropped my brooch," she said; "come in. Elizabeth was right. I am chilled through and through." She drove them playfully before her, and they all entered the parlors laughing gayly--all but Elizabeth. It was a trifling thing to disturb any one, and her nerves must have been in a strange state from constant watchfulness when this little event could move her so greatly. She leaned against the door-frame quite cold and chill. As Elsie passed her the girl slipped something in her hand, unperceived by the others. Elizabeth stood motionless until they had all gone, then she started forward with something like desperation, and moved towards the hanging lamp. She opened her hand and looked down at a slip of paper carefully folded about a broken bit of iron, as if to give it weight enough to be thrown with sure aim. She shut her hand quickly as if the sight of the harmless paper filled her with loathing, conquered the convulsion which shook her from head to foot, unfolded the note and read the brief lines it contained. Then she tore the paper into fragments and thrust them down into the hall fire, watching till even the ashes were gone, fearful that a trace should be left.