As he stood there, looking into the gloom, with a sense of relief at finding some object more in unison with his dark thoughts, he saw a figure glide away from the foot of the cypress, and disappear in the shrubbery beyond. It was a woman wrapped in some dark garment--in movement and form like his wife--could it be his wife wandering about the grounds at that hour? "Elizabeth!" he called; but there was no answer. He hurried forward among the trees, but there was no object visible, no response to the summons he repeated several times. It might be some guest who had stolen out there for a few minutes' quiet; yet that was not probable. Besides, the movements of the slender form appeared familiar to him. In height and shape Elsie and Elizabeth resembled each other; it was possibly one of them, but which? Elsie it could not be, she had a nervous dread of darkness and could not be persuaded to stir off the piazza after nightfall. It must have been Elizabeth, then; but what was she doing there! He started towards the house with some vague thought in his mind, to which he could have given no expression. His wife was not in any of the rooms through which he passed, and he hurried into the ball-room. The music had just struck up anew; he saw Elsie whirling through a waltz; but Elizabeth was nowhere visible. He drew near enough to Elsie to whisper-- "Where is Bessie?" "I don't know," she answered. "I have been dancing all the while, and have not seen her for some time." He turned away; but, just then, Mrs. Harrington captured him, and it was several moments before he could escape from her tiresome loquacity. The moment he was at liberty Mellen hurried through the parlors and up the stairs, opened the door of Elizabeth's dressing-room, and entered. There she was, standing at the window, looking out. She turned quickly, and in some confusion at his sudden entrance. "Is it you?" she asked. "Yes; I have been looking for you everywhere!" "I came up here for a moment's quiet," she answered. "I am very, very tired; I wish it was all over, Grantley." "Have you been out?" he asked. It seemed to him that she hesitated a little, as she answered-- "Out? No; where--what do you mean?" "I thought I saw you in the grounds a little while ago." "I should not be likely to go out in this dress," she replied, glancing down at the point lace flounces that floated over the snowy satin of her train. "Come, we must go down stairs; our guests will think us careless hosts." Mellen felt and looked dissatisfied, but could not well press the matter farther. "Are you coming down?" she asked. "Yes; of course," he replied, coldly. "Don't wait for me." She walked away without another word. "She avoids me," he thought. "I see it more and more." The ball was over at last. Even Elsie was completely tired out, and glad to nestle away under the azure curtains of her bed when the guests had departed.