“Alone in crowds to wander on And feel that all the charm is gone, While voices dear, and eyes beloved, Shed round us once, where’er we roved-- This, this, the doom must be Of all who’ve loved, and loved to see The few bright things they thought would stay For ever near them, die away. Though fairer forms around us throng, Their smiles to others all belong, And want that charm that dwells alone Round those the fond heart calls its own. Where, where the sunny brow? The long-known voice--where are they now? Thus ask I still, nor ask in vain-- The silence answers all too plain! Oh! what is fancy’s magic worth, If all her art cannot call forth One bliss like those we felt of old From lips now mute and eyes now cold? No, no--her spell is vain-- As soon could she bring back again Those eyes themselves from out the grave, As ask again one bliss they gave.” Margaret Nugent clutched at her heart, gasping: “I will not lose him--I will never give up my hero-king!” Again the voice of the singer rose: “Alone in crowds to wander on, And feel that all the charm is gone.” “I shall go mad!” murmured Margaret. “Can I get out into the moonlight unobserved? The cool air will soothe my throbbing brain.” She looked back into the ballroom, and saw Sir Harold Annesley talking to Lady Elaine Seabright. Lady Elaine’s flower-like face was turned up to him laughingly, and Margaret Nugent shivered. She turned, and gliding from the conservatory, almost reeled into the vine-wreathed piazza beyond, clutching at the wall for support. Even here she could not be alone, for a recumbent figure started up from a low seat, saying, in anxious tones: “Dear Miss Margaret, are you faint? I have just come out myself to escape the heat. Can I get you a glass of water?” “No, thank you, viscount,” replied Margaret. “I am already better--much better. The heat is stifling.” “Would you prefer to be alone, Miss Margaret?” went on Viscount Rivington, “or will you stroll with me in the moonlight for a few minutes? It is lovely out here, and we shall not be missed now.” He spoke with a tinge of bitterness in his tones. Margaret looked at him sharply. “I understand----” she said, gently, yet with a thrill of satisfaction in her heart, “I understand. Lady Elaine is as capricious as usual; Lady Elaine seeks new worlds to conquer!” He laughed bitterly. “Sir Harold is the social lion to-night. Every one bows to him,” he said, “but I will not have him come between me and the woman I worship, Miss Nugent!” He turned suddenly upon her. “You love your cousin--you love Sir Harold. Nay, how could I help but read your secret when my own heart is torn with jealous fears? I could curse the fate that brought him here to-night. Lady Elaine had promised to consider my suit; her father, the earl, was pleased to welcome me as a favored lover; but now I am extinguished!”