Cornelia Graham seemed for a time to have rallied all her strength, and attended parties and kept her place at the opera with a regularity which argued a complete recovery. Antoinette Dupres was admired and nattered; the season was unusually gay. What if Death had so lately held his awful assize in the city? Bereaved families wrapped their sable garments about lonely hearts, and wept over the countless mounds in the cemetery; but the wine-cup and song and dance went their accustomed rounds in fashionable quarters, and drink, dress, and be merry appeared the all-absorbing thought. Into this gayety Eugene Graham eagerly plunged; night after night was spent in one continued whirl; day by day he wandered further astray, and ere long his visits to Beulah ceased entirely. Antoinette thoroughly understood the game she had to play, and easily and rapidly he fell into the snare. To win her seemed his only wish; and not even Cornelia's keenly searching eyes could check his admiration and devotion. January had gone; February drew near its close. Beulah had not seen Eugene for many days and felt more than usually anxious concerning him, for little intercourse now existed between Cornelia and herself. One evening, however, as she stood before a glass and arranged her hair with more than ordinary care, she felt that she would soon have an opportunity of judging whether reports were true. If he indeed rushed along the highway to ruin, one glance would discover to her the fact. Dr. Asbury wished to give Pauline Chilton a party, and his own and Mrs. Asbury's kind persuasions induced the orphan to consent to attend. The evening had arrived. She put on her simple Swiss muslin dress, without a wish for anything more costly, and entered the carriage her friends had sent to convey her to the house. The guests rapidly assembled; soon the rooms were thronged with merry people, whose moving to and fro prevented regular conversation. The brilliant chandeliers flashed down on rich silks and satins, gossamer fabrics, and diamonds which blazed dazzlingly. Pauline was superbly beautiful. Excitement lighted her eyes and flushed her cheeks, until all paused to gaze at her transcendent loveliness. It was generally known that ere many days her marriage would take place, and people looked at her in her marvelous, queenly beauty, and wondered what infatuation induced her to give her hand to a minister, when she, of all others present, seemed made to move in the gay scene where she reigned supreme. From a quiet seat near the window Beulah watched her airy, graceful form glide through the quadrille, and feared that in future years she would sigh for the gayeties which in her destined lot would be withheld from her. She tried to fancy the dazzling beauty metamorphosed into the staid clergyman's wife, divested of satin and diamonds, and visiting the squalid and suffering portion of her husband's flock. But the contrast was too glaring, and she turned her head to watch for