So it was that with the record of a _demimondaine_--and not one kind action to her credit--Lady Harrowfield still held her place among the spotless, and ruled as a queen. There was not above two years' difference between her age and Lady Bracondale's; indeed, the latter had been one of her bridesmaids; but no one to look at them at a distance could have credited it for a minute. Lady Harrowfield had golden hair and pink cheeks, and her _embonpoint_ retained in the most fashionable outline. And if towards two in the morning, or when she lost at bridge, her face did remind on-lookers of a hideous colored mask of death and old age--one can't have everything in life; and Lady Harrowfield had already obtained more than the lion's share. This night in June she stood at the top of her splendid staircase, blazing with jewels, receiving her guests, among whom more than one august personage, English and foreign, was expected to arrive; and an unusually sour frown disfigured the thick paint of her face. It all seemed like fairy-land to Theodora as, accompanied by Josiah, and preceded by Mrs. Devlyn, she early mounted the marble steps with the rest of the throng. She noticed the insolent stare of her hostess as she shook hands and then passed on in the crowd. She felt a little shy and nervous and excited withal. Every one around seemed to have so many friends, and to be so gay and joyous, and only she and Josiah stood alone. For Mrs. Devlyn felt she had done enough for one night in bringing them there. It was an immense crowd. At a smaller ball Theodora's exquisite beauty must have commanded instant attention, but this was a special occasion, and the world was too occupied with a desire to gape at the foreign king to trouble about any new-comers. Certainly for the first hour or so. Josiah was feeling humiliated. Not a creature spoke to them, and they were hustled along like sheep into the ballroom. A certain number of men stared--stared with deep interest, and made plans for introductions as soon as the crowd should subside a little. Theodora was perfectly dressed, and her jewels caused envy in numbers of breasts. She was too little occupied with herself to feel any of Josiah's humiliation. This society was hers by right of birth, and did not disconcert her; only no one could help being lonely when quite neglected, while others danced. Presently, a thin, ill-tempered-looking old man made his way with difficulty up to their corner; he had been speaking to Mrs. Devlyn across the room. "I must introduce myself," he said, graciously, to Theodora. "I am your uncle, Patrick Fitzgerald, and I am so delighted to meet you and make your acquaintance." Theodora bowed without _empressement_. She had no feeling for these relations who had been so indifferent to her while she was poor and who had treated darling papa so badly.