Just then Tom came in, and the conversation ceased, though I was tempted to tell him I knew of the party. He was going, of course, and I felt a little hurt that he did not speak to me about it; He might have done as much as that, I thought, but he did not until the very day, when he said to me, late in the afternoon: “I have an engagement for to-night, Mousey. Miss Elliston gives a large party, and as she has deferred it until I could be present, I think I ought to go.” “Yes, certainly, by all means,” I said; and then, when he was gone, I was silly enough to cry, and to think hard things of Miss Elliston, who was so rich and happy in everything. When Mrs. Trevyllan was dressed she came to let me look at her, and I thought I had never seen anything as lovely as she was, in pink silk, and lace, and pearls, with her sunny blue eyes and golden hair. “You will be the belle of the party,” I said; but she shook her head, laughingly, and replied: “I’ll tell you to-morrow.” Alas! when the morrow came, the little lady’s plumes were drooping, and her spirits a good deal ruffled. Tom was late in his visit that morning, and so she had ample time to tell me all about it. “Such a jam!” she said; “and it had taken half an hour for their carriage to get up to the house, then another half hour to push her way to the dressing-room and down again to the drawing-room, where Miss Elliston just touched her hand and said good-evening; and then she was shoved on to a corner, where she and George stood, entirely surrounded by strangers, and feeling more alone than if they had been in the desert. When the dancing commenced, it was better, for the parlors thinned out, and she was able to walk and look about a little; but nobody spoke to her or noticed her in any way, and she was not introduced to a single individual, until the lion of the evening, the man who received so much attention from every body, accidentally stumbled upon her, and was so kind and good. And who do you suppose it was? I was never more astonished in my life. And they say he is to marry Miss Elliston. It is quite a settled thing, I heard. Your cousin, Mr. Gordon; and that was his photograph, though not very natural; at least, I did not recognize him from it. Perhaps, because I never thought of such a thing.” “The picture was taken three or four years ago,” I said; “and Tom says it was never a good one.” “Then you did know all the time that he was Miss Elliston’s Mr. Gordon, and you never told me?” Mrs. Trevyllan cried, in a slightly aggrieved tone of voice. “I knew he was her brother’s friend,” I said, “but not till after he came home. Is she so very handsome?”