“These were very uncomfortable days for Ernest Haverleigh, who, never having heard Eugenie mention her sister, did not know she had one, and could not guess of the bitter grief which consumed her day and night, and made her sometimes like a raging animal in her hatred of all mankind. “It was at that time that Mr. Haverleigh, finding no comfort with Eugenie, had decided to visit America, and leave the lady to herself until she was in a better frame of mind. He had found her better on his return, and furiously jealous of Anna, whom she wished so much to see, and whom, when she saw, she felt herself drawn strangely toward, because of a resemblance to the dear little sister dead, she knew not where. “Mr. Haverleigh had dreaded this meeting between the eagle and the dove, as he mentally styled the two women who were bound to him, one by the tie of marriage, the other by the so-called tie of honor. Would the eagle tear the dove, he wondered, and he watched them curiously as they met, marveling much at Eugenie’s manner, and the pallor which showed itself even through her paint. Anna had either made a favorable impression, or else Eugenie thought her too insipid to be considered as a rival for a moment. In either case he was pleased to know that there was not to be war between the two ladies, and with this load off his mind he became the most urbane and agreeable of hosts. “It was a very merry dinner party, for the guests were all young and in the best of spirits, and the light jest and gay repartee passed rapidly around the board. Only Anna was quiet. She did not understand French well enough to catch readily what they said, especially when they talked so rapidly, and so many at a time. But she was a good listener, and tried to seem interested and smile in the right place, and she looked so girlish and pretty, and did her duties as hostess so gracefully, that her husband felt proud of her, while every man at the table pronounced her perfect, and every woman charming. “Those October days at Chateau d’Or were very pleasant, for Mr. Haverleigh was a good host, and his guests knew well how to entertain themselves, so that from early morning into the small hours of night there was no cessation of pleasure and revelry. But Anna did not join in the dissipation. She was not at all strong, and in the freedom of intercourse between these volatile, unprincipled French people she saw much to censure and shock her, and shrunk from any familiarity with them. This reticence on her part was attributed to her supposed malady, which made her melancholy, the ladies thought, and after a few ineffectual efforts to draw her into their circle, they gave it up, and suffered her to remain quietly in her room.