For when evening came on, and the company were assembled, Little Wolf most unexpectedly found herself in the midst, an object of universal interest. A more beautiful object could scarce have been found. At all events, so thought Edward Sherman, as he mingled in the throng, great billows of gladness surging in his soul. His cup of joy was large and full. He was holding it with a firm hand, and he said in his heart, "I shall never be moved." The evening was drawing to a close, but the feasting and toasting was still kept up. The wine went round, and the adventures of our heroine continued to be commemorated in appropriate sentiments. While the guests still lingered, a shade of anxiety might occasionally be traced on many a fair face, as husband or brother, or "that other," exhibited unmistakable signs of an overheated brain. Little Wolfs cheek grew pale, as from time to time she observed the rising flush on Edward's brow. He was exceedingly susceptible to the use of stimulants, and was rapidly thrown into a highly exhilarated condition, making him for a time brilliant, but finally entangling his talk in a labyrinth of meaningless and silly words. When in the latter condition which was not observable until just before the party broke up, he conceived the unlucky idea of urging upon Little Wolf a glass of his favorite drink. "Permit me," said he, stepping, or rather swaggering up to where the lady stood, "to--to--," and suddenly appearing to notice the extreme pallor that overspread her countenance, he stammered, "to bring the blushes to those cheeks." It was enough. The heart at once threw its crimson mantle upon her face, but alas! it was dyed in shame. Poor Little Wolf had no words at command. There, before her, stood the man in whom, a few hours before she had felt so much pride and confidence. Her heart's best feelings had gone out to him, and here was her idol horribly defaced, and he knew it not. He even held invitingly towards her the instrument that had done the mischief, and, while the cup still shook in his trembling hand, he began to wonder at her silence. She once or twice moved her lips, as if to speak, but the words died away. She was not faint or weak, but was for the moment paralyzed. When the quick reaction came, on fire with indignation she acted with characteristic energy and decision, and all heard the crash of the goblet, as with one rapid sweep of her little hand she dashed it to the floor, and fled from the room. Did she forgive him? She said in her heart she would not. CHAPTER XVI. PAINFUL RECOLLECTIONS--THE LAST BOAT OF THE SEASON--RUFFLED PLUMES--RECONCILIATION.