It was a fine frosty night in February. There was no moon, but the myriad of stars that studded the dark sky glinted like gems, and the atmosphere was bracing and exhilarating. Mr. Heath's residence presented a brilliant scene. The lamps on the gate-posts, those hanging in the porch, and the many illuminated windows shed rays that tinted to brilliance the snow covering the lawn and flecking the dark evergreens; while here and there a pendant icicle or the rime-covered bough of a tree coruscated like a crystal prism. Mark stood for some time in contemplation. He heard the sound of rippling music, the muffled patter of hoofs and creaking of wheels over the crisp snow as carriage after carriage deposited its burden at the porch. At length, as if drawn by some invisible magnet, he went stealthily up the avenue, slinking behind the evergreens, and endeavored to gain a position whence to look unobserved through the drawing-room windows. He felt like a spy, and started at every sound with fear of being discovered, but the temptation to see Edna was too powerful, and curiosity overcame his scruples. Climbing on the ledge of a conservatory, he could, by placing his feet on the chamfered stone-work of the building, reach the level of a large bay-window at one end of the drawing-room. An inside sash was partly open, so that he could both see and hear through the blinds and remain unperceived. He now witnessed a sight that soon banished his melancholy, for joy in its fellows has a contagious influence over youth difficult to resist, and he regretted the foolish resolve he had made to abstain from joining the party. They were nearly all young people; among them, however, many strangers to Belton. Mrs. Applegate, who matronized them, rustled about in a voluminous dress of moire-antique, and young Mrs. Heath sat in an easy-chair in one corner, resplendent with diamonds and languidly rattling a Spanish fan, while her lord stood leaning in a doorway looking sulky, bored, and uncomfortable as he fumbled away at a pair of tight gloves. The Rev. Spencer Abbott, in the neatest of clerical attire, was sauntering leisurely from group to group, with his hands behind his back and an air of mild benignity on his pallid countenance. Present, too, were Will Hull and his sister Constance, the Judge's grandchildren, and the Mumbies; Ada, Bob, and the younger brother, Decatur, a sprig from the Naval Academy, evidently under the effects of his gilt buttons and embroidered foul-anchors. Mark was not long in discovering Edna. Her fair face was heightened in color, and beaming with joy. His eyes followed her eagerly amid the couples that whirled swiftly by, and he caught glimpses of her satin-shod feet, arched like an Arab maid's. The music ceased, and the confused chatter of many voices arose. Close by him came a group of girls prattling together, and discussing their partners with the frankness of guileless maidenhood. Scraps of their conversation reached him.