"With regret, then, Lady Dora; but where so grave an occupation calls you, I must submit;" and with a few constrained words they parted. Parting is very awkward, where two persons have been trying their wings together in a flight of love; one or the other is sure to lose some feathers in endeavouring to smooth them down into sober propriety at the last moment. Tremenhere was perfectly calm, and all a mamma like Lady Ripley might wish to see him. Lady Dora blushed--half held out her hand--half withdrew it. "Permit me to fasten your glove, Lady Dora," he said quietly; "I see it embarrasses you." She held it towards him, colouring deeply. Scarcely touching the hand, he buttoned it; and, bowing with perfect ease, he led the way to the outer door. * * * * * "Has the workwoman sent in those dominoes?" asked Madame ----, of her forewoman, that afternoon. "No." "Then send directly, and say they _must_ come in at once; for _cette belle Anglaise Milady_ Dora Vaughan, is coming to select one of them, and _Milady_ Lysson, and several others, who are going _en cachette_ to a _bal de l'opera_, this evening." This message was given to the workwoman; and Minnie's pale fingers trembled violently as she finished off the last hood, for she was the workwoman, in her little, sad garret! CHAPTER XIV. Need we describe a _bal de l'opera_?--we mean, in all its varied groups, its mystery, its joyousness! Or only skim over the surface, and speak of the mounting the carpeted stair, with the immense mirrors on the landing, where you are startled at first by the shadow you cast upon it--a gloomy vision pourtraying _tout en noir_! Then the almost silent whispering groups, like muffled demons. Here, a couple _en costume_; there, a man leaning against a pillar, looking frightfully sheepish, and trying to smile and retort.