"Oh, very well, then," returns Ferdie; "suppose you come down to our supper party _now_! I know what Mrs. Livingston wants to say to you, won't take over three minutes, and Miss Travenion won't occupy you five. Come down and join us? We are pretty well finished." "But this young gentleman," remarks Whitehouse, smiling at Lawrence. "Oh, bring Captain Lawrence down with you," and before Southmead can reply to this request, which is given in an off-hand, snappy kind of a way, Ferdie finds his hand grasped warmly in a set of bronzed maniples and Harry Storey Lawrence looking into his eyes with a face full of gratitude, and saying to him, "Certainly! I will run down with you with the greatest pleasure." "But--" interjects Southmead. "Oh, it will not inconvenience me in the slightest. It will be rather a pleasure," cries the Westerner. And before he can urge any further objection to Mr. Ferdinand Chauncey's proposed move, the two younger men have left the room and are walking down-stairs, and the lawyer has nothing to do but to follow after them as rapidly as possible. The door of the Chinese-room is opened for Mr. Chauncey. As he looks in one thought strikes the mind of the mining man, and that is,--If you would thoroughly appreciate the beauty of women, be without their society for a few months. Then you will know why men rave about them, why men die for them. No prettier sight has ever come before the eyes of this young Westerner,--who has still the fire of youth in his veins, but whose life has kept him away from nearly all such scenes as this,--than this one he gazes on with beaming eyes, flushed face, a slight trembling of his stalwart limbs. This room, made bright by Chinese decorations and Oriental color, illuminated by the soft wax lights of the supper table, and made radiant by the presence of lovely women--one of whom--the one his eyes seek--the like of which he has never seen before--Erma Travenion. CHAPTER II. MISS EAST. The girl stands in an easy, but vivacious, attitude. She has just been telling some story, and growing excited, has got to acting it, to the derangement but beauty of her toilet, as a little bonnet made all of pansies has fallen, and hanging by two light blue ribbons, adorns her white neck instead of her fair hair, which, disordered by her enthusiasm, has become wavy, floating and gold in the light, and red bronze in the shadow. The party having left the supper table with its fruit, flowers, crystal, silverware and decorated china, are grouped about, looking at her.