A snowy hand, sparkling with diamonds, fluttered down on Talbot Strangemore’s arm and a pair of seductive blue eyes looked up into his proud dark ones. An uneasy frown drew his brows together, and he mentally ejaculated: “The devil!” To-morrow evening had come, and with it had punctually appeared Mr. Strangemore’s self-invited guests. There were all in all three ladies and four gentlemen. Talbot and his aunt had received and welcomed them, and now all had gone to their rooms to dress for dinner. One indeed had finished her toilette and come down before the others to the elegant parlor where, as she had hoped and expected she found Talbot Strangemore alone. She was a petite, flaxen-haired fairy with a milk-white skin, rosy cheeks, and large limpid blue eyes that usually wore a look of infantine guilelessness and confidence that impressed one with the idea that she was sixteen instead of six and twenty, her real age. She was as exquisitely pretty as a doll, and her dress of soft blue silk and creamy-hued lace, with ornaments of torquoise and pearls, enhanced her dainty charms. But, lovely, winning, as she was, the frown between Talbot Strangemore’s eyes was a deep one as he looked down at her and answered: “Excuse me, Sibyl, but there is no time for us to talk privately now. I shall have to remain in here to entertain my guests who will be coming down at any moment.” She looked at him with a mutinous pout on her rich, red lips. “I don’t believe you want to talk to me, there,” she said, “I thought you’d be just dying to see me again, but I see how it is--the girl-wife has rivalled me in your fickle heart already. Oh, Talbot, Talbot, I did not believe you could be so cruel to me!” The pale, gold lashes began to glitter with the dew of impending tears. “Do not make a scene, for Heaven’s sake, Sibyl,” he said, impatiently, “I don’t go in for hysterics, you know. Come into the conservatory and look at the flowers. If you must talk to me now, I suppose you can have an opportunity there.” A gleam of triumph brightened her eyes as he drew her into the conservatory, that had a door opening from the parlor. She slipped her hand through his arm in a pretty, confiding fashion, and began to talk to him eagerly. The parlor began to fill up quickly with the guests who strolled in one after another. Miss Drusilla and her niece entered, Nina in her pretty bride-like white again, with five rows of great, moon-white pearls shining around the slender column of her graceful throat. Some womanly longing to look as lovely as she could in the eyes of her rival had made her quite quiescent under Kitty’s loving hands this evening. The result was a lovely, snow-white maiden, whose own wine-dark eyes, golden hair, and girlish bloom, set off the whiteness of her robe admirably. She greeted the guests with graceful ease, although each one noted her single, quick, disappointed glance around the room. One man whispered _sub rosa_ to the others: