He was standing talking with one of the male guests, when the servant announced Miss Carden; and, whilst his heart was beating high, she glided into the room, and was received by the mistress of the house with all that superabundant warmth which ladies put on and men don't: guess why? When she turned round from this exuberant affection, she encountered Henry's black eye full of love and delight, and his tongue tied, and his swarthy cheek glowing red. She half started, and blushed in turn; and with one glance drank in every article of dress he had on. Her eyes beamed pleasure and admiration for a moment, then she made a little courtesy, then she took a step toward him, and held out her hand a little coyly. Their hands and eyes encountered; and, after that delightful collision, they were both as demure as cats approaching cream. Before they could say a word of any consequence, a cruel servant announced dinner, to the great satisfaction of every other soul in the room. Of course they were parted at dinner-time; but they sat exactly opposite each other, and Henry gazed at her so, instead of minding his business, that she was troubled a little, and fain to look another way. For all that, she found opportunity once or twice to exchange thoughts with him. Indeed, in the course of the two hours, she gave him quite a lesson how to speak with the eye--an art in which he was a mere child compared with her. She conveyed to him that she saw his mother and recognized her; and also she hoped to know her. But some of her telegrams puzzled him. When the gentlemen came up after dinner, she asked him if he would not present her to his mother. “Oh, thank you!” said he, naively; and introduced them to each other. The ladies courtesied with grace, but a certain formality, for they both felt the importance of the proceeding, and were a little on their guard. But they had too many safe, yet interesting topics, to be very long at a loss. “I should have known you by your picture, Mrs. Little.” “Ah, then I fear it must be faded since I saw it last.” “I think not. But I hope you will soon judge for yourself.” Mrs. Little shook her head. Then she said, graciously, “I hear it is to you I am indebted that people can see I was once--what I am not now.” Grace smiled, well pleased. “Ah,” said she, “I wish you could have seen that extraordinary scene, and heard dear Mr. Raby. Oh, madam, let nothing make you believe you have no place in his great heart!” “Pray, pray, do not speak of that. This is no place. How could I bear it?” and Mrs. Little began to tremble. Grace apologized. “How indiscreet I am; I blurt out every thing that is in my heart.” “And so do I,” said Henry, coming to her aid. “Ah, YOU,” said Grace, a little saucily. “We do not accept you for our pattern, you see. Pray excuse our bad taste, Harry.” “Oh, excuse ME, Mrs. Little. In some things I should indeed be proud if I could imitate him; but in others--of course--you know!”