Passing behind the prettily ornamented stand occupied by the musicians, just as they struck up a delicious waltz, he plunged into the dimly-lighted recesses of the conservatory in search of the missing girl. She was not there, so he dared to penetrate into the passage before mentioned, on which one or two doors opened; one of them was open, letting in a brilliant light from the room behind, and just upon the threshold stood Ella Rivers, with an expectant look in her eyes. Wilton paused in his approach, so impressed was he by her air of distinction. The delicate white of her neck and arms showed through her dress of black gauze; her dark brown, glossy hair braided back into wide plaited loops behind her small shell-like ear, and brought round the head in a sort of crown, against which lay her only ornament, a white camellia with its dark green leaves. As she stood thus, still and composed, waiting patiently, and looking so purely, softly, colorless, and fair, the quiet grace of her figure, the dusk transparency of her drapery, associated her in Wilton's fancy with the tender beauty of moonlight; but, as the thought passed through his brain, he stepped forward and accosted her. "I have come to claim the waltz you promised me, Miss Rivers." She started, and colored slightly. "Yes," she replied, "I am ready, as you have remembered. I am waiting for Miss Walker, who promised to come for me." "She is engaged with some people in the ball-room, so I ventured to come in her place." He bowed, and offered his arm as he spoke, with the utmost deference; and Miss Rivers, with one quick, surprised glance, took it in silence. "You remembered your promise to me?" asked Wilton, as they passed through the conservatory. "Scarcely," she replied, with a slight smile. "I did not think of it till you spoke." "And had I been a little later I should have found you waltzing with some more fortunate fellow?" "Yes, very likely, had any one else asked me. You see," apologetically, "I am very fond of dancing, and I know so few--or rather I know no one--so had you not come, and I had waited for you, I might never have danced at all." "But you _knew_ I would come," exclaimed Wilton, eagerly. Miss Rivers shook her head, raising her eyes to his with the first approach to anything like coquetry he had ever noticed in her, though playfulness would be the truer description. "You knew I would come," he repeated. "Indeed I did not." These words brought them to the ball-room, and as they stepped out into the light and fragrance of the bright, well-filled, decorated room, Wilton's companion uttered a low exclamation of delight. "How beautiful! how charming--and the music! Come, let us dance! we are losing time. Oh! how long it is since I danced! How glad I am you came for me!"