It was the seal of our engagement, that first kiss; I stood in the sight of what was all the world to me, tacitly acknowledging what I had done. I was parting from the lover to whom they all fancied I was devoted, but it was shame, and not love, that brought the blood into my cheeks to meet his first caress. I did not move or raise my eyes till the sound of carriage-wheels died away down the avenue. Then the treacherous color receded slowly from my face, and left it white as marble. Conquering as best I might the giddy faintness that came over me, I walked steadily into the parlor, where the whispering and amazed group of ladies still stood. Not heeding Josephine's, "Well, my dear, we weren't quite prepared for this! We didn't know how far things had gone," I went up to Mrs. Churchill and said: "I should have told you of this before, Aunt Edith. I have accepted Mr. Viennet." "I should have been gratified by your confidence if you had chosen to bestow it. However, you have my congratulations," and she gave me her hand, and touched her lips lightly to my forehead. "I suppose we must all congratulate you," said Grace, with a laugh. "But, really, it took _me_ so entirely by surprise, that I shan't be able to collect my wits for an appropriate speech under two hours." "I will excuse you from it altogether," I said, turning away to the door. I stopped involuntarily as I passed Josephine. "If it is a matter of congratulation at all, I hope I have yours, Josephine," I said, holding out my hand. "Of course," she returned, awkwardly, accepting my hand. "Of course you have." I looked at her for a moment; it was so strange that I should be so miserable and she so blessed. We, "two daughters of one race"--the same blood flowing in our veins--the same woman's heart beating in our bosoms--why was it that I was forbidden every good, tempted of the devil, driven into evil, and she, unfeeling and light-hearted, smiled down at me from her secure height of happiness, wore carelessly the love that I would have died to win, played thoughtlessly with it in my jealous sight, and made a jest of what was life and death to me. She did not understand my strange and wistful look, and, with a smothered sigh, I withdrew my gaze, and turned away. Perhaps her mother could have interpreted it better; perhaps, if she had chosen, she could have told her daughter I was not the happy fiancée I seemed; and perhaps, if she had chosen, she could have told her to whom I owed the greater part of what I suffered. I mounted the stairs with a slow and heavy step; Mr. Rutledge passed me coming down. He did not raise his eyes nor look at me, but in the glance I had of his face it seemed to me darker and moodier than ever, and his step heavier and more decided. He went toward the stables, and in a few minutes I heard his horse's hoofs clattering down the avenue.