Amid the painful doubts of his own position, his hopes and his fears, Cecil saw with pleasure how radiantly happy his friend Fotheringhame and Annabelle Erroll were enjoying the ball and their own society to the fullest extent; and sooth to say, though Blanche Gordon, the girl who had 'thrown him over,' was present, and looking very queenly in her costume and her loveliness, he seemed to have eyes only for Annabelle; and as his arm encircled her there was a depth of emotion in her tender blue eyes when their gaze met his, that called up many a loving thought, and, though they were silent, led both to remember the scenes of their past, upon the shining river, when the boat glided under the silver birches and the water-lilies floated by her side--scenes to be visited together, as they hoped, again. But, as, if there could be no perfect brightness without a shadow, no perfect happiness without some alloy, it chanced that when seated together in the vestibule, for coolness, there occurred an event which--though Annabelle thought little, perhaps, of it then--she had bitter cause to remember afterwards. A lady, closely veiled, passed quickly near them, after descending from the gallery usually occupied by servants and privileged spectators. She dropped a card-case or purse, and Fotheringhame hastened to restore it to her, on which with a low voice, she thanked him by name, involuntarily as it would seem. 'Why are you here to-night?' he asked severely. 'To see--you.' 'How rash--how foolish--go home!' She hurried away, and on Fotheringhame rejoining Annabelle, the latter could see that he had suddenly become very pale. 'Do you know that--person?' she asked while slowly fanning herself, and fixing her upturned eyes upon him. 'Why do you ask, dearest Bella?' said he, as if to gain time for thought. 'Because she seemed to know you, and called you Leslie.' 'Surely not; but so many people know me--the world is such a small place. I know her to be very unhappy, and this gay scene is the last place where I would expect to see her, even as a spectator.' He spoke with perfect deliberation and confidence now, but failed to inspire his listener with the latter, as she read a sudden and settled gloom in his eyes. The strange woman--a lady evidently--admitted that she had come hither to see him. Why? Then he had desired her to 'go home.' Where was her home? Who was she? And why did this chance meeting make him so _distrait_?