“Yes, and her husband repeated it; he is going to give them all his money in the end. Isn’t it disgusting!” “Did they tell you this?” “Indeed they did. He is with her now. I saw them going toward the dancing-room.” Mrs. Lambert arose, took the arm of a gentleman nearest her, and moved toward the dancers. She did not speak, could not, in fact, for a band seemed tightening about her throat. Over the black-walnut floor, with its mosaic border of satin-wood circling the room a yard deep, a maze of dancers were whirling in and out, swaying gracefully to the music, as young trees bend to the wind. Among them was Ross and Eva Laurence, her hand was upon his shoulder, his arm circled her waist, yet scarcely touched it. He was still in the prime of manly beauty, and the girl was loveliness itself. She was dancing with all the spirit and grace of one to whom the exercise was a delightful novelty; and he seemed to feel the glow of her happiness in every nerve of his body. When they rested, he stooped over her lovingly, and smiled as she lifted her eyes to his. If ever exquisite tenderness softened a human face, the woman who watched his so eagerly, saw it there. Oh! how she hated that girl! With what bitter despair she gazed on the man. A sort of fascination possessed Mrs. Lambert; she lingered in the room, and seemed absorbed by a scene that had long since ceased to interest her; but her observation was fixed on one couple; she saw every look, watched every motion with a strange gleam in her eyes, and an ominous compression of her lips. At last the music ceased, and Ross was leading his partner to a seat, when Ivon Lambert came up and claimed her. Then her face changed like a rose suddenly struck by the sunshine; a delicate glow swept over it; her eyes drooped when his hand touched her waist; she leaned toward him as a flower bends on its stalk. Mrs. Lambert saw this and drew a deep breath. “Youth,” she whispered to herself, “turns to youth. I will not believe it.” Mrs. Lambert turned and saw that Ross stood beside her. She drew her hand from the gentleman who had led her to the room, bent her head in dismissal, and touched Ross upon the arm. Did he shrink, or was that a thrill of pleasure that followed her touch? She would have given the world to know. Her hand grew bolder and laid itself on his arm. He yielded to its pressure, and moved away. In a wing of the mansion was a conservatory full of flowering plants, and lighted with lamps that swung to and fro among the flowers, like mammoth pearls all on fire. Towards this place Mrs. Lambert led her companion. CHAPTER XL. OLD LOVERS. They stood under the shade of a tall drooping tree, starred with soft, yellow blossoms, that rose out of a little jungle of tropical plants in one end of the conservatory. Around them was the soft glow of moonlight, literally shed from alabaster lamps.