It was a most enlivening ensemble, full of pleasant attractions to the senses; and through it moved Carlisle Heth, the most beautiful lady, with a look like that of a queen in a book. In that gay company she was the proudest figure, the object of all most captivating to the eye, save one; and that one, an Olympian in evening dress, sauntered splendidly at her side. Mr. Canning to-night made his début in the local gay world. Constant as had been his attentions for a number of days, he had hitherto held steadfastly to his valetudinarian stand against general society. He had gambolled, indeed, but he had gambolled strictly _à deux_. In his present willingness to break through his invalid rules, and appear as her acknowledged squire before the flower of her world, Carlisle's heart had recognized the crowning proof of his interest. Small wonder if in prospect this victorious evening had been starred in her mind in purple and gold.... The shining pair had just arrived, lateness being reckoned very differently in Houses of Heth and Houses of Dabney. Their brilliant progress down the long gay room, stopped often for the giving and taking of greetings, left behind awake of _sotto-voce_ compliment. Cally Heth, though the familiar sight of every day, was a spectacle, or view, not easily tired of. In a company in which most had known each other from birth, her distinguished stranger and captive naturally drew even keener interest. "Look, there he is!" whispered an excited debutante. "Oh, what a dream!..." "I never saw Cally look better. If she were _only_ a little taller, what a match they'd make." (This was Cally's second-best friend Evelyn McVey, herself a tall girl.) "Wissner ought to hit up that well-known snatch from' Lohengrin' ..." "Certainly, Mrs. Bronson. Delighted to introduce you--introduce him, that is. Just a little later, though. Wouldn't have me interrupt _that_, would you?" Thus faithful Willie Kerr, somewhat harassed by the responsibilities of being next friend to a crown prince. Backbiting among the well-bred murmurs there was of course. Mrs. Berkeley Page, the hostile one who had made the remark about the Heths being very improbable people, naturally spoke in her characteristic vein. She made her observations to her great crony, Mr. Richard Marye, who plucked a glass of champagne from a beckoned lackey, and answered: "Whoever conceived a Canning to be an anchorite?... My dear, why are you so severe with these very excellent and worthy people?" "Is it severe," said the lady, "to refuse to be cozened by gay lips and dramatic hair?" "Aspiration," mused her elderly friend, sipping comfortably, "is the mainspring of progress. Don't you admire onward and upward? What harm can a little climbing possibly do to you and me?"