But although the girls were jealous of her, they were as well in awe of her, and did not dare to carry their hostility too far. They were alive to the fact that she was very good-looking, and that a little display of amiability on her part was alone required to bring the young men about her in a swarm. Peering through the opening, Jack watched Winefred's face as he had never before been able to observe it. He wondered why she was there, so manifest was it that the entertainment afforded her no pleasure. Others wondered as well as he. A couple was standing outside, leaning against the door, in the shadow of which he was concealed. 'Do y' mark her, Joe?' asked the girl. 'Yes, I do, Bessie. She is tart as a green gooseberry, and will curdle Mrs. Jose's milk.' 'Why has she come, Joe? I can tell you. To outflounce us girls, and to make mock at you lads. She thinks herself in her finery as high as the clouds above us.' 'She is vastly pretty,' said Joe. 'Oh! if you think so, go and ask her to dance.' Jack did not remove his eyes from her. She certainly was pretty. She was more than pretty――most of the girls present were that――but she was above them in beauty as she transcended them in dress. The brow, broad and intelligent, was lighted by the candles above, and set off by her profuse dark hair. Her eyes were lowered, and the long lashes swept her cheek. The face was long, but formed an oval, and the chin, if pointed, was not too sharp. The delicate, sinuous lips would have made the mouth delicious but for the expression of bitterness that compressed them. There was no brightness, not the suspicion of a smile, in her face, more than in that of a corpse. Winefred was certainly unhappy. Jack was convinced of that. She sat there, in the midst of gaiety, without partaking of it, suffering internally, yet afraid to let this be seen, lest it should be made an occasion of jest. She kept herself under control. The tension of the muscles showed how great the exertion was. Was it her fault, asked Jack of himself, that Winefred was left so completely alone; that no one, except at intervals Mrs. Jose, spoke to her; that she dared not lift her eyes lest she should encounter looks of animosity? Was it so very certain that her mother had done that wherewith she was charged by the general voice? Was not that charge formulated to express the envy and spite of those who saw the woman who had been under their feet lifted above their heads? And even if Mrs. Marley had done him this wrong, was her daughter a partaker in it? Consciously, certainly she was not. Asking these questions, and thus musing, Jack continued to watch the face. He was sure that the hardness in the countenance, the twitching of the set mouth, and the convulsive knitting of the hands on the lap were due to effort to suppress tears that were welling up in her heart.