As she was his only child and heiress, everything must be on a grand scale befitting his daughter and the fine match she was making. The trousseau was ordered, putting to work an army of dressmakers, and invitations were sent out two weeks ahead of the date. Society was all agog over the expected event. And Eva became the centre of a little whirlwind of joyous bustle and confusion that left her little time for grief or retrospection. There was one comfort in it all, Doctor Ludington did not come so much. Not that he had ever taken up any of Eva’s time. His visits had been to Ada alone, and they had never met by accident again as on the evening in the conservatory, when they had so cruelly wounded each other in the efforts to appear mutually indifferent. But when he was in the house Eva was always subtly conscious of the fact, always a prey to restlessness and suspense. Not dreaming of the pain he gave her, he continued his attentions to Ada, with the sole purpose of showing Eva he did not care, that his heart was very likely engaged by another. In her turn, Eva sent him wedding cards. It was a stunning blow. He had believed her betrothed to Hamilton, but never realized the nearness of the wedding day. In his bitter pride he had never even shown his heart to Ada, never asked her any questions of his old love. And she, dreading that the subject might be distasteful to him, had volunteered no information. So the blow came without warning. With her own fair hands Eva had addressed her wedding cards to her old lover. “He shall see me wedded to another,” she said bitterly. “Perhaps then he will feel a pang at his own inconstancy.” Doctor Ludington received the cards, and for some days he did not call in Fifth Avenue again. He had some difficulty holding his feelings in check, now that he realized Eva was lost to him forever. He realized now that always, up to the present moment, there had been a little spark of hope glowing warmly in his heart that some day Eva might repent the prejudice that had parted their lives and call him back again. The die was cast, the hope was dead. He remained away a while to bury the corpse. Then he called on Ada again, but, quite fortunately for Eva, she was at the opera with her father and her lover, and did not have to bear the pain of knowing he was in the house. He forced himself to speak calmly of the coming event, yet the clever girl heard the pain in his voice, and saw the ravages that grief had wrought in his looks the last few days. Her generous heart ached for him--for Eva, too, and for Reggie, who was going to get so poor a sham of love in return for his devotion. She knew it would pain her visitor to praise his rival, so she only said: “The family are well pleased with the match, and Eva believes she will be very happy with him.” “Oh, no doubt,” sarcastically.