blinded by jealousy; he can not see the purity and truth reflected in
hers; he misconstrues the pained expression that of late has saddened
her face.

For the last few days, ever since her momentous interview with Arthur
Dynecourt in the gallery, she has been timid and reserved with Sir
Adrian, and has endeavored to avoid his society. She is oppressed with
the thought that he has read her secret love for him, and seeks, by an
assumed coldness of demeanor and a studied avoidance of him, to induce
him to believe himself mistaken.

But Sir Adrian is only rendered more miserable by this avoidance, in the
thought that probably Mrs. Talbot has told Florence of his discovery of
her attachment to Arthur, and that she dreads his taxing her with her
duplicity, and so makes strenuous efforts to keep herself apart from
him. They have already drifted so far apart that to-night, when the play
has come to an end, and Florence has retired from the dressing-room, Sir
Adrian does not dream of approaching her to offer the congratulations on
her success that he would have showered upon her in a happier hour.

Florence, feeling lonely and depressed, having listlessly submitted
to her maid's guidance and changed her stage gown for a pale blue
ball-dress of satin and pearls--as dancing is to succeed the earlier
amusement of the evening--goes silently down-stairs, but, instead of
pursuing her way to the ball-room, where dancing has already commenced,
she turns aside, and, entering a small, dimly lighted antechamber, sinks
wearily upon a satin-covered lounge.

From a distance the sweet strains of a German waltz come softly to her
ears. There is deep sadness and melancholy in the music that attunes