snippet of paper! But you soon drop off! Oh, that valse! Isn't it
entrancing!"

And, swinging herself round lightly like a bell-flower in a breeze
she danced off alone and vanished in the crowd of her guests.

Lydia Herbert recalled this conversation now, as she stood looking
from the vine-clad verandah of her hotel towards the sea, and again
saw, as in a vision, the face and eyes of her "fey" friend,--a face
by no means beautiful in feature, but full of a sparkling attraction
which was almost irresistible.

"Nothing in her!" had declared New York society generally--"Except
her money! And her hair--but not even that unless she lets it down!"

Lydia had seen it so "let down," once, and only once, and the sight
of such a glistening rope of gold had fairly startled her.

"All your own?" she had gasped.

And with a twinkling smile, and comic hesitation of manner Morgana
had answered.

"I--I THINK it is! It seems so! I don't believe it will come off
unless you pull VERY hard!"

Lydia had not pulled hard, but she had felt the soft rippling mass
falling from head to far below the knee, and had silently envied the
owner its possession.