The shadow which a moment before had cast a veil over the face of
Blanche he saw no longer. It had vanished, or his vision was not now
clear enough to discern its subtle texture.

"Take good care of Blanche," said Mr. Birtwell, in a light voice.
"And you, pet, see that Mr. Whitford enjoys himself."

Blanche did not reply. Her father turned away. Eyes not veiled as
Whitford's now were would have seen that the filmy cloud which had
come over her face a little while before was less transparent, and
sensibly dimmed its brightness.

Scarcely had Mr. Birtwell left them when Mr. Elliott, who had only a
little while before heard of their engagement, said to Blanche in an
undertone, and with one of his sweet paternal smiles:

"I must take a glass of wine with you, dear, in, commemoration of
the happy event."

Mr. Elliott had not meant to include young Whitford in the
invitation. The latter had spoken to a lady acquaintance who stood
near him, and was saying a few words to her, thus disengaging
Blanche. But observing that Mr. Elliott was talking to Blanche, he
turned from the lady and joined her again. And, so Mr. Elliott had
to say:

"We are going to have a glass of wine in honor of the auspicious
event."

Three glasses were filled by the clergyman, and then he stood face