the glamour of outward courtesy and good-breeding.

At first Christine entered into the dance with great zest and a decided
sense of relief. She was disappointed and out of sorts with herself.
Again she had failed in the object of her intense ambition, and though
conscious that, through the excitement of the occasion, she had sung
better than ever before, yet she plainly saw in the different results
of her singing and that of Dennis Fleet that there was a depth in the
human heart which she could not reach. She could secure only admiration,
superficial applause. The sphere of the true artist who can touch and
sway the popular heart seemed beyond her ability. By voice or pencil
she had never yet attained it. She had too much mind to mistake the
character of the admiration she excited, and was far too ambitious to
be satisfied with the mere praise bestowed on a highly accomplished
girl. She aspired, determined, to be among the first, and to be a
second-rate imitator in the world of art was to her the agony of a
disappointed life. And yet to imitate with accuracy and skill, not
with sympathy, was the only power she had as yet developed. She saw
the limitations of her success more clearly than did any one else, and
chafed bitterly at the invisible bounds she could not pass.

The excitement of the dance enabled her to banish thoughts that were
both painful and humiliating. Moreover, to a nature so active and full
of physical vigor, the swift, grace motion was a source of keen
enjoyment.

But when after supper many of the ladies were silly, and the gentlemen
were either stupid or excited, according to the action of the "invisible
spirit of wine" upon their several constitutions--when after many
glasses of champagne Mr. Mellen began to effervesce in frothy