He did not speak for a moment. She watched her friend rise and go towards her affianced husband, a look of mischief in her face. There is Lady Arlingford’s reception to-night, ten till twelve, and the Hatton House ball, marked with a cross, sir, important. But she threw a verbal bombshell into the spinsters' camp. Gianfrancesco took her that night gently, for which she was glad. Not a star could be discerned, but, in their stead, streaks of lurid radiance, whence proceeding it was impossible to determine, shot ever and anon athwart the dusky vault, and added to the ominous and threatening appearance of the night. “The adventures I do not doubt, Annabel,” she said. But his treasured dream lay shattered at his feet.
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