Mrs. Aylett was in her best feather that night; the suave

chatelaine, the dutiful consort; the tactful warder of the

interesting pair whose movements she had not ceased to watch from

the moment they took their places with the party about the

fire-place in the hall until she, alone of all the company, saw

Herbert Dorrance draw the diamond signet from its receptacle, and

the sparkle of the jewel as it slipped to its abiding-place upon

Mabel's finger.

Lest something unusual in their look or behavior should excite the

suspicions of their companions, make them the focus of inquisitive

observation and whispered remark, the diplomate passed again into

the hall, sweeping along in advance of them when they deserted their

curtained recess, and would have joined the rest of the company.

"Are we to have no dancing this evening?" she said, in hospitable

solicitude. "It wants an hour yet of supper-time. The exercise will

do you all good, particularly the young ladies, who have not stirred

beyond the piazzas to-day. I have been waiting for an invitation to

play for you, but my desire for your welfare has overcome native

humility. Will you accept my services as your musician?"

The suggestion was acceded to by acclamation, and while one

gentleman led her to the grand piano which stood between the front

windows of the drawing-room, and another opened a music-book which

she named, a set was quickly formed in the long apartment, the

soberer portion of the crowd ranging themselves along the walls as

lookers-on.

Mrs. Aylett was a proficient in dance-music. She never volunteered

to perform that which she was not conscious of doing well. She had

occasionally taken the floor for a single quadrille, to oblige a

favored guest--always a middle-aged or elderly gentleman--or moved

through a cotillion with ease and spirit as partner to her husband,

but she declined dancing, as a rule; was altogether indifferent to

the amusement, while she delighted to oblige her friends by playing

for them whenever and as long as they required her aid. Without

saying, in so many words, that she disapproved of the waltz for

unmarried ladies, and frowned upon promiscuous dancing for matrons,

she yet managed to regulate the social code of the neighborhood in

both these respects, was imitated and quoted by the most discreet of

chaperones and belles.

Mr. Dorrance was Mabel's partner; Rosa stood up with Randolph

Harrison, a gay youth, who was her latest attache; Tom Barksdale led

out a blushing, yet sprightly school-girl, and Imogene was his

vis-a-vis supported by an ancient admirer, who had comforted himself

for her preference for another man by falling in love with a

prettier woman. The room was decorated with garlands of running

cedar--a vine known in higher latitudes as "ground-pine," and which

carpeted acres of the Ridgeley woods. The vases on the mantel were

filled with holly, and other gayly colored berry boughs, while

roses, lemon and orange blossoms, mignonette and violets from the

conservatory were set about on tables and brackets, blending fresher

and more wholesome odors with those of the Parisian extracts wafted

from the ladies' dresses and handkerchiefs.




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