" Never was known a night of such distraction I"
"A kind of weight hangs heavy at my heart."
"love! thou art bitter! "
Upon the soft, perfumed air the sad rise and fall of the
violins rests plaintively. The lights are trembling, and
the distant plash of fountains falling musically into their
marble basins steals now and again upon the senses.
Fans are waving to and fro, and light young hearts are
beating; and sorrow and dull remorse and pale unsatisfied
longing seem but as vague shadows that belong not to this
brilliant, breathing world.
Patricia in white, without any ornaments, looks the very
idealisation of girlhood. Sylvia Yelverton in maize satin
looks beautiful. But Imogen, with her great steadfast
eyes and her face that is " pale as a rose is," deadens all
other beauty into mere nothingness.
One forgets how she is gowned when looking on her.
What robe, what colour, is it that would not become her ?
Felix Brown, watching her from a distairt doorway,
acknowledges this great charm of hers with a choking
sensation in his throat that savours strongly of despair.
The much-desired first waltz has been given to Lord
Clanbrassil, to the chagrin of many besides Felix. He,
indeed, had not dared to aspire to it; as, ever since that
last walk with her across the park, her manner to him had
been more than usually reserved and frigid, and to-night
she has, so far, steadily ignored his presence.
She is decidedly pale, and there is a little touch of
languor about her that serves to heighten her charms.