"Then why did you not invite them to dine at your own house?" Her voice was angry; her glance searching.
"The party was made up before I knew anything about it. They will all be here in the evening."
"I doubt it!" said she sneeringly. The flush deepened on his cheek and he bit his lip; then, turning suddenly to Beulah, he said, as he suffered his eyes to wander over her plain, fawn-colored merino dress:
"You have not yet heard Netta sing, I believe!"
"No."
"Where is she, Cornelia?"
"I have no idea."
"I hope my sister will be well enough to take part in the tableaux to-morrow evening." Taking her beautifully molded hand, he looked at her anxiously. Her piercing, black eyes were riveted on his countenance, as she answered:
"I don't know, Eugene; I have long since abandoned the hope of ever being well again. Perhaps I may be able to get down to the parlors. There is Antoinette in the passage. Good-night." She motioned him away.
He kissed her tenderly, shook hands a second time with Beulah, and left the room. Cornelia bowed her head on her palms; and, though her features were concealed, Beulah thought she moaned, as if in pain.