“Because the correspondence is so perfect that it strikes me at once, as it ought to strike everybody.”
“How? how?”
“The correspondence between her nature and her costume, I mean! The outward glow expresses the inward heat. Believe me, Sybil Berners has been masquerading all her life, and now for the first time appears in her true character—a ‘Fire Queen!’”
Such gossip as this was going on all over the room, but only in this circle was the secret of Sybil’s character discovered. But soon this discovery found its way through the crowd, and in half an hour after the secret was first revealed, every one in the room knew of it, except the person most concerned. Sybil was surrounded by a circle of admirers, each one of whom, even by the slightest change of tone or manner, revealed their knowledge, for it would have been as much against the laws of etiquette and courtesy to recognize her before she was willing to be recognized, as it would have been to have unmasked her before she was ready to unmask. So they were very guarded in their manners—even more guarded than they needed to be, for Sybil was not critical, she was indeed scarcely observant of them. She was too deeply absorbed in watching her adored husband and her abhorred rival, as, twined in each other’s embrace, they swam around and around in the dizzy waltz, appearing, disappearing, and reappearing as they made the grand circle of the saloon.
At first they did not see Sybil, entrenched as she was behind her group of admirers; but the moment that they did see her—and Sybil knew that very moment—they modified their manners towards each other. And again Sybil was more disgusted than pleased at what she thought confirmed her worst suspicions of them.
At length the waltz was over. Lyon Berners led his fair partner to a seat, left her there and came to speak to his wife. But it was not until her group of admirers had separated to go in search of partners for the ensuing quadrille, that he had an opportunity of speaking to her privately.
“How are you enjoying yourself?” he inquired, on general principles.
“I am looking on. I am really interested in all these fooleries,” answered Sybil evasively, but truly.
“Why were you not waltzing?”
“Why? Because I did not choose and could not have borne to have had my waist encircled by any other man’s arm than yours, Lyon,” answered his wife, very gravely.