And now an audible whisper might have been heard among the throng:
"Who is she? oh, who is she?—that beautiful girl with Mr. Curtis. I never saw her before."
"Nor I. Nor I. Who can she be?" ran around the room. "How distingue she is! how surpassingly beautiful! and how magnificently dressed! Oh, I must get an introduction. See, he is bringing her up now to present her to the governor. I'll ask him to introduce me. She is certainly destined to be the belle of the evening."
Meantime two or three quadrilles had formed, and the group surrounding the governor had thinned, and he was left as much alone as he was likely to be during the evening. Leaning against a marble pillar, he stood talking to a starred and ribboned foreigner, and when Curtis approached with Georgia, he was so engrossed with the topic they were discussing that he did not observe him until his voice fell on her ear.
"Mrs. Wildair, your excellency!" said Mr. Curtis, in the most emphatic of voices, standing right before him.
He started up, staggered back, grew deadly pale, and grasped the marble pillar for support.
Yes, there before him, radiant in her beauty, with serene brow and calm smile, stood his long-lost wife—face to face at last!