At night the storm passed over, the bright stars shone through the misty veil of darkness, a lovely silver moon hung its crescent in the sky. All things seemed propitious for the hour that was "big with fate" to the lovely girl whose changing fortunes we have followed to the turning point of her life.
Cold, and dark, and gloomy though it seemed outside, all was light, and warmth, and summer in the splendid chateau.
Hot-house flowers bloomed everywhere in the most lavish profusion. The air was heavy with their fragrance.
Entrancing strains of music echoed through the splendid halls, tempting light feet to the gay whirl of the dance. The splendid drawing-rooms, opening into each other, looked like long vistas of fairy-land, in the glow of light, and the beauty shed around by countless flowers overflowing great marble vases everywhere. The gay masquers moved through the entrancing scene, chatting, laughing, dancing, as though life itself were but one long revel. In the banqueting hall the long tables were loaded with every luxury under the sun, temptingly spread on gold and silver plates. Nothing that taste could devise, or wealth could procure, was lacking for the enjoyment of the guests; and pleasure reigned supreme.
It was almost the hour for unmasking, and Colonel Carlyle stood alone, half hidden by a crimson-satin curtain, looking on idly at the gay dancers before him.
He felt weary and dull, though he would not have owned it for the world. He hated to feel the weakness and feebleness of old age creeping over him, as it was too surely doing, and affected to enter into all the gaieties of the season, with the zest and ardor of a younger and stronger man.
He had for a few moments felt dull, sad and discontented. The reason was because he had lost sight of his beautiful idol whom no mask could hide from his loving eyes.
She had disappeared in the moving throng a little while ago, and now he impatiently waited until some happy chance should restore her to his sight again.
"I am very foolish over my darling," he said to himself, half proudly, half seriously. "I do not believe that any young man could worship her as passionately as I do. I watch over her as closely and jealously as if some dread mischance might remove her from my sight at any moment. Ah, those dreadful two years in which I so cruelly put her out of my life and starved my eyes and my heart—would that I might recall them and undo their work! Those years of separation and repentance have sadly aged me!"