What could anything avail now? They were parted forever. Perhaps he could console himself with the little witch Annette, who was smiling so sweetly on him now; and at the thought she, too, felt the arrow of love’s jealous pain pierce her heart as it pierced that of Reed Raymond sitting yonder so pale and self-possessed, like a soldier under fire.
Yes, it was a strangely assorted group, and there was an element of tragedy in the very air. All felt it except Mrs. Hill-Dixon, the handsome, middle-aged woman who did not happen to be in the secret.
But they had all been talking for half an hour on careless society subjects quite as if everything was as it seemed on the surface, when suddenly the lady exclaimed:
“My dear Dallas, we must be going.”
Instantly a quick tremor of excitement ran through the group.
Dallas was not a common name, and, coupled with his startling likeness to Dallas Bain, carried instant conviction of his identity to all.
Lutie Fleming uttered a little cry of surprise and dismay, and Royall Sherwood, paling to the very lips, exclaimed:
“Dallas—Dallas Bain! Is it possible—my old friend?”
Every face wore such a look of dismay that Mrs. Hill-Dixon cried in wonder:
“Why, what is the matter?”