The sweet voice of the reader was not heard in vain. Marguerite closed the book and remained motionless for some moments, when she fancied that there was a noise as if some one were listening at the door.
"I am so foolish. My nerves are unstrung from keeping late hours," murmured she. Then hastily glancing towards the spot whence the sound proceeded Marguerite knelt down and prayed that an All-Merciful Providence would keep her from the temptations of fashionable society.
"God help me, I'm lost. I dare not approach that angel in disguise, else I would ask her what is meant by that Charity."
These words were muttered by Montague Arnold, who having been unable to attend his wife to the ball, had now returned in a state of intoxication.
Had Marguerite listened she might have heard the words repeated; but she had dropped off into a quiet slumber and lay unconscious of the semi-brutal state of her dissipated brother-in-law.
The next morning brought invitations for private theatricals at the house of a distinguished foreign embassy.
The spacious mansion in St. James' Court received the grandees of every land. It was a high honor to enter "Rosemere Place."
Mrs. Verne was almost beside herself (to use a vulgarism). She walked on air, as it were, and could talk of nothing else but the elegance and grandeur in prospect.
"I have accepted Mr. Tracy as escort, mamma," said Mrs. Arnold, entering her drawing room with an elegant dress that had just arrived from the modiste.
"Now, Evelyn, have you not been a little premature? Would it not have been better to wait, for I think that Sir Arthur would in all probability have called to offer his service to Madge."