CHAPTER 10 AT LADY GAYNOR’S BALL.

A month had passed, and the world was beginning to forget that such a person as Sir Harold Annesley had ever existed.

His man of business had closed the park, and dismissed half the servants, and it was the general belief that the eccentric young baronet was masquerading abroad. His actions had been strongly condemned; and many leaders of fashion decided to close their doors to him when he did return home again.

“This wearing of the willow must end,” the Earl of Seabright said to his daughter one morning. “Where is your pride, Elaine? Do you not see that you are an object of pity among the servants and one of contempt among your equals?”

“I do not care for either pity or contempt, papa,” she replied, listlessly.

“But I do!” was the angry retort.

“I do not see how it can affect you, papa.”

“You do not see!” he cried, in surprise. “Great Heavens, are you bereft of common sense? What man will care to marry a woman who is fretting after a lover who shamelessly jilted her?”

“My lover will come back to me,” replied Elaine. “I can marry no other man.”

“Where is your self-respect?” he demanded, furiously. “Your lover will never come back to you! Can you not see through his shallow trick? At least, you must appear in society. I will not have this moping away in dark rooms. Here is an invitation to Lady Gaynor’s ball. You must be there, if only to end the silly gossip about broken hearts. Pshaw, I have no sympathy with such nonsense!”

“If it is your desire, papa, I will accept the invitation,” Lady Elaine said, calmly; “but I shall find no pleasure at Lady Gaynor’s ball.”

The earl was satisfied that he had gained his point so far.

“She will soon forget the fellow in the excitement of pleasure. If necessary, I will take her abroad,” he thought.

Two days later Miss Nugent came and kissed Lady Elaine with a great show of affection.

The one subject was the ball and the dresses they were to wear. Lady Elaine treated the whole thing in a listless, apathetic manner.

“I have no special choice,” she said; “I shall leave the selection to my maid. I have no one to please.”

“My dear Elaine, how ridiculous you are,” exclaimed Margaret Nugent. “You know that the viscount adores you.”

“Silence!” the earl’s daughter said, sternly. “How can you speak in that way—you, who know all?”

“It is that very knowledge that makes me speak,” Miss Nugent replied, steadily. “It is that very knowledge that makes me speak, Lady Elaine. You are wasting your life for a man who never cared for you. He confessed to me that it was merely the infatuation of a moment. I dared not tell you so before. These creatures of poetic fancy are never to be trusted wholly. Sir Harold has ever been eccentric and quixotic; he has ever been afflicted with some new craze at which hard-hearted, sober-minded men have smiled. I believe that for a little while he worshiped you as the perfect embodiment of some cherished ideal; but the instant he realized that you were only human, his so-called love changed to actual dislike.”

Lady Elaine had become deadly pale.

“And do you expect me to listen to you, Margaret Nugent—to believe you?” she asked.

“Before Heaven, I swear that I am telling you simple truth, Lady Elaine! My cousin never really loved you as men are supposed to love women, and soon regretted the tangle he had woven about himself. To escape it, he stooped to trickery and dishonor. I alone am in his confidence. I alone know where he is wandering again. I have had a letter from him this very day. Even if you hate me for it, it is my duty to tell you the truth.”

“Heaven help me!” moaned Elaine. “I have given him my love—the love of my life—and I can never change! I worship the king of my dreams, not the wretched creature of clay that he has proved himself to be! And, now that I know the worst, I will school myself to wear a smile, though my heart is broken!”

It never occurred to her to doubt Miss Nugent’s words. Margaret had always been her friend, and there was no earthly reason why she should deceive her. Besides, everything pointed to the truth of the statement, and the mystery about Sir Harold was partly cleared away.

At Lady Gaynor’s ball she appeared to be one of the gayest of the gay, and my lord of Seabright was delighted.