Meade L. T. - A Sister of the Red Cross: A Tale of the South African War стр 31.

the direction where the Silver Queen was standing in the midst of a glittering throng.

"Who is that young lady?" asked Anne Boleyn.

Her companion followed her eyes, looked at the Silver Queen, and said in a tone of admiration,

"What a lovely girl she is! quite one of the belles on this most auspicious evening."

"She is a beautiful girl. But I am not interested in her looks," said Katherine Hunt; "I want to know her name."

"If you will let me take you to this chair, I will endeavour to find out," replied the Armenian slave.

She sank into a seat near an open window, and he went to do her bidding. He came back after a minute or two.

"The fair lady's name is Miss Katherine Hepworth. I cannot find out much about her. She has been in society a little, not a great deal. She is acknowledged to be quite a beauty wherever she goes."

"Katherine Hepworth," whispered Katherine Hunt to herself. "K.H., Katherine Hepworth K.H."

"What do you mean?" asked the Armenian slave.

"She has my initials," replied the girl. "I am interested in her. I should like to know her."

"Well, I have no doubt we can manage an introduction. I will try to find a mutual friend."

"Oh, there is no special hurry. I am not inclined to dance just at present; I want to watch the people. Sit down near me, will you, and tell me who's who."

The Armenian slave was well known in society as a certain Mr. Roy, an inveterate gossip, and a man who never failed to secure an entrée into the best houses. He was not in love with Katherine Hunt; but he was considerably in love with her money, and in consequence was only too anxious to do anything to please the young lady. He stood near her now, bent towards her, and answered her different questions. Yes, he knew everybody; through all their disguises he recognized the well-known features of the ladies of fashion. Even under their dominoes he knew who the men were who walked about to-night in their foreign characters. The only guest he neither knew nor recognized was the god of war, who made no sound as he peered into the faces of the guests. Beside the god of war might also have been seen by those who had very keen vision by those who had that penetration which amounts to second sight the grim, very grim form of the god of death. And the god of death marked his victims that night, scoring the name of one young gallant after another in his book of fate, for many met that evening who were never to meet again. The fancy ball at Kenmuir House was something like the celebrated dance in Brussels before the battle of Waterloo

"Bright eyes looked love to eyes that spake again,

And all went merry as a marriage bell."

"Captain Keith!" said Katherine Hunt.

He turned at once.

"Don't

you know me?" she said. "I am Anne Boleyn in this room. When I return home to-night I shall be Katherine Hunt. Don't you remember me?"

"Of course I do now," replied Keith. He did not offer to shake hands with her, nor did she hold out her hand to him, but he stood near her without speaking for a minute.

The Armenian slave, seeing he was not wanted, went off in quest of another partner, and Katherine made way for Keith to sit by her side.

"I am interested in you," she said frankly. "What you did the other day struck me as particularly un-nineteenth century. Why are you not in costume to-night?"

"I wear my Queen's colours," he replied.

She laughed, but it was evident that his remark pleased her.

"You are one of those who go south?" she said, dropping her voice.

"I am glad to say yes."

She did not speak at all for a minute. Then she said slowly,

"My card is not full." She handed it to him, smiling as she did so.

He took it, and scribbled his name for a waltz.

"The third from now," she said, looking at him. "Yes, I can give it you."

He sat with her for a few minutes longer, then bowed and left her. A partner came up to claim her hand. She glided away in the mazes of the waltz. As she flew round and round with her companion, a cavalier of the time of King Charles, she saw Captain Keith leaning idly against one of the massive doors. He was not dancing; his face looked moody. It seemed to her that his eyes were watching for some one. Presently she saw the girl in white and silver glide by in the arms of a handsome partner. At the same moment she noticed that Captain Keith drew himself up, and stood like one at attention. He seemed to stiffen all over, and his face wore an expression which was almost akin to pain. His eyes were fixed full on the girl in white and silver. Katherine Hunt began to feel that the plot was thickening.

"What intuition has seized me?" she said to herself. "He knows her beyond doubt, he knows her. I wait with impatience for the third waltz."

It came, and with it Captain Keith.

"Don't dance," she said suddenly; "come and sit in the garden. I am too hot to dance."

"Shall I fetch you an ice?" he asked.

"No; I only want air. It is cool out of doors. Come."

She led the way, and he followed her. They sat down together. Katherine Hunt was not sorry to perceive that the white and silver dress was in view that another girl, bearing the same initials as her own, was also resting under the shade of a sycamore. The light from a Chinese lantern fell softly on her face. This girl had her cavalier, of course, but her attitude was weary, and she was scarcely speaking. Katherine Hunt, impelled by an ardent curiosity, determined to see this game, as she termed it, through. She chose a seat which would keep the Silver Queen full in view, and she contrived that Captain Keith should sit near her, and in such a position that he could see each movement of the Silver Queen. They talked for a moment or two upon indifferent matters; then she turned her head, looked full up at him, and watched until his eyes rested on the hem of the dress of the other girl.