To-night she would have borne
off the palm of beauty from any Court in the world, for her dress was a
creation of Paquin, and enhanced to perfection her delicate colouring,
which needed no artificial aids.
Diamonds glistened round her perfect throat, upon her head rested a
magnificent tiara of the same stones, her hands flashed as if touched
with living fire. She might have stood as a figure of Undine--as
beautiful and as soulless.
All around her the little band of courtiers thronged ever-changing, and
passing on to the ball-room as others eagerly took their place.
Half-past twelve struck, and she grew more impatient; the blue eyes
sparkled frostily, the red lips became more tightly set.
"Lady Merivale looks riled," Mortimer Shelton said to his partner as
they passed her. "You can see that by the sweetness of the smile with
which she has just favoured Hadley. She wishes him anywhere--I know.
Funny thing about you ladies! the madder you are with one poor
dev--fellow, the sweeter and deadlier you are to the rest of us."
His partner laughed; she was a bright little brunette, flushed with the
dance, and thoroughly happy.
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