trial. This reflection preyed upon her more than usual the day of the great party, which gave rise to her excited feelings towards him then. She was playing on the piano when Ernest and Rosalind arrived that evening, the latter having been detained by company which made them late. Mr. Livingston was exceedingly fond of music, in which accomplishment Miss Blanche excelled, and she was performing the same difficult but exquisite part that won his admiration the first time he ever saw her. Could it be that she harbored an unkind feeling toward any human being, and especially toward him who had given her no cause of offence, thought Mr. Livingston, as the sound floated upward, making him feel that he could forgive the greatest personal injury ever committed by a human being. Probably not many among that brilliant throng would have shrunk from the same acknowledgment, listening as they were with the most intense enthusiasm to this melodious inspiration, scarcely knowing which were most fascinating, the thrilling notes of the music or the beauty and gracefulness of the player, enhanced now by the fervor of soul thrown into the performance.
He resolved to make another attempt, and speak to her as if nothing had happened when she rose from the piano, not doubting that amid the crowd of people and the exalting influences of the moment she would, like himself, banish all former distrust, and treat him at least courteously. But he miscalculated that time.
She experience the opposite sensation. She knew when he entered, knew where he was standing
