We have already been present at more than one social gathering at Dr. Bodkin's house. But these entertainments have been of an informal character, and the guests at them all persons in the habit of meeting each other very frequently. On Mr. and Mrs. Algernon Errington's arrival in Whitford, after their marriage, Dr. and Mrs. Bodkin issued cards for an evening party, and invited the leading personages of their acquaintance to meet the bride and bridegroom.

Mrs. Errington was in high delight. She appreciated this attention from her old friends very highly. Castalia, it was true, looked discontented and disdainful about the whole affair; and demanded to know why she must be dragged out to these people's stupid parties before she had had time to turn round in her own house. But then, as Mrs. Errington reflected, Castalia did not understand Whitford society. "The fact is, my dear," said her mother-in-law with suavity, "it may be all a very trumpery business in your eyes, and after the circles you have moved in, but I assure you it is considered a very desirable thing here to have the entrée to Dr. Bodkin's. And then they scarcely ever entertain on a showy scale; nothing but a few friends, tea and cake, your rubber, and a tray afterwards. But, for this occasion, I hear there are great preparations going on. They won't dance, because Minnie can't stand the vibration. But there will be quite a large gathering. Of course, my dear, it is not what I was accustomed to at Ancram Park. But they are most kind, well-meaning people. And Minnie is highly accomplished; even learned, I believe."

"I hate blue-stockings," returned Mrs. Algernon with a shrug.

"Oh! but Minnie is not the least blue in her manners! Indeed, her knowing Greek has ever been a mystery to me; for I assure you she is extremely handsome, and has, I think, the finest pair of eyes I ever saw in my life. But I suppose it is accounted for by her affliction, poor thing!"

Castalia had darted a quick, suspicious glance at her husband on hearing of Minnie's beauty, but relapsed into languid indifference when she was told that Miss Bodkin was a confirmed invalid, suffering from disease of the spine.

In other circles Mrs. Errington was by no means so cool and condescending in speaking of the doctor's projected party. The check administered to her exultation by Castalia's chilly indifference only caused a fuller ebullition of it in other directions. She overwhelmed her new landlady by the magnitude and magnificence of her "Ancramisms"—I have already asked permission to use the phrase in these pages—and was looked up to by that simple soul as a very exalted personage; for the new landlady was no other than the widow Thimbleby.

Mrs. Errington occupied the two rooms on the first-floor above Mr. Diamond's parlours. The place was smaller and poorer altogether than Maxfield's house, although it did not yield to it in cleanliness. Here was Mrs. Errington's old blue china set forth on a side-table in the little oblong drawing-room; and her work-box with its amber satin and silver implements; and the faded miniatures hung over the mantelpiece. Also there was a square of substantial, if somewhat faded, carpet in the middle of Mrs. Thimbleby's threadbare drugget, a mahogany table, and a roomy, comfortable easy-chair, all of which we have seen before.

In a word, Mrs. Errington had taken advantage of old Max's somewhat rash offer, and had carried away with her such articles of furniture out of her old quarters as she fancied might be useful.

Mrs. Errington took some credit to herself for her magnanimity in so doing. "I could not refuse the poor man," she said to Mrs. Thimbleby. "I have lived many years in his house, and although he was led away by mistaken ambition to want his drawing-room for his own use, and certainly did cause me great inconvenience at a moment when I was up to my eyes in important business, yet I could not refuse to accept his little peace-offering. A lady does not quarrel with that sort of person, you know. And, poor old man, I believe he was dreadfully cut up at my going away when it came to the point, and would have given anything to keep me. But I said, 'No, Mr. Maxfield, that is impossible. I have made other arrangements; and, in short, I cannot be troubled any more about this matter. But to show that I bear no malice, and that I shall not withdraw my countenance from your daughter, I am willing to accept the trifles you press upon me.' He was a good deal touched by my taking the things; poor, foolish, misguided old man!"

"Well, it was real Christian of you, ma'am," said simple Mrs. Thimbleby.

The day of the party at Dr. Bodkin's arrived; and there was as intense an excitement connected with its advent as if it were to bring a county ball, or even a royal drawing-room. Whether a satin train, lappets and feathers, be intrinsically more important and worthy objects of anxiety than a white muslin frock and artificial roses, I do not presume to decide. Only I can unhesitatingly assert that the Misses Rose and Violet McDougall could not have given their female attendant more trouble about the preparation and putting on of the latter adornments—which formed their simple and elegant attire on this occasion—if they had been duchesses, and their gowns cloth of gold.

Miss Chubb, too, contemplated her new dress of a light blue colour, laid out upon her bed, with great interest and satisfaction. And when her toilet for the evening was completed, she had more little gummed rings of hair on her cheeks and forehead than had ever before been beheld there at one time.

The company began to assemble in Dr. Bodkin's drawing-rooms about half-past eight o'clock. There were all our old acquaintances—Mr. Smith, the surgeon, and his wife; Mr. and Mrs. Dockett, with Miss Alethea, now promoted to long dresses and "grown-up" young-ladyhood. There was Orlando Pawkins; Mr. Warlock, the curate; and Colonel Whistler, with his charming nieces. Miss Chubb had dined with the Bodkins in the middle of the day, and, after being of great assistance to the mistress of the house in the preparation of her supper-table, had returned to her own home to dress, and consequently arrived upon the festive scene rather later than would otherwise have been the case. But she was not the last guest to arrive. Mr. Diamond came in after her; and so did one or two families from the neighbourhood of Whitford. ("County people," Miss Chubb said in a loud whisper to Rose McDougall, who replied snappishly, "Of course! We know them very well. Have visited them for years.")

"This is a brilliant scene," said good-natured Miss Chubb, turning to Mr. Warlock, whom Fate had thrown into her neighbourhood. Mr. Warlock agreed with her that it was very brilliant; and, indeed, Dr. Bodkin's drawing-rooms, well lighted with wax candles, and with abundance of hot-house flowers tastefully arranged, and relieved against the rich crimson and oak furniture, were exceedingly cheerful, pleasant, and picturesque. There was an air of comfort and good taste about the rooms—a habitable, home-like air—not always to be found in more splendid dwellings.

On her crimson lounging-chair reclined Minnie Bodkin. Her dress was of heavy cream-white silk, with gold ornaments. She wore nothing in her abundant dark hair, and her pale face seemed to many who looked upon it that evening to be more lovely than ever. Her lips had a tinge of red in them, and her eyes were full of lustre. There was a suppressed excitement about her looks and manner, which lighted up her perfectly-moulded features with a strange beauty that struck all observers. Even the McDougalls could not but admit that Minnie looked very striking, but added that she was a little too theatrically got up, didn't you think so? That was poor Minnie's failing. All for effect! "And," added Rose, "she has a good foil in that little pink and white creature who sits in the corner beside her chair, and never moves. I suppose she is told to do it. But the idea of dressing that chit up in a violet silk gown fit for a married woman! And she has no figure to carry it off. I really think it rather a strong measure on the Bodkins' part to ask us all to meet a girl of such very low origin on equal terms. But there it is, you see! Poor dear Minnie delights in doing startling things, unlike other people. And, of course, her parents refuse her nothing."

Miss Rose's opinion of Rhoda Maxfield's insignificant appearance was not, however, shared by many persons present. Several young gentlemen, and more than one old gentleman, vied with each other in offering her cups of tea, and paying her various little attentions according to their opportunities. Even old Colonel Whistler, when he thought himself unobserved by his nieces, sidled up to pretty Rhoda Maxfield, and was heard to say to one of the "county" gentlemen, "She's the prettiest girl I've seen this many a day, by George! And I know a pretty girl when I see one, sir; or used to, once upon a time!"

To Rhoda, all the strangers who spoke and looked so kindly were merely troublesome. Her colour went and came, her heart beat with anxiety. She started nervously every time the door opened. She could think only of Algernon and Algernon's wife. She made a silent and very earnest prayer that she might be strengthened to sit still and quiet when they should appear, for she had had serious apprehensions lest she should be irresistibly impelled to start up and run away, as soon as she saw them.

It was in vain that young Mr. Pawkins hovered near her, inviting her to accept his arm into the tea-room; it was in vain that old Colonel Whistler softened his martinet voice to ask her, with paternal tenderness, how she had enjoyed her stay at the seaside, and to say that, if one might judge by her looks, she had derived great benefit from the change of air. In the words of the song, "All men else seemed to her like shadows." She was in a dream, with the consciousness of an impending awakening, which she half longed for, half dreaded.

Two persons watched over her, and covered the mistakes she made in her nervous trepidation. Matthew Diamond and Minnie Bodkin exerted themselves to shield her from importunate observation, and to give her time to recover her self-possession, if that might be possible. Diamond was in good spirits. He could wait, he could be patient, he could be silent now, with a good heart. Algernon's marriage had opened a bright vista of hope before him; and perhaps he had never felt so disposed to condone and excuse his old pupil's faults and failings as at the present moment. "Minnie is a good creature," he thought, with a momentary, grateful diversion of his attention from Rhoda, "to keep my timid birdie so carefully under her wing! She might do it with a little more softness of manner. But we cannot change people's natures."

Meanwhile Minnie reclined in her chair, watching his tender lingering looks at Rhoda, and his complete indifference to everyone else, with a heartache which might have excused even less "softness of manner" than Diamond thought she displayed towards the girl beside her.

At length a little commotion, and movement among the persons standing near the door, announced a new arrival. Rhoda felt sick, and grasped the back of Minnie's chair so hard that her little glove was split by the force of the pressure. But that horrible sensation passed away in a few seconds. And then, looking up with renewed powers of seeing and hearing, she perceived that Mrs. Errington had made her entrance alone, and was holding forth in her mellow voice to Dr. and Mrs. Bodkin, and a knot of other persons in the centre of the room.

Mrs. Errington was radiant. She nodded and smiled to one and another with an almost royal suavity and condescension. She was attired in a rich dove-coloured silk gown (Lord Seely's gift to her at her son's wedding), and wore rose-coloured ribbons in her lace cap, and looked altogether as handsome and happy a matron of her years as you would easily find in a long summer's day.

"I have sent back the carriage for them, dear Mrs. Bodkin," she was saying, when Rhoda gained self-possession enough to take account of her words. "Naughty Castalia was not ready. So I said, 'My dear children, I shall go on without you, and put in an appearance for one member of the family at least!' So here I am. And my boy and girl will be here directly. And how is dear Minnie?—How d'ye do, Colonel?—Good evening, Miss Chubb.—Ah, Alethea! Papa and mamma quite well?—Oh, there she is! How are you, my dear Minnie? But I need not ask, for I never saw you looking so well?"

By this time Mrs. Errington had arrived at Minnie's chair, and stooped to kiss her. Almost at the same moment she caught sight of Rhoda, who shrank back a little, flushed and trembling. Mrs. Errington thought she very well understood the cause of this, and thought to herself, "Poor child, she is ashamed of her father's behaviour!"

"What, my pretty Rhoda!" she said aloud. And, drawing the girl to her, kissed her warmly. "I'm very glad to see you again, child," continued Mrs. Errington; "I began to fancy we were not to meet any more. You must come and see me, and spend a long day. I suppose that won't be against the laws of the Medes and Persians, eh?"

The familiar voice, the familiar looks, the kind manner of her old friend, helped to put Rhoda at her ease. The fact, too, that Mrs. Errington had no suspicion of her feelings was calming. Mrs. Errington was not apt to suspect people of any feeling but gratification, when she was talking to them.

In the full glow of her satisfaction Mrs. Errington even condescended to be gracious to Matthew Diamond, who came forward to offer his congratulations. "Why, yes, Mr. Diamond," said the good lady, "it is indee............