"All the people we invited are here, mamma," said Violet Earle, "all except Jaquelina Meredith. Do you think she will come?"

Laurel Hill, the beautiful home of the Earles, was in a blaze of light and gayety. The handsome, roomy mansion, with its wide and long piazzas and large bay windows, was lighted "from garret to basement," and thrown open to the guests. The beautiful green lawn, with its sprinkling of laurel trees that gave the place its name, was almost as light as day with the glitter of colored lamps and Chinese lanterns.

A pretty summer-house in the center of the lawn was decorated with garlands of cedar and fluttering silken banners. It was here that Violet was standing when she spoke to her mother.

She looked very sweet and winning as she stood there, the light shining down on the fair, flushed face, and on the golden ringlets looped back with sprays of lilies-of-the-valley nestling among dark green leaves.

She wore a soft, filmy white robe, and a wide sash of pale-blue satin was knotted carelessly around the slender waist. The pretty dimpled neck and arms were quite bare, and golden ornaments, studded with pearls and turquoise, gleamed upon their whiteness.

Mrs. Earle, looking very fair and graceful in silver-gray silk and pale, gleaming pearls, looked admiringly at her lovely daughter.

"No, I am afraid Jaquelina will not come," she said; "one of the neighbors was telling me just now that she was lost in the woods last night and thoroughly drenched by the rain, so it is just possible she may be ill. Had you not heard it, dear?"

"Yes; Mr. Brown told me," answered Violet. "And only think, mamma, she met the captain of the outlaws, and he guided her to the road. Was it not romantic? I should not have expected such courtesy from such a dreadful man."

"It was perfectly shameful for Mrs. Meredith to have sent her for the doctor at midnight," said Mrs. Earle, warmly. "They tell me there was no real necessity for such a thing. The child only had a common attack of croup, which any sensible mother would have known how to subdue with simple domestic remedies. Mr. Brown, their near neighbor, tells me it is playing about the floor, as well as usual, to-day."

"Poor Lina! That terrible man might have killed her," said pretty Violet, with a shudder.

"Look, Violet—who is that coming now?" said Mrs. Earle suddenly.

Violet looked hastily.

"Oh," she said, "it is Mr. Meredith—he is bringing her after all."

The farmer came up the steps, Jaquelina following in his wake, a veil tied about her head, a thin summer shawl wrapped about her shoulders.

"They told me I should find you here. I have brought my niece to the party, Mrs. Earle. She had a cold, but I couldn't persuade her to stay at home," he said. "I will go back, now, as wife and Dollie are alone, but if you'll tell me when the party will be over, I'll bring back the mare for Lina."

"You need not trouble about that," Mrs. Earle replied as he turned away. "I'll see that she gets back safely, Mr. Meredith."

Then she turned to Jaquelina, who stood beside Violet, gazing with timid delight at the illuminated lawn and the moving groups of people.

"You may lay aside your wraps, dear," she said, kindly. "I hope you will enjoy our little party."

"I know I shall," the girl answered, gazing around her with sparkling eyes. "Oh! Mrs. Earle, how beautiful it all is. It seems just like fairyland!"

Mrs. Earle smiled indulgently as she helped her to remove the plain shawl and veil that enveloped her; then she started back with a little cry of surprise that was faintly re-echoed by Violet.

Jaquelina's sensitive lips quivered; her dark eyes filled with quick tears.

"I was afraid the dress would not do," she said, falteringly. "I will put on my wraps and go home again, Mrs. Earle."

She was turning toward the steps, but Violet caught her arm.

"Oh, you little goose!" she said, laughing, "come back. Where did you get such a sweet dress?"

"Is it pretty? Will it do, indeed?" asked Jaquelina, radiant.

"It is lovely," Mrs. Earle said, kindly. "It makes you look extremely pretty, my dear."

"Pretty is faint praise, mother," said her handsome son, as he came up the steps, and overheard the words. "Miss Lina, how do you do? You have blossomed into a beauty since I last saw you."

His college-mate, who had come up the steps with him, peered over his shoulder at the "beauty."

He saw a shy, lovely face with dewy-crimson lips, and large, dark eyes with long, black lashes like fringed curtains—chestnut curls, tinged with gold, clustering about a low, broad brow and proudly-set head—a quaint, pretty dress of yellowish India muslin with lace and satin ribbons fluttering about it.

Nothing more quaintly sweet and pretty than the dress and its wearer could have been imagined.

Jaquelina gave her hand shyly a moment to Walter Earle, then he stepped aside to introduce her to his friend.

"Miss Meredith, allow me to present to you my friend, Ronald Valchester."

Jaquelina bowed to a tall, grave-looking man with dark hair thrown carelessly back from a high, white brow, and twilight-colored eyes—blue-gray in quiet moments, starry-black in moments of excitement.

He touched the girl's slim, brown hand lightly with his firm, white one, then stepped quietly aside a moment later, and allowed Walter Earle to lead her out upon the lawn.

"My friend is not what you would call a lady's-man," Walter said to her. "He is a dreamy student, quite absorbed in his books, and yet the best friend and the bravest that man ever had. He is very intellectual, and leads in everything at college. We are all proud of him there. Miss Meredith, you have read of men who stood head and shoulders above their fellows? Valchester is one of them. I could tell you a hundred delightful things that he has done if you——"

"Walter, I'll never forgive you if you say another word," said Valchester's voice behind them.

Walter turned and saw his friend walking after him with Violet clinging to his arm.

"Listeners never hear good of themselves," he retorted, to cover his embarrassment at being overheard.

"The old adage is falsified in this case," laughed Valchester, "and for fear of not coming up to the ideal you have raised in Miss Meredith's mind, I shall always tread on thorns in her presence."

Walter Earle laughed lightly at the careless metaphor.

"Then the path will be rose-strewn, too," he said, "for where there are thorns there are roses."

"Talking of roses," said Violet, "reminds me to ask you, Lina, where are the flowers I told you to wear? You forgot them."

"No, I did not," said the girl. "I must tell you the truth, Violet; I did not have the time to gather a single flower. I was late as it was; for you see Aunt Meredith needed me so long I could scarcely get away. But I thought perhaps you could spare me a flower."

"As many as you like," said Violet, generously. "What will you have? Here we are at the flower-beds. Make your own selection."

"I am afraid of the gardener," laughed Jaquelina, shrinking back from the trim and well-kept flower-beds. "I will take anything you choose to give me."

"Daisies would suit you," said Walter Earle, looking at the sweet, shy face.

"Scarlet geraniums or roses," said Violet, thinking how beautifully they would contrast with the dark eyes and the white dress.

Ronald Valchester studied the drooping face attentively, as the dark eyes gazed at the brilliant flowers, the dark, curling lashes shading the rose-flushed cheek.

"Passion-flowers, I think," he said, and gathered a cluster of the bright flowers from the trellis and offered them to her. She took them with a slight bow, and fastened them in her belt.

What had Ronald Valchester, the gifted, thoughtful student, read in the lovely, innocent face of the simple girl that had prompted him to offer her passion-flowers for her type?

Walter Earle looked surprised, but he set it down as one of Valchester's odd freaks, and told Jaquelina that the flowers were very becoming.

Violet said that roses would have looked prettier. Then she gathered some dewy violets and pinned them on his coat with pretty, careless coquetry.

"Lina, we are going to have a dance on the lawn," said the latter. "Do you like to dance?"

"No," said Jaquelina, and the fitful color came and went in her cheeks.

"Why not?" Violet said, surprised.

"Because I do not know how to dance," Jaquelina said, so timidly and naively that Walter Earle and Ronald Valchester laughed. Then Walter said, good-naturedly:

"Oh, that is nothing. You must dance with me. I will show you how to do the steps and the figures."

"You are sure I shall not appear awkward?" she asked, her sensitive pride on the alert.

"You could not be awkward if you tried ever so hard," said the gallant young collegiate, captivated by the artless shyness and prettiness of the little girl whom at first he had only meant to patronize.

So they danced together.

Jaquelina fell into it all so naturally and happily that no one felt inclined to laugh at her when now and then she made a misstep, or caused a whole quadrille to blunder.

She was so ashamed and penitent over her little mistakes that it was a pleasure to set her right and forgive her. We pardon so many errors in youth and beauty.

After awhile Ronald Valchester, dancing with Violet, said, carelessly:

"Your friend, Miss Meredith, is exceedingly pretty—is she not, Miss Earle?"

Violet looked across at Jaquelina, who was dancing with someone whom Walter had introduced to her—a handsome, manly young fellow, who seemed to admire his partner very much. She was startled at the radiant beauty that happiness had kindled in Jaquelina's changeful face.

"She is not always so pretty," Violet said, quickly; "it is the effect of the moonlight and lamplight! You should see her at home by daylight. She is tanned and sunburned, and terribly shabby. Would you believe she is wearing her dead mother's wedding-dress to-night?"

"I should not have thought it," he said. "It is a very nice dress, is it not?" and he looked more carefully at the girl who was dancing in her dead mother's wedding-dress with the passion-flowers half falling from the satin girdle that bound the slender waist—the girl who was so pretty and happy in the lamplight and moonlight, and so tanned and shabby by daylight.

"I have heard of 'gas-light beauties,' Miss Earle," he said carelessly. "I suppose Miss Meredith must belong to that class."

Violet felt uncomfortable, she could not have told why, for she had only spoken what she felt to be true.

"Yes," she answered, "I suppose so. I have known Lina Meredith all my life, or nearly, but I never thought her pretty until to-night. To-morrow we will call upon her at her own home. You may see for yourself how different she will appear."

"I shall be pleased to go—thank you," said Ronald Valchester. "Is Miss Meredith the only daughter?"

Violet looked at him surprised.

"Why, of course," she began, then stopped, and said deprecatingly: "I have, perhaps, done Lina an injustice in speaking of her as I have to you, Mr. Valchester. I thought you knew that she is an orphan. It isn't her fault that she must go shabby and neglected. She is poor, and has no one to love her."

Violet looked very pretty in the thoughtful student's eyes just then—much prettier than she had five minutes ago. As he clasped the little hand in the winding figures of the gay dance, he thought that the touch of womanly pity in her voice was very winning.

More than once he looked at the slender figure of Jaquelina, as it whirled past him lightly, with a new interest in his eyes. She had been simply a pretty, interesting girl to him before, in whose radiant face he had vaguely read something that prompted him to give her the passion-flowers.

Now the vibrating chord of sympathy in his nature had been touched by those simple words: "She has no one to love her."

When that dance was over and Violet had been claimed by another partner, he went up to Jaquelina.

"You have not danced with me yet," he said. "Will you give me the next dance, Miss Meredith?"

"You must excuse me, Mr. Valchester," she replied, with a smile, "I have promised the next dance to your friend, Mr. Earle."