though the meaning of what I said did not reach her thought. She looked past me; I followed her eyes with mine, and saw her youngest boy, not yet eighteen, with a glass of champagne to his lips. He was drinking with a too apparent sense of enjoyment. The sigh that passed the mother's lips smote my ears with accusation. "Mrs. Carleton!" A frank, cheery voice dropped into my ear. It was that of Albert Martindale, the son of my friend. He was handsome, and had a free, winning manner. I saw by the flush in his cheeks, and the gleam in his eyes, that wine had already quickened the flow of blood in his veins.
"You are enjoying yourself," I said.
"Oh, splendidly!" then bending to my ear, he added.--"You've given the finest entertainment of the season."
"Hush!" I whispered, raising my finger. Then added, in a warning tone--"Enjoy it in moderation, Albert."
His brows knit slightly. The crowd parted us, and we did not meet again during the evening.
By twelve o'clock, most of the ladie