But prosperity did not spoil Melinda, and James Markham’s chances were quite as good when, dressed in pink silk, with camelias in her hair, she entertained some half-dozen judges and M.C.’s as when in brown delaine and magenta ribbons she danced a quadrille at some “quilting bee out West.”  She saw the difference, however, between men of cultivation and those who had none, and began to understand the cause of Ethelyn’s cold, proud looks when surrounded by Richard’s family.  She began also silently to watch and criticise Richard, comparing him with other men of equal brain, and thinking how, if she were his wife, she would go to work to correct his manners.  Possibly, too, thoughts of James, in his blue frock and cowhide boots, occasionally intruded themselves upon her mind; but if so, they did not greatly disturb her equanimity, for, let what might happen, Melinda felt herself equal to the emergency—­whether it were to put down Frank Van Buren and the whole race of impudent puppies like him, or polish rough James Markham if need be.  How she hated Frank Van Buren when she saw his neglect of his young wife, whose money was all he seemed to care for; and how utterly she loathed and despised him after the night, when, at a party given by one of Washington’s magnates, he stood beside her for half an hour and talked confidently to her of Ethelyn, whom, he hinted, he could have married if he would.

“Why didn’t you, then?” and Melinda turned sharply upon him, with a look in her black eyes which made him wince as he replied:  “Family interference—­must have money, you know!  But, zounds! don’t I pity her!—­tied to that clown, whom—­”

Frank did not finish the sentence, for Melinda’s eyes fairly blazed with anger as she cut him short with “Excuse me, Mr. Van Buren; I can’t listen to such abuse of one whom I esteem as highly as I do Judge Markham.  Why, sir, he is head and shoulders above you, in sense and intellect and everything which makes a man,” and with a haughty bow, Melinda swept away, leaving the shamefaced Frank alone in his discomfiture.

“I’d like to kick myself if I could, though I told nothing but the truth.  Ethie did want me confoundedly, and I would have married her if she hadn’t been poor as a church mouse,” Frank muttered to himself, standing in the deep recess of the window, and all unconscious that just outside upon the balcony was a silent, motionless form, which had heard every word of his conversation with Melinda, and his soliloquy afterward.

Richard Markham had come to this party just to please Melinda, but he did not enjoy it.  If Ethie had been there he might; but he could not forget the blank that day received, or the letter from James, which said that Ethelyn was not looking as well as usual, and had the morning previously asked him to turn back before they had ridden more than two miles.  He could not be happy with that upon his mind, and so he stole from the gay scene out upon the balcony, where he stood watching the quiet stars and thinking of Ethelyn, when his ear had caught by the mention of her name.