Not long after there came invitations for himself, wife and Fanny to attend the bridal party, at the residence of Judge Fulton, on the evening of July 25.  Frank, who was also invited, had his own reason for not wishing his mother or sister to see Fanny until they met her at Judge Fulton’s.  Consequently he was not sorry when both ladies graciously informed him that Miss Middleton would not be invited by them to visit at their house.  “Of course,” said Mrs. Cameron, “we shall invite Kate and her husband, and shall be glad to see them.  If you choose, you can in your own name invite Fanny, but if she knows anything she will not come.”

Frank knew there was no possible danger of Fanny’s accepting an invitation, which came simply from himself, but he did not say so, and next day he started again for his Uncle Wilmot’s.  To his cousin Kate he imparted a knowledge of his mother’s and Gertrude’s feelings and also told of his own plans.  Kate readily fell in with them and when Frank returned to the city he was accompanied by Mr. Miller, Kate and Fanny, who took rooms at the Astor House.  As soon as Mrs. Cameron and Gertrude learned that Kate was in the city, they called upon her.  Fanny they of course did not see, neither did they mention her name.  Kate expected as much, but nevertheless felt vexed, and when they urged her to spend the remainder of her time with them, she replied, “I have a young friend from Kentucky with me, and unless you invite her too, I do not feel at liberty to accept your polite invitation.”

In answer to this, Gertrude muttered something about “not wishing to enlarge the circle of her acquaintance,” while Mrs. Cameron said nothing, and the two ladies soon swept haughtily out of the room.

“Never mind,” said Frank, to whom Kate related her adventure, “they will both sing another tune ere long,” and he was right too.

The 25th of July at last arrived.  Frank had informed Gertrude that she must look to her father for a beau that evening, as he should be otherwise engaged; so she was not surprised when her brother, long before sunset, left the house all equipped for the party.  She well knew where he was going and for whose society she was deserted.  One hour later found her seated in a large armchair before the mirror in her dressing room.

Gertrude was a tall, fine-looking girl, but in the expression of her handsome features there was something wanting.  She lacked soul, and no one ever looked on the cold, proud face of Gertrude Cameron, without being convinced that she was altogether heartless and selfish.

On this occasion, as she sat in the large armchair, she said to her waiting maid, “I say, Jane, you must do your best tonight to have me splendidly dressed.”

“Yes, ma’am, I understand,” said Jane, and she proceeded to bedeck her young mistress with all sorts of finery.  Her dress consisted of a rich, white satin, over which was thrown a skirt of handsomely embroidered lace.  All the ornaments of gold and diamonds for which a place could possibly be found were heaped upon her, and when her toilet was completed, she seemed one gorgeous mass of jewelry.