As I moved about afterwards with my wife we heard not many comments, a word here and there about Henderson’s wonderful success, a remark about Margaret’s beauty, some sympathy for her in such a wearisome ordeal—­the world is full of kindness—­the house duly admired, and the ordinary compliments paid; the people assembled were, as usual, absorbed in their own affairs.  From all we could gather, all those present were used to living in a palace, and took all the splendor quite as a matter of course.  Was there no envy?  Was there nothing said about the airs of a country school-ma’am, the aplomb of an adventurer?  Were there no criticisms afterwards as the guests rolled home in their carriages, surfeited and exhausted?  What would you have?  Do you expect the millennium to begin in New York?

The newspapers said that it was the most brilliant affair the metropolis had ever seen.  I have no doubt it was.  And I do not judge, either, by the newspaper estimates of the expense.  I take the simple words addressed by the earl to Margaret, when he said good-night, at their full value.  She flushed with pleasure at his modest commendation.  Perhaps it was to her the seal of her night’s triumph.

The house was opened.  The world had seen it.  The world had gone.  If sleep did not come that night to her tired head on the pillow, what wonder?  She had a position in the great world.  In imagination it opened wider and wider.  Could not the infinite possibilities of it fill the hunger of any soul?

The echoes of the Henderson reception continued long in the country press.  Items multiplied as to the cost.  It was said that the sum expended in flowers alone, which withered in a night, would have endowed a ward in a charity hospital.  Some wag said that the price of the supper would have changed the result of the Presidential election.  Views of the mansion were given in the illustrated papers, and portraits of Mr. and Mrs. Henderson.  In country villages, in remote farmhouses, this great social event was talked of, Henderson’s wealth was the subject of conjecture, Margaret’s toilet was an object of interest.  It was a shining example of success.  Preachers, whose sensational sermons are as widely read as descriptions of great crimes, moralized on Henderson’s career and Henderson’s palace, and raised up everywhere an envied image of worldly prosperity.  When he first arrived in New York, with only fifty cents in his pocket—­so the story ran-and walked up Broadway and Fifth Avenue, he had nearly been run over at the corner of Twenty-sixth Street by a carriage, the occupants of which, a lady and gentleman, had stared insolently at the country youth.  Never mind, said the lad to himself, the day will come when you will cringe to me.  And the day did come when the gentleman begged Henderson to spare him in Wall Street, and his wife intrigued for an invitation to Mrs. Henderson’s ball.  The reader knows there is not a word of truth in this.