The little parlor resounded with animated talk, laughter, and music, that was at the same time as refined as informal.  Mrs. Vosburgh would seat herself at the piano, that a new dancing-step or a new song might be tried.  The gentlemen were at liberty to light their cigars and form groups among themselves, so free from stiffness was Marian’s little salon.  Brief time elapsed, however, without a word to each, in her merry, girlish voice, for she had the instincts of a successful hostess, and a good-natured sense of honor, which made her feel that each guest was entitled to attention.  She was not much given to satire, and the young men soon learned that she would say more briery things to their faces than behind their backs.  It was also discovered that ill-natured remarks about callers who had just departed were not tolerated,—­that within certain limits she was loyal to her friends, and that, she was too high-minded to speak unhandsomely of one whom she had just greeted cordially.  If she did not like a man she speedily froze him out of the ranks of her acquaintance; but for such action there was not often occasion, since she and her mother had a broad, easy tolerance of those generally accepted by society.  Even such as left her parlor finally with wounds for which there was no rapid healing knew that no one would resent a jest at their expense more promptly than the girl whom they might justly blame for having smiled too kindly.

Thus she remained a general favorite.  It was recognized that she had a certain kind of loyalty which could be depended upon.  Of course such a girl would eventually marry, and with natural hope and egotism each one felt that he might be the successful competitor.  At any rate, as in war, they must take their chances, and it seems that there is never a lack of those willing to assume such risks.

Thus far, however, Marian had no inclination to give up her present life of variety and excitement.  She preferred incense from many worshippers to the devotion of one.  The secret of this was perhaps that her heart had remained so untouched and unconscious that she scarcely knew she had one.  She understood the widower’s preference, enjoyed the compliment, and should there be occasion would, in perfect good taste, beg to be excused.

Her pulse was a little quickened by Mr. Lane’s downright earnestness, and when matters should come to a crisis she would say lovely things to him of her esteem, respect, regret, etc.  She would wish they might remain friends—­why could they not, when she liked him so much?  As for love and engagement, she did not, could not, think of that yet.

She was skilful, too, in deferring such crises, and to-night, in obedience to a signal, Mrs. Vosburgh remained until even Mr. Lane despaired of another word in private, and departed, fearing to put his fate to the test.

At last the dainty apartment, the merry campaigning-ground, was darkened, and Marian, flushed, wearied, and complacent, stepped out on the piazza to breathe for a few moments the cool, fragrant air.  She had dropped into a rustic seat, and was thinking over the events of the evening with an amused smile, when the following startling words arose from the adjacent shrubbery:—­