There were reasons why the invitation was a difficult one to decline.  Mrs. Virginia Witherspoon was the daughter of a Confederate general whose name you read in every history-book; and she had a famous old home in the country which was falling about her ears—­her husband being seldom sober enough to know what was happening.  She had also three blossoming daughters, whom she must manage to get out of the home before the plastering of the drawing-room fell upon the heads of their suitors; so that the ardour of her husband-hunting was one of the jokes of the State.  Naturally, under such circumstances, the Witherspoons had to be treated with consideration by the Castlemans.  One might snub rich Yankees, and chasten the suddenly-prosperous; but a family with an ancient house in ruins, and with faded uniforms and battle-scarred sabres in the cedar-chests in its attic—­such a family can with difficulty overdraw its social bank account.

Dolly Witherspoon, the oldest daughter, had been Sylvia’s rival for the palm as the most beautiful girl in Castleman County.  And Sylvia had triumphed, and Dolly had failed.  So, in her secret heart she hated Sylvia, and the mother hated her; and yet—­such was the social game—­they had to invite Sylvia and her sister to their card-parties, and Sylvia and her sister had to go.  They had to go and be the most striking figures there:  Celeste, slim and pale from sorrow, virginal, in clinging white chiffon; and Sylvia, regal and splendid, shimmering like a mermaid in a gown of emerald green.

The mermaid imagined that she noticed a slight agitation underneath the cordiality of her hostess.  The next person to greet her was Mrs. Armistead; and Sylvia was sure that she did not imagine the suppressed excitement in that lady’s manner.  But even while she was speculating and suspecting, she was led toward the drawing-room.  It was late, her hostess explained; the other guests were waiting, so if they did not mind, the play would start at once.  Celeste was to sit at that table over there, with Mr. Witherspoon’s crippled brother, and old Mr. Perkins, who was deaf; and Sylvia was to come this way—­the table in the corner.  Sylvia moved toward it, and Dolly Witherspoon and her sister, Emma, greeted her cordially, and then stepped out of the way to let her to her seat; and Sylvia gave one glance—­and found herself face to face with Frank Shirley!

22.  Frank’s face was scarlet; and Sylvia had a moment of blind terror, when she wanted to turn and fly.  But there about her was the circle of her enemies; a whole roomful of people, breathless with curiosity, drinking in with eyes and ears every hint of distress that she might give.  And the next morning the whole town would, in imagination, attend the scene!

“Good-evening, Julia,” said Sylvia, to Mrs. Witherspoon’s youngest daughter, the other lady at the table.  “Good-evening, Malcolm”—­to Malcolm McCallum, an old “beau” of hers.  And then, taking the seat which Malcolm sprang to move out for her, “How do you do, Frank?”