It was Christmas eve, and the parlors of No. 46 Shelby Street were ablaze with light; rare flowers, in vases rarer still, filled the rooms with a sweet perfume, bringing back, as it were, the summer glory which had faded in the autumn light, and died in the chill December’s breath. Costly pictures adorned the walls; carpets, which seemed to the eye like a mossy bed inlaid with roses, covered the floors, while over all, the gas-light fell, making a scene of brilliant beauty such as was seldom witnessed in the quiet city of ——, where our story opens. It was the night of Alice Warren’s first presentation to society, as a young lady, and in her luxurious dressing-room she stood before her mirro…
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