The entrance of a British cruiser into the harbor of St. Kitts was always followed by a ball at Government House in the little capital of Basse Terre. To-night there was a squadron of three at anchor; therefore was the entertainment offered by the island’s President even more tempting³ than common, and hospitality had been extended to the officials and distinguished⁴ families of the neighboring islands, Nevis, Antigua, and Monserrat. On Nevis there remained but one family of eminence⁵, that great rock having been shorn long since of all but its imperishable beauty.

But Mrs. Edis of “Great House,” an old stone mansion⁶ unaffected by time, earthquake, or hurricane, and surrounded by a remnant of one of the oldest estates in the West Indies, was still a personage in spite of her fallen fortunes, and to-night she contributed a young daughter. The introduction of Julia Edis to society had been expected all winter as she was several months past eighteen, and the President had offered her a birthday fête; but Mrs. Edis, with whom no man was so hardy⁸ as to argue, had replied that her daughter should enter “the world” at the auspicious⁹ moment and not before. This was taken to mean one of two things: either that in good time a squadron would arrive with potential husbands, or (but this, of course, was mere¹⁰ frivolous¹¹ gossip) when the planets proclaimed the hour of destiny. For more than thirty years Mrs. Edis had been suspected of dabbling¹² in the black arts, incited¹³ originally by an old creole from Martinique, grandson of the woman who so

分享到：