"I did not know that you were coming to-night, Mr. Lisle."
"Neither did I, till quite late in the afternoon. I suppose there is not the slightest use in my asking for a dance?"
Now if the young lady had been an experienced campaigner, and had wished to dance with the gentleman (which she did), she would have artlessly replied,—
"Oh, yes! I think I can give you number so and so," mentally throwing over some less popular partner; but Helen looked straight into his face with grave, truthful eyes, displayed a crowded programme, and shook her head.
Jim Quentin, who was evidently impatient at this delay, placed his arm round his partner's waist, and danced her away to the melting strains of the old "Kate Kearney" waltz.
None gave themselves more thoroughly up to the pleasures of the moment, or with more abandon than Dr. Malone and Mrs. Creery. They floated round and round, and to and fro, with cork-like buoyancy, for Mrs. Creery, though elderly and stout, was light of foot, and a capital dancer; and her partner whirled her hither and thither like a big red feather! Every one danced, and the seventeen revolving couples made quite a respectable appearance in the narrow room. And what a sight to behold the twenty-eight partnerless men, languishing in doorways, and clamouring for halves and quarters of dances! Men who, from the wicked perversity of their nature, were they as one man to ten girls, would certainly decline to dance at all! Mr. Lisle had abandoned his station at last, and waltzed repeatedly with Mrs. Durand; they seemed to know each other intimately, and were by far the best waltzers in the room. There was a finish and ease about their performance that spoke of balls in the Great Babylon, and though others might pause for breath, and pant, and puff, these two, like the brook, seemed to "go on for ever!"
They also put a very liberal interpretation upon the term "sitting out!" They walked up the hill in the moonlight, and surveyed the view—undoubtedly other dancers did the same—but not always with the same companion; to be brief, people were beginning to talk of the "marked" attention that Mr. Lisle was paying Mrs. Durand—attentions not lost on Helen, who noticed them, as it were, against her will, and tried to keep down a storm of angry thoughts in her heart by asking herself, as she paced the verandah with Dr. Parkes, and dropped haphazard sentences, "Was it possible that she was jealous, bitterly jealous, because Mr. Lisle spoke to another woman?—Mr. Lisle, who avoided her; Mr. Lisle, who had a history; Mr. Lisle, who was going away?"
She held her head rather higher than usual, pressed her lips very firmly together, and told herself, "No, she had not yet fallen quite so low. Mr. Lisle and his friends were nothing to her."
Supper was served early. Mrs. Creery was the hostess, and we know that she had "Nip" in her mind, when she suggested that at twelve o'clock they should adjourn for refreshment, and sailed in at the head of the procession on the General's arm. "Nip," who had been the first to enter the supper-room, sat close to his doating mistress, devouring tit-bits of cold roast peacock, and pâté de foie gras, with evident relish; this was a part of the entertainment that he could comprehend. His mistress was also pleased with the refection, and condescended to pass a handsome encomium upon the mess-cook, and priced several of the dishes set before her (with an eye to future entertainments of her own). She was in capital spirits, and imparted to Dr. Malone, who sat upon her left, that she had never seen a better ball in Ross in all her experience; also, amongst many other remarks, that Miss Caggett's dress was like a dancer's.