“Are you engaged for the next?” he interrupted brusquely.
As this happened to be a set of Lancers, she breathed a reluctant “No.”
“Oh, then I may have it?” he declared, confronting her with a bold and confident eye. As she yielded her card, he wrote himself down for this, as well as two others (which Letty had secretly been keeping for Lancelot Lumley). “H. Blagdon” was also marked before an extra; but a man with many thousands a year is granted a liberal margin. Mrs. Fenchurch was looking on; her eyes glittered, a real colour came into her thin cheeks. Supposing that he had taken a fancy to Letty? It would be too wonderful to think of! The most promising suitor she had allowed herself to expect, was some officer from a neighbouring depôt; but then, until that evening she had never fully understood the value of the treasure she had hidden at The Holt. Now, her ambition, determination, and energy, were stirred, and she was resolved that Letty should make a great match. Everyone knew that Hugo Blagdon ‘barred girls’: he never noticed them, never danced with them—indeed, he rarely danced at all—generally he sat in a remote corner with some notorious married woman—yet here he was, filling up the programme of her niece, and devouring her shy beauty with his hard, bold eyes.
Undoubtedly most people liked to look at Letty. Was there ever such a perfect little nose, such a short upper lip, delicately cut mouth, or sweeping black lashes?
Presently the Lancers struck up, and Blagdon, offering his arm, conducted his partner down the room, as it were in triumph; undoubtedly she was the star of the evening! As he passed along, he noticed that the eyes of everyone were fixed upon his companion. This was just the sort of girl that would suit him for a wife! a girl so remarkable, so absolutely perfect in appearance, that all the jealous world would stare at her open-mouthed.
Having invited an aristocratic vis-à-vis, they took their places in a set and danced. Blagdon found Miss Glyn shy—she had not much to say for herself. With difficulty he gathered that she didn’t hunt, had only lately left school, and was seventeen last birthday; but it was sufficiently agreeable for him to feel that she was the cynosure of all eyes, and that he was the envy of every man in the room!
Mrs. Flashman, who was in the same set, swam hither and thither in her gorgeous French gown, and now and then darted glances of sarcastic amusement at her friend Hugo and the little baby; and whispered en passant in the Grand Chain:
“Where is the bread and butter?”
The remainder of that evening was, from her aunt’s point of view, an uninterrupted triumph for Letty: a number of influential people had begged to make her acquaintance; envious and rancorous rivals—mothers of large families, had uttered spiteful things about Hugo Blagdon. He had taken her niece to supper, had only danced with her that night, and when not dancing, had posted himself where he could keep her in view—all of which signs and tokens even the most comatose chaperon could not fail to note! Oh, it was undoubtedly a case.
Had Letty enjoyed her first ball? She was not sure. She enjoyed dancing with Mr. Lumley and with various other young men; she enjoyed the band, and the ices, and loved dancing for dancing’s sake, but somehow there seemed to be between Mr. Lumley and Mr. Blagdon a sharp but secret conflict for her company. When she was swinging round in the arms of Mr. Lumley, she was aware that the other was watching them closely; and when it was Blagdon’s dance he stalked up and claimed her with an air of appropriation, that she found both disagreeable and disconcerting.