Lippa nods, and her partner, an aged baronet, claims her and they go through the intricacies of the lancers. Almost before the next dance has begun, Harkness appears; he dances beautifully and knows it too, but it is not long before he suggests a saunter in the garden.
Philippa consents, and forth they go into the cool night air. A hundred tiny lamps have been placed among the bushes, which shed a subdued light over the scene; charming corners have been arranged to sit in, while the splashing of the fountains mingles with the laughter and conversation of the company.
'What an interminable dance,' thinks Philippa, as having walked a good way round the garden, she finds herself once more outside the ball-room, and the same tune is still being played. She heaves a sigh of despair and raising her eyes meets those of Dalrymple, who is propping himself against a pillar. There is a look of reproach in them, and Lippa, though her conscience tells her she was unkind to him, feels an insane desire to make him jealous, and turns with an adorable smile to Harkness, not having heard a word of what he has just been saying; but he, thinking he has everything in his grasp, smiles, and leads her almost before she is aware, to a secluded corner.
'I—er I have been meaning to say something to you all this evening,' he begins, standing before her with his arms folded.
'Indeed,' replies Miss Seaton lightly, 'it can't be anything of great importance, or you would have said it before.'
'Not important,' this with a little more energy, 'why it is of vital importance; on it hangs the whole fate of my existence, Miss Seaton,' bending towards her, 'er—er Philippa, do you not know, have you not guessed that I love you, that to see you is necessary to my happiness, the first time I saw you—hear me,' as she makes as if to speak, 'you must know it, do you not see it in my eyes?' he is growing melodramatic and Lippa feels inclined to laugh, 'but one word, you love me, do you not, ah!' and he is about to seize her hand when she steps back from him saying,—
'I am afraid, Captain Harkness, you have made a mistake.'
'Mistake,' he replies, 'do you mean that you will not marry me.'
'Yes, I mean that I will not marry you.'
'Not marry me,' it is getting monotonous this repeating of her words, and she makes a movement of impatience, then all of a sudden his expression changes, 'I am afraid I put the question too soon,' he says, coming a little closer and taking hold of her hand, 'but do you love another?'