She struggled hard against the temptation, and sat motionless, all her heart going out toward him.
If she had known that Jack, even at that moment, was thinking of her, and recalling her every look and word. It was one of Strauss’ waltzes they were playing, but he heard it not; in his ears was the rustle of the forest trees and the ripple of the lake; before him was one of the most beautiful ball-rooms in London, before him moved, in a glittering pageant, the pick of London’s beauty and rank, but he saw them not; he was looking in fancy into the lovely face of the innocent forest girl.
The dance was over, but still Lady Bell did not come; couples, arm-in-arm, promenaded past him, but still Jack sat, and dreaming of the girl who sat longing, longing for a word or look from him, just behind him. Suddenly Una felt something drop into her lap. It was a blossom from one of the tropical plants.
She took it up and looked at it absently; then, as if by a sudden inspiration, she raised it to her lips and kissed it, and rising, dropped it on his knee and fled.
Jack started, and stooping picked up the flower, looked at it for a moment, and then turned and looked up to see whence it had come.
As he did so he saw reflected dimly in a mirror framed in palm leaves a girl’s face.
With a bound he darted to his feet, and naturally enough made for the reflection; but ere he could reach the mirror the face had vanished.
Pale and trembling with eagerness he turned—but Una had glided through the ferns and reached the ante-room—and came face to face with Lady Bell.
She was flushed and laughing, her eyes dancing with the excitement of the dance.
“Well,” she said, “where is my ice?”