'It was a mistake of his at Merlwood thinking that he loved me,' Hester would ponder on the other hand; 'and he did not know then—still less did I—that it was a mistake; but I know it now! The only thing left for me is to school myself, if I can, to love him as a friend or sister, a cousin merely. But it is hard—hard after all; and for such an artificial girl as Annot!'
Maude's carpet-dance—for the idea was hers—proved a great success, and many were present to whom, as they have no place in our story, we need not refer; but the music was excellent, and from an arched and partially curtained recess of the Red Drawing-room it swelled along the lofty ceilings and through the stately apartment, on the floor of which the dancers glided away to their hearts' content.
Mr. Hawkey Sharpe, bold and unabashed, was there attired de rigueur in evening costume; but even he did not venture on asking Maude to favour him with one dance; yet he ground his sharp teeth from time to time as he watched her and Captain Elliot, and overheard some—but only some of his remarks to her, though Hawkey had the ears of a fox.
'Maudie, darling, I am afraid you are tired,' said Jack tenderly, pausing for a moment.
'Already? Not at all, Jack; I would go on for ever,' exclaimed the girl, and they swept away again.
To her how delightful it was, waltzing with him—his hand pressed lightly on her willowy waist, her fingers, gloved and soft and slender, just resting on his shoulder; a faint perfume of her silky hair, a drowsy languor in every movement and in the whole situation.
'After we are married, Maudie,' whispered Jack, 'I am sure I shall disapprove of waltzing.'
'Disapprove—why?'
'Because I shall hate to see you whirling away with another.'
'Don't be a goose, Jack.'