'Who is that swivel-eyed fellow that hangs about her?'
'Her intended, people say—don't like the fellow; he once played me a fishy trick about a horse.'
'I have certainly seen a face like that girl's before,' resumed the Lancer, eyeing Mary through his glass.
'Perhaps—but you haven't seen many like it,' said Dick Freeport. 'I am lucky enough to have booked her for two waltzes.'
'Great success, this regimental hop of yours!'
Amid the painful doubts of his own position, his hopes and his fears, Cecil saw with pleasure how radiantly happy his friend Fotheringhame and Annabelle Erroll were enjoying the ball and their own society to the fullest extent; and sooth to say, though Blanche Gordon, the girl who had 'thrown him over,' was present, and looking very queenly in her costume and her loveliness, he seemed to have eyes only for Annabelle; and as his arm encircled her there was a depth of emotion in her tender blue eyes when their gaze met his, that called up many a loving thought, and, though they were silent, led both to remember the scenes of their past, upon the shining river, when the boat glided under the silver birches and the water-lilies floated by her side—scenes to be visited together, as they hoped, again.
But, as, if there could be no perfect brightness without a shadow, no perfect happiness without some alloy, it chanced that when seated together in the vestibule, for coolness, there occurred an event which—though Annabelle thought little, perhaps, of it then—she had bitter cause to remember afterwards.
A lady, closely veiled, passed quickly near them, after descending from the gallery usually occupied by servants and privileged spectators.
She dropped a card-case or purse, and Fotheringhame hastened to restore it to her, on which with a low voice, she thanked him by name, involuntarily as it would seem.
'Why are you here to-night?' he asked severely.