"Do you believe him?" said the Captain, walking away.
"Now we are all prepared," said the Earl; "do you know the new dance—the waltz?"
"Si, signore."
Seating himself on the mossy stone, he commenced tuning his instrument, and first played a wild Italian air, in which fire and melancholy were strangely mingled. The applause of the company seemed to reinspirit him, and, dashing away a tear from his eye, he struck up the waltz measure.
The Earl, taking Ellen's hand, stepped forth and led the dance; then, each selecting his partner, the rest followed—all save two, the Captain and L'Estrange, who stood beneath the darkening shadow of the fir-trees, and looked on; the former with a scornful smile, as if he despised all who joined in the dance; the latter with a sad expression of countenance, as if he would too willingly have mingled in the happy throng, could he have danced with the lady of his love.
"I'll bet my best hunter against your riding whip," said the Captain, "that the deed is done."
"What deed is done?"
"Fool! what could it be but one? to be plain, I'll stake my existence my brother has proposed for Ellen's hand—and what is more, I will stake my life she has accepted him," he observed, as the two lovers waltzed past.
"What should make you suppose so?" said the other, turning very pale.
"Her looks, idiot, her looks; I can read faces well! I was a fool not to see through the Earl's subtilty before. This picnic forsooth! a mere excuse for getting her away to do so—by Heaven! a cunning dodge—but I am a sleuth-hound that can track him out!"