He crushed the furtive hope that had stirred his heart for an instant that it might be Hildegarde, and answered, boldly:
"I prayed the fates to lead me to the feet of beauteous Ida May! Oh, tell me—am I right? Do be kind, and tell me."
"Then the fates have answered your prayer," she replied. "I suppose I ought not to tell you until unmasking time, but really I can not help it. I am Ida May."
"Thanks, ten thousand thanks for ending my suspense, dear girl," he murmured, as only Royal Ainsley could utter the words. A few sweeps around the rink, where handsome Romeo, with his superb fancy riding, was the cynosure of all eager feminine eyes, midst murmurs of admiration, then he whispered to his companion: "Come into the conservatory; the air is too close here. You are riding as though you were dizzy. Are you?"
"Yes," she answered. "I must have air. I——"
The wheel suddenly wobbled recklessly from side to side, as though its rider had lost control of it entirely.
Royal Ainsley sprung from his wheel just in time to prevent her from falling, and in that instant he crushed her closely to his heart, then as quickly released her.
The excitement was so great, no one noticed this little by-play, or saw Romeo lead the fair wood-nymph from amid the glittering lights to the shadowy depths of the cool conservatory. Standing their wheels against a marble Flora, he found a rustic bench on which he placed her, taking a seat beside her, dangerously near, his hand closing over the fluttering little white one, his handsome head, with its fair, clustering hair, bent near her own. A half hour they spent amid the dim, cool shadows, the perfume of the roses enfolding them, the soft, low, bewildering echo of the delicious music floating out to them.
Remember, the young girl was only seventeen, dear reader, otherwise the place, and the scene, and the fair, handsome lover by her side could not have infatuated her so quickly or so deeply.