If Reginald Trevor suffered the pangs of an unrequited love, Vaga Powell was in a very torment of jealousy. For the air and attitude of the other two seemed to speak of something more than the mere indifference of dancing partners. The Creole had hold of his arm, was hanging upon it, her eyes upturned to his face with a languishing, loving smile, which he appeared to reciprocate.
Rather a pleasing sight to Reginald, for reasons that just then presented themselves. But a painful one to her with whom he was conversing—torture itself.
All at once a thought occurred to her, which promised something, if not relief. Anyhow, it gave this and more to Reginald Trevor. For of the many seeking her hand for the dance, he was the one preferred, and with an alacrity that somewhat surprised, while delighting him.
His delight would have been less could he have fathomed her motive and design. Little dreamt he of either, or that he was about to be utilised solely as a pawn for playing the game of piques.
Chapter Thirty Two.
A Contradanza.
It was a contredanse; the “contradanza” of Spain transmitted through France to England, where it had become naturalised, and by a misapprehension of terms called “country dance” It was the pièce de resistance of the time, before the introduction of the cotillon, quadrille, and other “square” dances.
The assemblage being a large one, several sets danced at the same time, inside the house and without, the music in a central position availing for all.