This might make it in some way excusable. He had since seen the girls only with their maternal guardian—a dame of severe aspect. Had the secret to be kept from her! And was this the reason why they were preserving distance?
It was probable. He had some pleasure in thinking so; but more, when once or twice, he detected Julia’s dark eyes strangely gazing upon him, and instantly withdrawn, as his became turned upon her.
“The play’s the thing, wherewith to touch the conscience of the king,” Hamlet declared.
The ball! It promised a clearing up of this little mystery, with perhaps some others. He would be sure to meet them there—mother, daughter, niece—all three! It would be strange if he could not introduce himself; but if not, he must trust to the stewards.
And to the ball he went; dressed with as much taste as the laws of fashion would allow—in those days liberal enough to permit of a white waistcoat.
With only an occasional interval—transient as the scintillation of a meteor—it has been black ever since!
The ball-room was declared open.
Carriages were setting down by the piazza of the Ocean House, and silks rustling along the corridors of that most select of caravanserais.
From the grand dining-saloon, cleared for the occasion (and when cleared, making a dancing-room worthy of Terpsichore herself), came those not very harmonious sounds that tell of the tuning of fiddles, and clearing out the throats of trombones.
The Girdwood party entered with considerable éclat—the mother dressed like a grand-duchess, though without her diamonds. These blazed upon the brow of Julia, and sparkled on her snow white bosom—for the set comprised a necklace with pendants.