"No, but I don't want to be left; it is so lonesome up here."
"But don't you know I promised to send Félicie up; and do I ever break my promises?"
"I don't want Félicie to come; she's cross," said the child.
"Well, then, Frances shall come; will she do?"
"Frances is busy, and you'll forget all about me when you get down there among the people."
"No, I won't, my darling," I said, stooping down, as she put her arms around my neck. "I will send Frances, and come up and see you in a little while myself. Be a good child, and go get in bed. Good night."
She laid her burning little cheek against mine for a moment; then submissively went in, and I turned to go downstairs. As I rose from my stooping attitude, I looked in at the nursery door, which, in my hurry, I had forgotten was the gentlemen's dressing-room; and that, as well as the hall, was strongly lighted. Two gentlemen, just within the door, had been witnesses of the scene of distress just enacted, and apparently not inattentive ones either. They were evidently strangers to each other, and one was so to me; I never remembered to have seen him before. The other was Mr. Rutledge.
He held out his hand with a smile, as I started back in confusion on seeing them. I gave him mine with a desperate blush, and saying, hurriedly, that I must go down for Frances, without giving him time for another word, I ran down the stairs, and into the second hall, whence, picking my way as daintily as I could, I threaded the narrowness and darkness of the private staircase, that led to the butler's pantry. There I found, as I had expected, an eager group of domestics gazing in through the windows into the parlors, watching the dancing with an interest only second to that of the dancers themselves. I singled out Frances from the group, and calling her to me, told her my errand, and she, with a submissive sigh for the lost festivities, followed me upstairs. I saw her safely at the door of Essie's room, then, turning, began to descend, this time more slowly, and to think seriously of the alarming matter of my entrée. As I neared the parlors, the music, the odor of the flowers, the brilliant lights, the gay dresses, all crowded intoxicatingly upon my brain.
"I only knew 'twas fair and sweet,
'Twas wandering on enchanted ground,
With dizzy brow and tottering feet."
It was not a ball-room, it was the fairy-land, the magic, the romance, of which I had dreamed; what adventures lay within it for me; what untold delirious joy should I experience when I had crossed the threshold. And how should I cross it? Alone and timid, how could I stem that flashing, glittering crowd? And, among them all, whose protection should I seek, to whose side should I make my way? There was no time for hesitation; I was at the door; the gentleman whom I had seen upstairs, stood aside to let me pass; two or three ladies made way for me, and in a moment more I found myself at my aunt's side.