'I have just learned your engagement to Orange.'
'That is an old story,' he said, getting red; 'I thought you were admitted into the plot six months ago.'
'I did not know it till this minute.'
'There is the music striking up. Will you take my arm?'
'I must decline. I shall not dance this quadrille. See, Orange is without a partner.'
She rose, and to avoid saying more walked into the hall, and thence, through the front door, upon the terrace. The moon was shining, and the air without was cool. In the ball-room the atmosphere had become oppressive.
'Would you kindly open the window?' asked Orange, turning to Herring, and casting him a smile. She was standing up for the quadrille with her Captain. The young man at once went to the window and threw it open.
The night was still without. A few curd-like clouds hung in the sky; the leaves of the trees, wet with dew, were glistening in the moonlight like silver. Far away in the extensive landscape a few stars twinkled out of dark wooded background, the lights from distant villages.
There was a vacant settee in the window, and Herring sat on it, leaning on his arm, and looking out.
Poor Mirelle! What could be done for her? Her position was intolerable. The only escape that he could devise was for her to return to West Wyke. But was it likely that Mr. Trampleasure would consent to this? And in the next place, would Cicely Battishill care to receive her?