He quivered at the sound of the name.
"Pleasant!" he exclaimed; and then recovering himself partly—"I think it is pleasant.... They are forming quadrilles. Shall we dance, Miss Pendarrel?"
"If you please," answered Mildred, partly puzzled and partly provoked. "Mr. Melcomb," she added to that gentleman, as he passed with a lady, "you will be my vis-à-vis."
Melcomb bowed, looked at Mildred's partner, and raised his eyebrows slightly. Randolph recollected the man he had seen at the opera, disliked what he fancied was a singular familiarity, and wondered what was the coxcomb's position in the family. As he warmed in the dance, however, his moodiness and taciturnity gave way. He flung himself into the humour of the moment, retrieved his character with his partner, and obtained another engagement. "Let destiny decide," he said to himself.
Melcomb was Mildred's partner in the next set.
"Who is your unknown knight?" he asked.
"My partner!" said the lady. "A friend of Mr. Rereworth's."
"He is in love with you," remarked the coxcomb.
"I hope he is," Mildred laughed.
"Cruel! He will languish and die."