LITMIR.BIZ

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came in.

      Through these the Girdwoods had to run the gauntlet—as they made their way to the upper end of the room.

      They did so with success, though not without being aware of some supercilious glances, accompanied by whispered words that, if heard, might have somewhat disconcerted them.

      It was the second Newport ball—“hops” count for nothing—at which Mrs Girdwood and her girls had shown themselves.

      The first had not given great satisfaction—more especially to Julia.

      But there was a better prospect now. Mrs Girdwood had entered, with a confidence based on the conversation she had just held with the distinguished incognito, Mr Swinton.

      She had seen this gentleman during the day: for, as already known, he had not shut himself up in his room. She was sufficiently discerning to see that he was possessed of a fine face and figure. His hair, too—of the most aristocratic kind! How could it be otherwise? She alone knew the reason—she and her daughter; to whom she had, of course, communicated the secret of her discovery. A bit of broken promise that need not be severely criticised.

      She knew of my lord’s late arrival—from Canada he had told her—though he had paid a flying visit to New York.

      She hoped no one in the ball-room would recognise him—at least not till after she had paraded him with her own party, and could assume the seeming of his introducer.

      She had still stronger reason for this. Storekeeper’s widow, as she was, she possessed the true tact of the match-making mother. It belongs to no clime exclusively; no country. It can be as well acquired in New York as in London, Vienna, or Paris. She was a believer in first impressions—with the “compromises” that often spring from them; and in this theory—with the view of putting it into practice—she had instructed her dear Julia while dressing her for the ball.

      The daughter had promised compliance. Who wouldn’t, with the prospect of earning twenty thousand dollars’ worth of diamonds?

Chapter Ten.

       Table of Contents

      A Previous Engagement.

      In all the gradations of the thermal line, is there any atmosphere more unbearable than that of a ball-room before the dancing commences?

      It is the very essence of discomfort.

      What a relief when the baton of the conductor is seen elevated over his acolytes, and those strains, proverbially soothing to the savage, resound through the glittering saloon!

      It was a relief to Mrs Girdwood and her girls. They had begun to fancy themselves too much observed. At least Julia had, half suspecting herself of being the subject of a cynical criticism, which she did not think of attributing to her diamonds.

      She was burning with an ill-repressed spleen, by no means diminished as the sets commenced forming, and no one came forward to claim either herself or her cousin.

      At that moment appeared a man whose presence changed the current of her thoughts. It was Maynard.

      In spite of her mother’s precautionary counsels, Miss Girdwood could not look upon this gentleman with indifference. To say nothing of what had passed between them, a glance satisfied her that there was no handsomer man in the room, or likely to come into it.

      He was approaching from the entrance, apparently making his way toward the Girdwood group.

      Julia wondered whether he was going to join them. She hoped that he would.

      “I suppose I may dance with him, mother—that is, if he asks me?”

      “Not yet, my dear, not yet. Wait a little longer. His lordship—Mr Swinton—may come in at any moment. You must have the first with him. I wonder why he’s not here,” pursued the impatient parent, for the tenth time raising her eye-glass and taking a survey of the saloon. “I suppose it’s not fashionable for men of rank to come in early. No matter, Julia; you must reserve yourself till the last moment.”

      But the last moment had now arrived. The introductory piece had been played and was succeeded by the hum of half-whispered voices, and the rustling of silk dresses—by that movement which precedes the taking of places—gentlemen gliding in short stages across the slippery floor, formally bending in front of expanded skirts, and mincing out the well-known speech, “May I have the pleasure?” Then a momentary show of irresolution on the part of the lady, perhaps the consulting of a slip of cardboard, an inclination of the head so slight as to be scarce observable, a rising to the feet, with the greatest apparent reluctance, and lastly the acceptance of the offered arm, as if conferring the supremest of favours!

      Neither of the young ladies under Mrs Girdwood’s care had been yet called upon to take part in this pantomime. Certainly the stewards were not doing their duty. There were no finer-looking girls in the room, and there were scores of gentlemen who would have been delighted to dance with them. Their standing neglected could be only an accidental oversight.

      The storekeeper’s widow began to find it disagreeable. She felt inclined to be less exacting about the description of partners. As there was no lord in sight, the ex-officer would not be much longer objected to.

      “Does he intend coming at all?” she reflected, thinking of Swinton.

      “Does he intend coming to us?” was the reflection of Julia, her thoughts dwelling upon Maynard.

      Her eyes, too, were on him. He was still approaching, though slowly. He was hindered by the hurrying couples as they took position on the floor. But she could see that he was looking toward them—herself and cousin—where they stood.

      He evidently approached with an air of indecision, his glance appearing to interrogate them.

      It must have been met by one of encouragement, for his demeanour became suddenly changed and stepping up to the two young ladies, he saluted them with a bow.

      By both the salutation was returned, perhaps more cordially than he had been expecting.

      Both appeared to be still unengaged. To which ought he to offer himself? He knew which he would have chosen, but there was a question of etiquette.

      As it turned out, there was no question of choice.

      “Julia, my dear,” said Mrs Girdwood, presenting a very stylishly-dressed individual, who had just been given in charge to her by one of the stewards. “I hope you have not engaged yourself for the quadrille? I’ve promised you to this gentleman. Mr Smithson—my daughter.”

      Julia glanced at Smithson, and then looked as if she wished him far enough.

      But she had not engaged herself, and was therefore compelled to accept.

      Lest a second Mr Smithson should be trotted up, Maynard hastened to secure Cornelia, and led her off to form “opposite couple.”

      Seemingly satisfied with the disposal thus made, Mrs Girdwood retired to a seat.

      Her contentment was of short continuance. She had scarce touched the cushion, when she saw coming towards her a gentleman of distinguished appearance, in straw kids. It was his lordship incog.

      She started back to her feet, and glanced across the room toward the square that contained her girls. She looked interrogatively, then despairingly. It was too late. The quadrille had commenced. Mr Smithson was doing “right and left” with her daughter. Confound Mr Smithson!

      “Aw, madam! How’d do, again? Ball begun, I pawceive; and I’m cut out of the kadwille.”

      “It is true, Mr Swinton; you’ve come in a little late, sir.”

      “What a baw! I pwesume yaw young ladies are disposed of?”

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