Part 5 (1/2)

'No; not at all, I a.s.sure you--'

'Don't waste time then looking at it, fetch another quickly,' and Philippa begins hastily to cover her own bare hands. 'Chubby,' she calls after him, 'they're beginning to dance. I can't keep this one for you, the next one will do just as well, won't it?'

'Quite,' is the reply as he ascends the stairs three steps at a time; while she becomes aware of two men making for her, Harkness and Dalrymple, the former she feels will reach her first, and she has no desire to dance with him: so she suddenly feels that she ought to be nearer her sister-in-law, and edging her way through the crowd gains her chaperon's side, a second before Jimmy comes up.

'May I have this?' he says eagerly, and receiving an affirmative, he leads her off to the ball-room, where the ”Garden of Sleep” waltz is echoing through the well-lighted apartment, and the air is fragrant with the scent of many flowers. Already a goodly crowd is there, mammas, elderly spinsters, girls of all sizes and ages, in satin, silks, and tulle; old men, middle-aged men, young men and mere boys are all collected there. In a second Dalrymple and Philippa join in the giddy dance; for what is more giddifying (if I may use such a word), than waltzing in a room full of people who have not summoned up courage enough to begin, round and round they go, till Miss Seaton at length says, 'I think I really must stop although the best part of the tune is just coming. We can't be like the river, can we, going on forever:'

'Men may come and men may go,'

'But I go on forever.'

She murmurs more to herself than to him, as they make their way to the conservatory, and then, 'Do you like poetry?' she asks.

'Pretty well, I don't read much of it.'

'I am so fond of it,' replies Philippa, settling herself comfortably on a sofa surrounded by cus.h.i.+ons, 'I could read it all day.'

'Ah, you see you have more time to do what you like, but when a fellow has been at work all day, he doesn't feel inclined for poetry, you've got nothing to do except to read and do fancy work, I suppose.'

'That's a mistake that all men make, they think that girls have nothing to do all day, when they have quite as much as men if not more; you don't know anything about them. And I think poetry is the _most_ restful thing to read when one's tired, you see our minds soar to higher things than yours, you study the _Racing Calendar_ and the newspapers, don't you?'

'Generally, not always,' admits Jimmy.

'The _Racing Calendar_, _versus_ Tennyson, Longfellow, or Mrs Browning; but I don't believe you're half listening to me,' says she, for he is gazing straight in front of him.

'I a.s.sure you I was,' he protests, 'I am in a crowd now, may I not muse on the ”absent face that has fixed” me.'

'No, certainly not, you ought to be thinking of me,' this in a slightly aggrieved tone.

'How do you know I wasn't,' gazing at her earnestly.

'I'm not absent,' and then Philippa seeing what might be implied, blushes a rosy red, and rising says, 'We must go back now, I promised Lord Helmdon this dance, and he'll never find me here. Ah! there he is.'

'Are you so anxious to dance with him?' asks Jimmy in a would-be indifferent tone.

'Yes, of course,' she replies, 'I like him so much, don't you?'

'Oh, yes,' replies Dalrymple with equal indifference. And so the evening wears on and Miss Seaton is congratulating herself at having eluded Captain Harkness, when she suddenly finds him standing before her.

'Won't you give me a dance?' he says in his suave tone. 'I have been trying to speak to you all the evening--'

'Have you?' she replies, and not knowing quite how to get out of it.

'You may have the next one if you like,' she says.

'May I really? Then I shall find you somewhere about here?'

Lippa nods, and her partner, an aged baronet, claims her and they go through the intricacies of the lancers. Almost before the next dance has begun, Harkness appears; he dances beautifully and knows it too, but it is not long before he suggests a saunter in the garden.

Philippa consents, and forth they go into the cool night air. A hundred tiny lamps have been placed among the bushes, which shed a subdued light over the scene; charming corners have been arranged to sit in, while the splas.h.i.+ng of the fountains mingles with the laughter and conversation of the company.

'What an interminable dance,' thinks Philippa, as having walked a good way round the garden, she finds herself once more outside the ball-room, and the same tune is still being played. She heaves a sigh of despair and raising her eyes meets those of Dalrymple, who is propping himself against a pillar. There is a look of reproach in them, and Lippa, though her conscience tells her she was unkind to him, feels an insane desire to make him jealous, and turns with an adorable smile to Harkness, not having heard a word of what he has just been saying; but he, thinking he has everything in his grasp, smiles, and leads her almost before she is aware, to a secluded corner.