a voice, whose
slightly foreign accent took nothing from its interest, I heard him
engaging a partner for a waltz.

There was a flutter of excitement in the circle as the lady rose to take
his arm, and a muttered sound of, "How very beautiful, quelle est belle,
c'est un ange!" on all sides. I leaned forward to catch a glance as she
passed; it was Lucy Dashwood. Beautiful beyond anything I had ever seen
her, her lovely features lit up with pleasure and with pride, she looked in
every way worthy to lean upon the arm of royalty. The graceful majesty of
her walk, the placid loveliness of her gentle smile, struck every one
as she passed on. As for me, totally forgetting all else, not seeing or
hearing aught around me, I followed her with my eye until she was lost
among the crowd, and then, with an impulse of which I was not master,
followed in her steps.

"This way, this way," said Power; "I see the senhora." So saying, we
entered a little boudoir, where a party was playing at cards. Leaning on
the back of a chair, Inez was endeavoring, with that mixture of coquetry
and half malice she possessed, to distract the attention of the player. As
Power came near, she scarcely turned her head to give him a kind of saucy
smile; while, seeing me, she held out her hand with friendly warmth, and
seemed quite happy to meet me.

"Do, pray, take her away; get her to dance, to eat ice, or flirt with you,
for Heaven's sake!" said the half-laughing voice of her victim. "I have
revoked twice, and misdealt four times since she has been here. Believe me,
I shall take it as the greatest favor, if you'll--"

As he got thus far he turned round towards me, and I perceived it was Sir
George Dashwood. The meeting was as awkward for him as for me; and while a
deep flush covered my face, he muttered some unintelligible apology, and
Inez burst into a fit of laughter at the ludicrous _contretemps_ of our
situation.

"I will dance with you now, if you like," said she, "and that will be
punishing all three. Eh, Master Fred?"

So saying, she took my arm as I led her toward the ball-room.

"And so you really are not friends with the Dashwoods? How very provoking,
and how foolish, too! But really, Chevalier, I must say you treat ladies
very ill. I don't forget your conduct to me. Dear me, I wish we could move
forward, there is some one pushing me dreadfully!"

"Get on, Ma'am, get on!" said a sharp, decided voice behind me. I turned,
half smiling, to