e
said nothing to Isabel about him; she talked only of her partner, after
he had made his bow and retired; of the music, the floor, the rare
misfortune of having already torn her dress. Isabel was sure, however,
she had discovered her lover to have abstracted a flower; though this
knowledge was not needed to account for the dutiful grace with which she
responded to the appeal of her next partner. That perfect amenity under
acute constraint was part of a larger system. She was again led forth
by a flushed young man, this time carrying her bouquet; and she had
not been absent many minutes when Isabel saw Lord Warburton advancing
through the crowd. He presently drew near and bade her good-evening;
she had not seen him since the day before. He looked about him, and then
"Where's the little maid?" he asked. It was in this manner that he had
formed the harmless habit of alluding to Miss Osmond.

"She's dancing," said Isabel. "You'll see her somewhere."

He looked among the dancers and at last caught Pansy's eye. "She sees
me, but she won't notice me," he then remarked. "Are you not dancing?"

"As you see, I'm a wall-flower."

"Won't you dance with me?"

"Thank you; I'd rather you should dance with the little maid."

"One needn't prevent the other--especially as she's engaged."

"She's not engaged for everything, and you can reserve yourself. She
dances very hard, and you'll be the fresher."

"She dances beautifully," said Lord Warburton, following her with his
eyes. "Ah, at last," he added, "she has given me a smile." He stood
there with his handsome, easy, important physiognomy; and as Isabel
observed him it came over her, as it had done before, that it was
strange a man of his mettle should take an interest in a little maid. It
struck her as a great incongruity; neither Pansy's small fascinations,
nor his own kindness, his good-nature, not even his need for amusement,
which was extreme and constant, were sufficient to account for it. "I
should like to dance with you," he went on in a moment, turning back to
Isabel; "but I think I like even better to talk with you."

"Yes, it's better, and it's more worthy of your dignity. Great statesmen
oughtn't to waltz."

"Don't be cruel. Why did you recommend me then to dance with Miss
Osmond?"

"Ah, that's different. If you danced with her it would look simply like
a piece of kindness--as if you were doing it for her amusement. If you
dance with me you'll look as if you we