should you be in any danger. Remember, the mouse
once rescued the lion!"--and she smiles again, and glances at him with
a touch of her old archness.

"It is a bargain. And now, will you rest here awhile until you feel
quite restored to calmness?"

"But you must not remain with me," Florence urges hurriedly. "Your
guests are awaiting you. Probably"--with a faint smile--"your partner
for this waltz is impatiently wondering what has become of you."

"I think not," says Adrian, returning her smile. "Fortunately I have
no one's name on my card for this waltz. I say fortunately, because I
think"--glancing at her tenderly--"I have been able to bring back the
smiles to your face sooner than would have been the case had you been
left here alone to brood over your trouble, whatever it may be."

"There is no trouble," declares Florence, in a somewhat distressed
fashion, turning her head restlessly to one side. "I wish you would
dispossess yourself of that idea. And, do not stay here, they--every
one, will accuse you of discourtesy if you absent yourself from the
ball-room any longer."

"Then, come with me," says Adrian. "See, this waltz is only just
beginning: give it to me."

Carried away by his manner, she lays her hand upon his arm, and goes
with him to the ball-room. There he passes his arm round her waist, and
presently they are lost among the throng of whirling dancers, and both
give themselves up for the time being to the mere delight of knowing
that they are together.

Two people, seeing them enter thus together, on apparently friendly
terms, regard them with hostile glances. Dora Talbot, who is coquetting
sweetly with a gaunt man of middle age, who is evidently overpowered by
her attentions, letting her eyes rest upon Florence as she waltzes past
her with Sir Adrian, colors warmly, and, biting her lip, forgets the
honeyed speech she was about to bestow upon her companion, who is the
owner of a considerable property, and lapses into silence, for which the
gaunt man is devoutly grateful, as it gives him a moment in which to
reflect on the safest means of getting rid of her without delay.

Dora's fair brow grows darker and darker as she watches Florence, and
notes the smile that lights her beautiful face as she makes some answer
to one of Sir Adrian's sallies. Where is Dynecourt, that he has not been
on the spot to prevent this dance, she wonders. She grows angry, and
would have stamped her little foot with impatie