o eloquent from
those fingers.

"I hate dancing. How is a fellow to dance now? I shall run against
everybody. I can see no one. I should be sure to make a fool of myself.
No, I don't want to dance even with you. No, certainly not!--let you
dance with somebody else, and you engaged to me! Well, if I must, of
course I must. I declare, Florence, you have not spoken a single word to
me, though there is so much that you must have to say. What have you got
to say? What a question to ask! You must tell me. Oh, you know what you
have got to tell me! The sound of it will be the sweetest music that a
man can possibly hear."

"You knew it all, Harry," she whispered.

"But I want to hear it. Oh, Florence, Florence, I do not think you can
understand how completely I am beyond myself with joy. I cannot dance
again, and will not. Oh, my wife, my wife!"

"Hush!" said Florence, afraid that the very walls might hear the sound
of Harry's words.

"What does it signify though all the world knew it?"

"Oh yes."

"That I should have been so fortunate! That is what I cannot understand.
Poor Mountjoy! I do feel for him. That he should have had the start of
me so long, and have done nothing!"

"Nothing," whispered Florence.

"And I have done everything. I am so proud of myself that I think I must
look almost like a hero."

They had now got to the extremity of the room near an open window, and
Florence found that she was able to say one word. "You are my hero." The
sound of this nearly drove him mad with joy. He forgot all his troubles.
Prodgers, the policeman, Augustus Scarborough, and that fellow whom he
hated so much, Septimus Jones;--what were they all to him now? He had set
his mind upon one thing of value, and he had got it. Florence had
promised to be his, and he was sure that she would never break her word
to him. But he felt that for the full enjoyment of his triumph he must
be alone somewhere with Florence for five minutes. He had not actually
explained to himself why, but he knew that he wished to be alone with
her. At present there was no prospect of any such five minutes, but he
must say something in preparation for some future five minutes at a time
to come. Perhaps it might be to-morrow, though he did not at present see
how that might be possible, for Mrs. Mountjoy, he knew, would shut her
door against him. And Mrs. Mountjoy was already prowling round the room
after her daughter. Harry saw her as he got Florence to an