some even among those few declined, through modesty, the exhibition.

To this dance Godolphin led Lady Margaret. All crowded round to see the
performers; and, as each went through the giddy and intoxicating
maze, they made remarks on the awkwardness or the singularity, or the
impropriety of the dance. But when Godolphin began, the murmurs changed.
The slow and stately measure then adapted to the steps, was one in which
the graceful symmetry of his person might eminently display itself. Lady
Margaret was at least as well acquainted with the dance: and the couple
altogether so immeasurably excelled all competitors, that the rest,
as if sensible of it, stopped one after the other; and when Godolphin,
perceiving that they were alone, stopped also, the spectators made
their approbation more audible than approbation usually is in polished
society.

As Godolphin paused, his eyes met those of Constance. There was not
there the expression he had anticipated there was neither the anger of
jealousy, nor the restlessness of offended vanity, nor the desire
of conciliation, visible in those large and speaking orbs. A deep, a
penetrating, a sad inquiry seemed to dwell in her gaze,--seemed anxious
to pierce into his heart, and to discover whether there she possessed
the power to wound, or whether each had been deceived: so at least
seemed that fixed and melancholy intenseness of look to Godolphin.
He left Lady Margaret abruptly: in an instant he was by the side of
Constance.

"You must be delighted with this evening," said he, bitterly: "wherever
I go I hear your praises: every one admires you; and he who does not
admire so much as worship you, _he_ alone is beneath your notice.
He--born to such shattered fortunes,--he indeed might never _aspire_ to
that which titled and wealthy idiots deem they may _command,_--the hand
of Constance Vernon."

It was with a low and calm tone that Godolphin spoke. Constance turned
deadly pale: her frame trembled; but she did not answer immediately. She
moved to a seat retired a little from the busy crowd; Godolphin followed
and sat himself beside her; and then, with a slight effort, Constance
spoke.

"You heard what was said, Mr. Godolphin, and I grieve to think you
did. If I offended you, however, forgive me, I pray you; I pray
sincerely--warmly. God knows I have suffered myself enough from idle
words, and from the slighting opinion with which this hard world visits
the poor, not to feel deep reg