ight soon be would be
serious; but I soon found my anxiety groundless; he was too well made
and elastic to be clumsy, and had perfect power over his own weight and
strength, so that he could dance as lightly and safely as Dermot with
his Irish litheness.

"Do you think I might ask Miss Tracy?" he said, in return for my
compliments.

"Of course; why not?"

When he did ask, her reply was, "Oh, will you indeed? Thank you."
Which naivete actually raised her mother's colour with annoyance. But
if she had a rod laid up, Viola did not feel it then; she looked
radiant, and though I don't believe three words passed between the
partners, that waltz was the glory of the evening to her.

She must have made him take her to the tea-room for some ice, and there
it was that, while I was standing with my partner a little way off, we
heard Miss Avice Stympson's peculiarly penetrating attempt at a
whisper, observing, "Yes, it is melancholy! I thought we were safe
here, or I never should have brought my dear little Birdie.... What,
don't you know? There's no doubt of it--the glaze on the pottery is
dead men's bones. They have an arrangement with the hospitals in
London, you understand. I can't think how Lord Erymanth can be so
deceived. But you see the trick was a perfect success. Yes, the
blocking up the railway. A mercy no lives were lost; but that would
have been nothing to him after the way he has gone on in
Australia.--Oh, Lord Erymanth, I did not know you were there."

"And as I could not avoid overhearing you," said that old gentleman,
"let me remind you that I regard courtesy to the guest as due respect
to the host, and that I have good reason to expect that my visitors
should have some confidence in my discrimination of the persons I
invite them to meet."

Therewith both he and Miss Stympson had become aware of the head that
was above them all, and the crimson that dyed the cheeks and brow;
while Viola, trembling with passion, and both hands clasped over
Harold's arm, exclaimed, in a panting whisper, "Tell them it is a
wicked falsehood--tell them it is no such thing!"

"I will speak to your uncle to-morrow. I am obliged to him."

Everybody heard that, and all who had either feeling or manners knew
that no more ought to be said. Only Lord Erymanth made his way to
Harold to say, "I am very sorry this has happened."

Harold bent his head with a murmur of thanks, and was moving out of the
supper-room, when Dermot