good salve, when one has no humility; and it was Pride
that I applied to myself to heal the wounds I had.

I came down again to the Great Chamber, half an hour later, very cold
and dignified, and danced again, like the solemn fool that I was, first
with one and then with another; and all the while I told myself, like
the prophet that "I did well to be angry"; and that I would shew her
that no man, of my ability, could depend upon any mere woman for his
content. Yet the pain at my heart was miserable.

It is very near incredible to me now how I, who truly knew something of
the world, and of men and of affairs, could be so childish and ignorant
in a matter of this sort. In truth this was what I was; I knew nothing
of true love at all; how therefore should I be a proper lover? I saw my
Cousin Tom, who mopped himself a great deal, eyeing me now and again;
and he presently came up and asked me where Dolly was.

"In her chamber, I think," said I, with my nose in the air; and with
such a manner that he said no more.

It was enough to break my heart to continue dancing; but it was the task
I had set myself upstairs; and till near ten o'clock we continued to
dance--but no Dolly to help us. I had even determined how I should bear
myself if she came--and how superb should be my dignity; but she did not
come to see it. We ended with singing "Here's a health unto His
Majesty"; and I took care that my voice should be loud so that she
should hear it. (I had even, poor fool that I was! walked heavily past
her chamber-door just now, that she might hear me go.)

When all were gone away at last, I waited for my Cousin Tom, and then
went with him into the parlour; where I told him very briefly all that
had passed, with the same dignity that I had set myself to preserve. I
even spoke in a high sort of voice, to shew my self-command and
detachment. My Cousin Tom appeared as if thunderstruck.

"Good God!" said he. "The minx! to behave like that!"

"It is no longer any concern of mine," I said. "For myself I shall go
back to town to-morrow."

"But--" began he.

"My dear Cousin," I said, "it is the only thing that I can do--to set to
work again. Mistress Dorothy must recover herself alone. I could not
expect her to tolerate such a personage as I must appear in her eyes."

"But you will came back again," said Tom. "And I'll talk to the chit as
she deserves."

I preserved my lofty attitude.

"That again," said I, "is no concern of