apt admiration upon the beautiful figure and
graceful movements of his mistress. The set was ended, and the second
begun--Victor being too slow in his request for her hand, she yielded
it to another eager admirer. The third set soon followed, and
laughingly she again took my arm. The fourth, and she was dancing with
a stranger guest. As she wound through the mazes of the dance, arching
her graceful neck with a proud motion, her eye, maliciously sportive,
watched the workings of jealousy which clouded Victor's brow. He did
not solicit her hand again, but stood with fixed eye and swelling
throat, looking out upon the lake. I rallied him upon his moodiness,
and told him he did not bear defeat with philosophy.

"Your dancing," said he, "would win the admiration of an angel;" and
his lip curled with a slight sneer.

I did not feel flattered much, that he attributed my success to my
_heels_ instead of my _head_, and I carelessly remarked that perhaps
he felt inclined to test my superior powers in some other method. He
looked at me firmly for a moment, his large, dark eye blazing, and
then burst into a laugh.

"Yes," said he, "I should like to try a waltz with you upon the icy
surface of the lake."

"Come on," said I, thoughtlessly, "any adventure that will cure you of
conceit--you know that is my purpose here to-night."

Laughing at the remark, he led the way from the ball-room. I observed
by Victor's eye and pale countenance, that he was chagrined at
Estelle's treatment, and thought he was making an excuse to get out in
the night air to cool his fevered passions.

"See," he said, when he descended, "there burns the torch of the
Indian fishermen, far out on the lake--they are spearing
salmon-trout--we will go see the sport."[2]

I looked out in the direction he indicated, and far away upon its
glassy surface glimmered a single light, throwing its feeble ray in a
bright line along the ice. The moon was down, and the broad expanse
before us was wrapped in darkness, save this taper which shone through
the clear, cold atmosphere.

"You are surely mad," said I, "to think of such an attempt."

"If the bare thought fills you with _fear_," he answered, "I have no
desire for your company. The _dance_ within, I see, is more to your
mind."

Without regarding his sneer, I remarked that if he was disposed to
play the madman, I was not afraid to become his keeper, it mattered
not how far the fit took him.

"Come on, then," s