heels that night.

Before further could be said the fair object of the dialogue came darting
on a trip of little runs, both hands out, all her face one tender sparkle
of a smile; and her cry proved the quality of her blood: 'Emmy! Emmy! my
heart!'

'My dear Tony!

I should not have come but for the hope of seeing you here.'

Lord Larrian rose and received a hurried acknowledgement of his courtesy
from the usurper of his place.

'Emmy! we might kiss and hug; we're in Ireland. I burn to! But you're not
still ill, dear? Say no! That Indian fever must have gone. You do look a
dash pale, my own; you're tired.'

'One dance has tired me. Why were you so late?'

'To give the others a chance? To produce a greater impression by
suspense? No and no. I wrote you I was with the Pettigrews. We caught the
coach, we caught the boat, we were only two hours late for the Ball; so
we did wonders. And good Mrs. Pettigrew is, pining somewhere to complete
her adornment. I was in the crush, spying for Emmy, when Mr. Mayor
informed me it was the duty of every Irishwoman to dance her toes off, if
she 'd be known for what she is. And twirl! a man had me by the waist,
and I dying to find you.'

'Who was the man?'

'Not to save these limbs from the lighted stake could I tell you!'

'You are to perform a ceremonious bow to Lord Larrian.'

'Chatter first! a little!'

The plea for chatter was disregarded. It was visible that the hero of the
night hung listening and in expectation. He and the Beauty were named to
one another, and they chatted through a quadrille. Sir Lukin introduced a
fellow-Harrovian of old days, Mr. Thomas Redworth, to his wife.

'Our weather-prophet, meteorologist,' he remarked, to set them going;
'you remember, in India, my pointing to you his name in a
newspaper--letter on the subject. He was generally safe for the
cricketing days.'

Lady Dunstane kindly appeared to call it to mind, and she led upon the
them-queried at times by an abrupt 'Eh?' and 'I beg pardon,' for
manifestly his gaze and one of his ears, if not the pair, were given to
the young lady discoursing with Lord Larrian. Beauty is rare; luckily is
it rare, or, judging from its effect on men, and the very stoutest of
them, our world would be internally more distracted planet than we see,
to the perversion of business, courtesy, rights of property, and the
rest. She perceived an incipient victim, of the hundreds she anticipated,
and she very tolerantly