collection of his making his bow to my aunt, who received him,
as she does all good-looking young men, with a patronizing smile, and
a vision of John "doing the polite," and laughing as he ceremoniously
introduced "Captain Lovell" and "Miss Coventry," and something said
about "the honour of the next waltz;" and although I am not easily
discomposed, I confess I felt a little shy and uncomfortable till I
found myself hanging on Captain Lovell's arm, and elbowing our way to
a place amongst the dancers.

I must say he wasn't the least what I expected--not at all forward,
and never alluded to our previous meeting, or to Brilliant, till we
went to have an ice in the tea-room, when Captain Lovell began to
enlarge upon the charm of those morning rides, and the fresh air, and
the beautiful scenery of Hyde Park; and though I never told him
exactly, he managed to find out that I rode every day at the same
early hour, "_even_ after a ball!" and that I was as likely to be
there to-morrow as any day in the week; and so we had another turn at
"the Colombetta" waltz, and he took me back to my aunt, half-inclined
to be pleased with _him_, and more than half-inclined to be angry with
_myself_. I am afraid I couldn't help watching him as he loitered
about amongst the crowd, now deep in conversation with Lady
Scapegrace, now laughing with my new friend, Mrs. Lumley. He looked so
like a gentleman, even amongst all the high-bred men there; and though
so handsome, he didn't appear the least conceited. I began to wonder
whether all could be true that I had heard of him, and to think that a
man who liked such early walks could not possibly be the _roue_ and
"good-for-nothing" they made him out. I was roused out of a brown
study by Cousin John's voice in my ear, "Now then, Kate, for _our_
waltz. The room's a little clearer, so we can go the 'pace' if you
like." And away we went to "the Odalisque" faster than any other
couple in the room. Somehow it wasn't half such a pretty air as the
Colombetta, and John, though he has a very good ear, didn't seem to
waltz quite so well as usual; perhaps I was getting a little tired. I
know I wasn't at all sorry when my aunt ordered the carriage; and I
thought the dawn never looked so beautiful as it did when we emerged
from those hot, lighted rooms into the pure, fragrant summer air. I
confess I do love the dawn, even in London. I like to see the "gates
of morning" open with that clear, light-green tinge that