miserable. Richard sighed as he turned away and answered some question
of Sophie; who was quite revived.

Charlotte and Henrietta each had an admirer, one of the Lowders, and a
young Frenchman who had come with the Lowders.

It had evidently been a very happy day with all the young ladies from
the house. After tea the gentlemen must smoke, and after the smoking
there was to be dancing. The preparations for the dancing created a good
deal of amusement and consumed a great deal of time. Kilian and young
Lowder went a mile and a half to get a man to play for them. When he
came, he had to be instructed as to the style of music to be furnished,
and the rasping and scraping of that miserable instrument put me beside
myself with nervousness. Then the "ball-room" had to be aired and
lighted; then the negro's music was found to be incompatible with modern
movements; even a waltz was proved impossible, and nobody would consent
to remember a quadrille but Richard. So they had to fall back upon
Virginia reels, and everybody was made to dance.

The dissatisfied man was at my side when the order was given. He turned
to me languidly, and offered me his hand.

"No," I exclaimed, biting my lips with impatience, and added, "You will
excuse me, won't you?"

He said, with grave philosophy, "I really think it will seem shorter
than if we were looking on."

I accepted this wise counsel, and went to dance with him. And what a
dance it was! The blinking kerosene lamps at the sides of the room, the
asparagus boughs overhead, the grinning negro on the little platform by
the door: the amused faces looking in at the open windows: the romping,
well-dressed, pretty women: the handsome men who were trying to act like
clowns: the noise of laughing and the calling out of the figures: all
this, I am sure, I never shall forget. And, strange to say, I somewhat
enjoyed it after all. The coffee had stimulated me: the music was merry:
I was reckless, and my companions were full of glee. Even the _ennuye_
skipped up and down the room like a school-boy: I never shall forget
Richard's happy and relieved expression, when I laughed aloud at
somebody's amusing blunder.

Then came the reaction, when the dancing was over, and we were getting
ready to go home. It was a good deal after ten o'clock, and the night
was cold. There were not quite shawls enough, no preparations having
been made for staying out after dark. Richard went up to Sophie (I was
standing