one but Jane,
and my feeling of intense admiration for Mary was but a part of man's
composite inconstancy.

A woman--God bless her--if she really loves a man, has no thought of
any other; one at a time is all-sufficient; but a man may love one
woman with the warmth of a simoon, and at the same time feel like a
good healthy south wind toward a dozen others. That is the difference
between a man and a woman--the difference between the good and the
bad. One average woman has enough goodness in her to supply an army of
men.

Mary and Brandon went on dancing long after Jane was tired of playing.
It was plain to see that the girl was thoroughly enjoying it. They
kept up a running fire of small talk, and laughed, and smiled, and
bowed, and courtesied, all in perfect time and grace.

It is more difficult than you may think, if you have never tried, to
keep up a conversation and dance La Galliard, at the same time--one is
apt to balk the other--but Brandon's dancing was as easy to him as
walking, and, although so small a matter, I could see it raised him
vastly in the estimation of both girls.

"Do you play triumph?" I heard Mary ask in the midst of the dancing.

"Oh! yes," replied Brandon, much to my delight, as the princess threw
a mischievous, knowing glance over her shoulder to see if I had heard.
She at once saw I had, and this, of course, settled the wager.

"And," continued Brandon, "I also play the new game, 'honor and
ruff,' which is more interesting than triumph."

"Oh! do you?" cried Mary. "That will more than compensate for the loss
of my ten crowns. Let us sit down at once; I have been wishing to
learn, but no one here seems to know it. In France, they say, it is
the only game. I suppose there is where you learned it? Perhaps you
know their new dances too! I have heard they are delightful!"

"Yes, I know them," replied Brandon.

"Why, you are a perfect treasure; teach me at once. How now, Master of
the Dance? Here is your friend outdoing you in your own line."

"I am glad to hear it," I returned.

"If Lady Jane will kindly play some lively air, written in the time of
'The Sailor Lass,' I will teach the Lady Mary the new dance," said
Brandon.

Jane threw one plump little knee over the other and struck up "The
Sailor Lass." After she had adjusted the playing to Brandon's
suggestion, he stepped deliberately in front of Mary, and, taking her
right hand in his left, encircled her waist with his right arm. T