romped with her this many a day. She waltzes with me in the
morning, and teazes me in the evening. I shall really be glad to
inflict her upon you."

"Then I accept the doom," said Randolph.

"Dance with her after supper," added his friend. "That's the time when
'beauty like the midnight flower--'" and Rereworth whistled "Fly not
yet."

His companion's spirits rose under the influence of his own.

"Another glass to her health, Morton, and let us away."

It was quaffed, and they departed. A lumbering hackney-coach conveyed
them to Cavendish-square. "Mr. Rereworth." ... "Mr. Rereworth." And
Randolph had made his bow to Mrs. Winston.

It is not easy for one who went down his first country-dance when
seven years old, at a children's ball, and has since practised the
festive science until he is too old to obtain any but children for
partners, to imagine the sensations of a novice like Randolph.
Leaning on Rereworth's arm, he looked confusedly at the fluctuating
scene around him, stationary himself among a universal motion, silent
amidst an all-pervading voice. His friend in the meantime was
surveying the company as it flowed tranquilly by him, recognising
acquaintances, now and then exchanging a few sentences. Randolph
heeded him not, being engaged in a fanciful comparison of the assembly
to the sea, and blending the faces of the company into waves, instead
of distinguishing individuals. He did not even observe that one
quitted the stream and ranged itself on the other side of Rereworth.
He did not observe it, until that gentleman, pressing his arm, said,
"Morton, my cousin-_in-law_, Miss Pendarrel."

It was a little sudden. Schoolboys tell stories about home and
relations; "men" at college become more reserved; in the world such
confidences cease. One sometimes knows nothing even of an intimate
friend's family. Thus Rereworth had not mentioned other names in his
invitation to Randolph, and Winston brought no associations to his
mind at its first announcement. But the case was very different when
he heard that of Pendarrel, and recognised its fair owner.

Mechanically, intuitively, he offered Mildred his arm. She laid her
hand lightly within it, and they moved onward with the crowd. They
made the tour of the saloon before the cavalier uttered a syllable.
"Seymour has brought me an oddity," thought Mildred. Randolph was
overwhelmed with a flood of rapid emotions, sombre as the canopy which
hung above his father's de