t he could speak before Miss Amory,
and became uncommonly lively and talkative, even before the dinner was
announced and the party descended to the lower rooms. He would have
longed to give his arm to the fair Blanche, and conduct her down the
broad carpeted stair; but she fell to the lot of Pen upon this occasion,
Mr. Foker being appointed to escort Mrs. Welbore Welbore, in consequence
of his superior rank as an earl's grandson.

But though he was separated from the object of his desire during the
passage downstairs, the delighted Foker found himself by Miss Amory's
side at the dinner-table, and flattered himself that he had manoeuvred
very well in securing that happy place. It may be that the move was not
his, but that it was made by another person. Blanche had thus the two
young men, one on each side of her, and each tried to render himself
gallant and agreeable.

Foker's mamma, from her place, surveying her darling boy, was surprised
at his vivacity. Harry talked constantly to his fair neighbour about the
topics of the day.

"Seen Taglioni in the Sylphide, Miss Amory? Bring me that souprame of
Volile again if you please (this was addressed to the attendant near
him), very good: can't think where the souprames come from; what becomes
of the legs of the fowls, I wonder? She's clipping in the Sylphide,
ain't she?" and he began very kindly to hum the pretty air which
pervades that prettiest of all ballets, now faded into the past with
that most beautiful and gracious of all dancers. Will the young folks
ever see anything so charming, anything so classic, anything like
Taglioni?

"Miss Amory is a sylph herself," said Mr. Pen.

"What a delightful tenor voice you have, Mr. Foker," said the young
lady. "I am sure you have been well taught. I sing a little myself. I
should like to sing with you."

Pen remembered that words very similar had been addressed to himself by
the young lady, and that she had liked to sing with him in former days.
And sneering within himself, he wondered with how many other gentlemen
she had sung duets since his time? But he did not think fit to put this
awkward question aloud: and only said, with the very tenderest air which
he could assume, "I should like to hear you sing again, Miss Blanche. I
never heard a voice I liked so well as yours, I think."

"I thought you liked Laura's," said Miss Blanche.

"Laura's is a contralto: and that voice is very often out, you know,"
Pen said, bitterly.