"We haven't looked in the dancing-room," said Tom, looking at his
companion rather sorrowfully. John turned quickly and they reentered the
house.
He had parted from her in the blackness of storm with only the flicker of
lightning to show her to him, but it was in a blaze of lights that he saw
her again. The dance was just ended, and she stood in a wide doorway, half
surrounded by pretty girls and young men, who were greeting her. He had
one full look at her. She was leaning to them all, her arms full of
flowers, and she seemed the radiant centre of all the light and gaiety of
the place. Even Meredith stopped short and exclaimed upon her; for one
never got used to her; and he remembered that whenever he saw her after
absence the sense of her beauty rushed over him anew. And he believed the
feeling on this occasion was keener than ever before, for she was prettier
than he had ever seen her.
"No wonder!" he cried; but Harkless did not understand. As they pressed
forward, Meredith perceived that they were only two more radii of a circle
of youths, sprung from every direction as the waltz ended, bearing down
upon the common focus to secure the next dance. Harkless saw nothing but
that she stood there before him. He feared a little that every one might
notice how he was trembling, and he was glad of the many voices that kept
them from hearing his heart knock against his ribs. She saw him coming
toward her, and nodded to him pleasantly, in just the fashion in which she
was bowing to half a dozen others, and at that a pang of hot pain went
through him like an arrow--an arrow poisoned with cordial, casual
friendliness.
She extended her hand to him and gave him a smile that chilled him--it,
was so conventionally courteous and poised so nicely in the manner of
society. He went hot and cold fast enough then, for not less pleasantly in
that manner did she exclaim: "I am very glad to see you, Mr. Harkless, so
extremely glad! And so delighted to find you looking strong again! Do tell
me about all our friends in Plattville. I should like to have a little
chat with you some time. So good of you to find me in this melee."
And with that she turned from the poor fellow to Meredith. "How do you do.
Cousin Tom? I've saved the next dance for you." Then she distributed words
here and there and everywhere, amongst the circle about her--pretty
Marquise with a vengeance! "No, Mr. Swift, I shall not make a card; you
must come at the beginning of a dance if you want one. I cannot promise
the next; it is quite impossible. No, I did not go as far north as
Mackinac. How do you do, Mr. Burlingame?--Yes, quite an age;--no, not the
next, I am afraid; nor the next;--I'm not keeping a card. Good evening,
Mr. Baird. No, not the next. Oh, thank you, Miss Hinsdale!--No, Mr.
Swift, it is quite impossible--I'm so sorry. Cousin, the music is
commencing; this is ours."