was ended, Rosa whisked Dick in one direction while Mrs. Atterbury asked Jack to take her to the library.  Here, by a happy chance, she came upon a group of dowagers—­friends of her youth from other towns—­brought to the capital by the event, or their husbands’ official duties in the new government.  Jack bowed low as he relinquished the good lady’s arm, feeling as if he were embarking on some odious treason, in view of her persistent and generous treatment of him and his.

“Now that you are among the friends of your youth, I will leave you; who knows whether I shall see you again?” he faltered, as she turned an affectionate glance upon him.

“Oh, you needn’t think that you can take conge for good, Jack.  I may want to dance during the night.  If I do I shall certainly lay my commands upon you.  You may devote yourself to the young people now, but I warn you I am not to be thrown over so easily.  Besides, I want to present you to a dozen friends that you have not yet met at my house.”

“You will always know where to find me; but I am not so sure that I shall be as able, as I am willing, to come to you,” Jack said, trembling at the double meaning of his words.

“Oh, I know you’re dying to get to the dancers.”

“I can go to no one that it will give me more happiness to please than you.  Indeed, I’m going into danger when I quit you.  Give me your blessing, as if it were Vincent going to the wars.”

She had turned from the throng of ladies, who were discussing a political secret, and her eyes melted tenderly as Vincent’s name passed Jack’s lips.  She touched his bowed head gently, saying: 

“Why, how serious you are!  One would think beauty a battery, and you on the way to charge.”

“You are right.  It is a murderous ambush.”

“Well, if you regard it so seriously—­God bless you in it.”

Her gentle eyes rested tenderly on him; he seized the kind hand, and, raising it to his lips in the gallant Southern fashion, turned and hurried away among the guests.

“Ah, Mrs. Atterbury, conquests at your age, from hand to lip, there’s but short interval,” and the President held up a warning finger as he came closer to the lady.

“Oh, no, age makes a long route between hand and lip—­thirty years ago you kissed my hand, and you never reached the lip.”

“It wasn’t my fault that I didn’t.”

“Nor your misfortune either,” and Mrs. Atterbury glanced archly at her rival, Mrs. Davis, the mature beauty of the scene.

Dick, meanwhile, not so dexterous in expedients or ready in speech as his mentor, became wedged in an eddy, just outside the main stream, pouring drawing-room ward, so that, returning to the spot where they had separated, Jack did not, for the moment, discover him.