“Do not take any more of that,” he said, as I put out my hand for another cup of coffee.

“Well, what shall I take?” I exclaimed peevishly.  But indeed I did not mean to be peevish, nor did I know quite what I said, I was so miserable.  Richard sighed as he turned away and answered some question of Sophie; who was quite revived.

Charlotte and Henrietta each had an admirer, one of the Lowders, and a young Frenchman who had come with the Lowders.

It had evidently been a very happy day with all the young ladies from the house.  After tea the gentlemen must smoke, and after the smoking there was to be dancing.  The preparations for the dancing created a good deal of amusement and consumed a great deal of time.  Kilian and young Lowder went a mile and a half to get a man to play for them.  When he came, he had to be instructed as to the style of music to be furnished, and the rasping and scraping of that miserable instrument put me beside myself with nervousness.  Then the “ball-room” had to be aired and lighted; then the negro’s music was found to be incompatible with modern movements; even a waltz was proved impossible, and nobody would consent to remember a quadrille but Richard.  So they had to fall back upon Virginia reels, and everybody was made to dance.

The dissatisfied man was at my side when the order was given.  He turned to me languidly, and offered me his hand.

“No,” I exclaimed, biting my lips with impatience, and added, “You will excuse me, won’t you?”

He said, with grave philosophy, “I really think it will seem shorter than if we were looking on.”

I accepted this wise counsel, and went to dance with him.  And what a dance it was!  The blinking kerosene lamps at the sides of the room, the asparagus boughs overhead, the grinning negro on the little platform by the door:  the amused faces looking in at the open windows:  the romping, well-dressed, pretty women:  the handsome men who were trying to act like clowns:  the noise of laughing and the calling out of the figures:  all this, I am sure, I never shall forget.  And, strange to say, I somewhat enjoyed it after all.  The coffee had stimulated me:  the music was merry:  I was reckless, and my companions were full of glee.  Even the ennuye skipped up and down the room like a school-boy:  I never shall forget Richard’s happy and relieved expression, when I laughed aloud at somebody’s amusing blunder.

Then came the reaction, when the dancing was over, and we were getting ready to go home.  It was a good deal after ten o’clock, and the night was cold.  There were not quite shawls enough, no preparations having been made for staying out after dark.  Richard went up to Sophie (I was standing out by the steps to be ready the moment the carriages should come), and I heard him negotiating with her for a shawl for me.  She was quite impatient and peremptory, though sotto voce.  The children needed both her extra ones, and there was an end of it.