Meantime, a quadrille was being got up.  Such a performance and such partners had never been seen in light that shone on water or on land, being coupled by their dexterity in the art.  They were led off by Mrs. Duncombe and the Reverend James Bindon.  Mrs. Tallboys paired with Terry De Lancey, Lady Tyrrell with Herbert Bowater, Lady Rosamond with one of the officers.  Tom was pounced on by the great ‘Gussy Moy,’ who declared, to his bitter wrath, that she preferred little boys, turning her back on Mr. Strangeways and two or three more officers, as she saw them first solicitous to engage Eleonora Vivian—­who, however, was to skate with Charlie.

A few wistful glances were cast towards the Wil’sbro’ road, for Frank had been obliged by the cruel exigencies of the office to devote this magnificent frosty day to the last agonies of cram.  This, however, had gone on better for the last fortnight—­owing, perhaps, to some relaxation of Eleonora’s stern guard over her countenance in their few meetings since Jenny’s departure.

“And after all,” as Charlie said, with the cheeriness of one who has passed his own ordeal, “a man who had taken such a degree as Frank could not depend on a few weeks of mere cramming.”

Frank did come speedily up the road just as the quadrille was in full force; and perhaps the hindrance had stood him in good stead; for when the performance ceased in the twilight, and voices were eagerly talking of renewing it as a fackel-tanz in the later evening, and only yielding at the recollection of dinner engagements, it was not Charlie who was taking off Eleonora’s skates; and when, after fixing grand plans for the morrow, Lady Tyrrell mounted her pony-carriage and looked for her sister, she heard that Miss Vivian was walking home.

Yes, Miss Vivian was walking home; and there was a companion by her side feeling as if that dark, hard gravelled road were the pebbly beach of Rockpier.

“When do you go to London?” she asked.

“To-morrow afternoon.  Wish me well through, Lenore.”

“Indeed I do.”

“Say it again, Lenore!  Give me the elixir that will give me power to conquer everything.”

“Don’t say such exaggerated things.”

“Do you think it is possible to me to exaggerate what a word from you is to me?” said Frank, in a low voice of intense feeling.

“O Frank! it is wiser not to say such things.”

“Wise! what is that to me?  It is true, and you have known it—­and why will you not allow that you do, as in those happy old days—­”

“That’s what makes me fear.  It would be so much better for you if all this had never begun.”

“It has begun, then!” murmured Frank, with joy and triumph in the sound.  “As long as you allow that, it is enough for me.”

“I must!  It is true; and truth must be somewhere!” was whispered in a strange, low, resolute whisper.

“True! true that you can feel one particle of the intensity—­Oh! what words can I find to make you understand the glow and tenderness the very thought of you has been!”