My Lady Carteret’s ball was a brilliant success, and, fairest where all were fair, Harrie Hunsden shone down all competitors.  As she floated down the long ball-room on the arm of Lord Ernest, light as a swimming-sprite, a hundred admiring male eyes followed, and a hundred fair patrician bosoms throbbed with bitterest envy.

“The little Hunsden is in full feather to-night,” lisped George Grosvenor, coming up with his adored Lady Louise on his arm.  “There is nothing half so beautiful in the room, with one exception.  And only look at Kingsland!  Oh, he’s done for, to a dead certainty!”

Sir Everard started up rather confusedly.  He had been leaning against a pillar, gazing after the divinity in the ivy crown, with his heart in his eyes, and Lady Louise was the last person in the universe he had been thinking of.

“We are losing our waltz, Mr. Grosvenor,” she said, frigidly, “and we are disturbing Sir Everard Kingsland.  The ‘Guards’ Waltz’ is a great deal too delightful to be missed.”

“I fancied the first waltz was to be mine, Lady Louise,” Sir Everard said, with an awful sense of guilt.

Lady Louise’s blue eyes flashed fire.

“With Miss Hunsden, perhaps—­certainly not with me.  Come, Mr. Grosvenor.”

It was the first spiteful shaft Lady Louise had ever condescended to launch, and she bit her lip angrily an instant after, as George whirled her away.

“Idiot that I am,” she thought, “to show him I can stoop to be piqued—­to show him I can be jealous—­to show him I care for him like this!  He will get to fancy I love him next, and he—­he has had neither eyes nor ears for any one else since he saw Harrie Hunsden this morning.”

A sharp, quick pain pierced the proud breast of the earl’s daughter, for she did love him, and she knew it—­as much as it was in her lymphatic nature to love at all.

“I will never forgive him—­never!” her white teeth clinched.  “The dastard—­to play the devoted to me, and then desert me at the first sight of a madcap on horseback.  I will never stoop to say one civil word to him again.”

Lady Louise kept her vow.  Sir Everard, penitent and remorseful, strove to make his peace in vain.

Lord Carteret’s daughter listened icily, sent barbed shafts tipped with poison from her tongue in reply, danced with him once, and steadily refused to dance again.

Sir Everard gave it up and went in search of Miss Hunsden, and was accepted by that young lady for a redowa.

“I thought you would have asked me ages ago,” said Harrie, with delicious frankness.  “I saw you were a good dancer, and that is more than I can say for any other gentleman present, except Lord Ernest.  Ah, Lord Ernest can waltz!  It is the height of ball-room bliss to be his partner.  But you stayed away to quarrel with Lady Louise, I suppose?”

“I have not been quarreling with Lady Louise,” replied, Sir Everard, feeling guiltily conscious all the same.