“I thank you, Edwin; but there are others who are more anxious to learn than I, and you had better teach them first.”

“But I want to teach you.  When I wish to teach them I will go to them.”

“You did go to several others before you thought of coming to me,” answered Jane, pretending to be piqued.  Now that was the unkindest thing I ever knew a girl to do—­refuse me what she knew I so wanted, and then put the refusal on the pretended ground that I did not care much about it.  I so told her, and she saw she had carried things too far, and that I was growing angry in earnest.  She then made another false, though somewhat flattering, excuse: 

“I could not bear to go through that dance before so large a company.  I should not object so much if no one else could see—­that is, with you—­Edwin.”  “Edwin!” Oh! so soft and sweet!  The little jade! to think that she could hoodwink me so easily, and talk me into a good humor with her soft, purring “Edwin.”  I saw through it all quickly enough, and left her without another word.  In a few minutes she went into an adjoining room where I knew she was alone.  The door was open and the music could be heard there, so I followed.

“My lady, there is no one to see us here; I can teach you now, if you wish,” said I.

She saw she was cornered, and replied, with a toss of her saucy little head:  “But what if I do not wish?”

Now this was more than I could endure with patience, so I answered:  “My young lady, you shall ask me before I teach you.”

“There are others who can dance it much better than you,” she returned, without looking at me.

“If you allow another to teach you that dance,” I responded, “you will have seen the last of me.”  She had made me angry, and I did not speak to her for more than a week.  When I did—­but I will tell you of that later on.  There was one thing about Jane and the new step:  so long as she did not know it, she would not dance it with any other man, and foolish as my feeling may have been, I could not bear the thought of her doing it.  I resolved that if she permitted another man to teach her that dance it should be all over between us.  It was a terrible thought to me, that of losing Jane, and it came like a very stroke upon my heart.  I would think of her sweet little form, so compact and graceful; of her gray, calm eyes, so full of purity and mischief; of her fair oval face, almost pale, and wonder if I could live without the hope of her.  I determined, however, that if she learned the new dance with any other man I would throw that hope to the winds, whether I lived or died.  St. George!  I believe I should have died.

The evening was devoted to learning the new dance, and I saw Mary busily engaged imparting information among the ladies.  As we were about to disperse I heard her say to Brandon: 

“You have greatly pleased the king by bringing him a new amusement.  He asked me where I learned it, and I told him you had taught it to Caskoden, and that I had it from him.  I told Caskoden so that he can tell the same story.”