After supper the Lieutenant and Naida danced twice together, the young girl’s mood having apparently changed to one of buoyant, careless happiness, her dark eyes smiling, her lips uttering freely whatever thought came uppermost.  Outwardly she pictured the gay and merry spirit of the night, yet to Brant, already observing her with the jealousy of a lover, she appeared distrait and restless, her affectation of abandon a mere mask to her true feelings.  There was a peculiar watchfulness in her glances about the crowded room, while her flushed cheeks, and the distinctly false note in her laughter, began to trouble him not a little.  Perhaps these things might have passed unnoted but for their contrast with the late confidential chat.

He could not reconcile this sudden change with what he believed of her.  It was not carried out with the practised art of one accustomed to deceit.  There must be something real influencing her action.  These misgivings burdened his mind even as he swung lightly with her to the music, and they talked together in little snatches.

He had forgotten Miss Spencer, forgotten everything else about him, permitting himself to become enthralled by this strange girl whose name even he did not know.  In every way she had appealed to his imagination, awakening his interest, his curiosity, his respect, and even now, when some secret seemed to sway her conduct, it merely served to strengthen his resolve to advance still farther in her regard.  There are natures which welcome strife; they require opposition, difficulty, to develop their real strength.  Brant was of this breed.  The very conception that some person, even some inanimate thing, might stand between him and the heart of this fair woman acted upon him like a stimulant.

The last of the two waltzes ended, they walked slowly through the scattering throng, he striving vainly to arouse her to the former independence and intimacy of speech.  While endeavoring bravely to exhibit interest, her mind too clearly wandered, and there was borne in slowly upon him the distasteful idea that she would prefer being left alone.  Brant had been secretly hoping it might become his privilege to escort her home, but now he durst not breathe the words of such a request.  Something indefinable had arisen between them which held the man dumb and nerveless.  Suddenly they came face to face with Mrs. Herndon, and Brant felt the girl’s arm twitch.

“I have been looking everywhere for you, Naida,” Mrs. Herndon said, a slight complaint in her voice.  “We were going home.”

Naida’s cheeks reddened painfully.

“I am so sorry if I have kept you waiting,” her words spoken with a rush, “but—­but, Lieutenant Brant was intending to accompany me.  We were just starting for the cloak-room.”

“Oh, indeed!” Mrs. Herndon’s expression was noncommittal, while her eyes surveyed the lieutenant.

“With your permission, of course,” he said.