‘I must get that out of her,’ she said to herself.  ’She’s bound to give it up.  Wait till I get her fairly into the German!’

And so far she succeeded.  Miss Kennedy did get ’fairly in,’—­ but as yet the rest of the plan had failed.  Hazel danced, and led, and followed, in the wildest gaiety, within certain limits; beyond them she would not go; meeting all Kitty Fisher’s proposals with a look of incredulous disgust and surprise that generally cut short the business for that time.  And gentlemen who stood by laughed and applauded; and if Hazel had known just why they clapped hands, and just what she was avoiding, she would have wanted to stand no longer in their neighbourhood just then.

Balls followed dinners, and one German came close on the heels of another, with pic-nics, boating parties, croquet parties, and open-air breakfasts; and everywhere the young queen held her court; with beauty, and grace, and money, and a faultless toilet.

Now in the selfishness of this self-seeking world, our interest in a thing, our judgment of it, does very much depend upon its connection with ourselves.  Have we any shares in the field for sale?—­if not, why, manage it as you will, sunshine and clouds are alike to us.  But if we have, the interest of the matter changes at once, and we are blind no more.

Following upon sundry other festivities came a brilliant German at Mme. Lasalle’s.  Thither came everybody, in proper time; thither, rather late, and fresh-returned from his journey, came Mr. Rollo; and making his way easily along, through rooms ablaze with light and almost faint with flowers, he reached a point where ‘The Thread of Destiny’ was in full progress, tangling itself up about Wych Hazel.  It was impossible not to make her the centre of the group, though six ladies stood there together; and about them all, one end of a long white ribband in his hand, danced Mr. Nightingale—­not saying, exactly—­

’I wind, I wind,
Hoping my true love to find’—­

but perhaps thinking it in his heart; for when coil after coil had gone round the blooming prisoners, and the white sheen came suddenly to an end at Wych Hazel, it was with very evident satisfaction that Mr. Nightingale took her hand and led her out—­his partner by the thread of destiny.

Nothing could be prettier than she was through it all; neither giggling nor smirking, nor making remarks like Miss Powder and the rest; her lovely shoulders veiled beyond all reach of criticism, her eyes intent upon the ribband, her thoughts intent upon the game.  So that when all came to a climax at her, she laughed right out—­the merriest laugh of glee and satisfaction.  Very pretty!—­was it anything more?  Do you (apart from dancing) give your daintiest possessions into common hands?  Why, you will not let a servant even dust the china shepherdess on your mantel-piece!—­but any hands that you know—­ and any that you don’t know—­may touch and clasp and support the young daughters and sisters of your love, and whirl them about the room, as you would not have your shepherdess treated for all the world.