Camilla danced well and so did Jim, and many an eye followed them as they wound in and out through the other dancers.  When the dance was over he led her to a seat and sat beside her.  They had much to talk of.  Camilla was anxious to hear of Pearl, and it seemed all at once that they had become very good friends indeed.

The second dance was a waltz.  Tom did not know that it was the music that stirred his soul with a sudden tenderness, a longing indefinite, that was full of pain and yet was all sweetness.  Martha who sat near him looked at him half expectantly.  But her little gray face and twitching hands repelled him.  On the other side of the room, Nellie Slater, flushed and smiling was tapping her foot to the music.

He found himself on his feet.  “Who cares for mats?” he muttered.  He was beside Nellie in an instant.

“Nellie, will you dance with me?” he faltered, wondering at his own temerity.

“I will, Tom, with pleasure,” she said, smiling.

His arm was around her now and they were off, one, two, three; one, two, three; yes, he had the step.  “Over the foam we glide,” in and out through the other dancers, the violins weaving that story of love never ending.  “What though the world be wide”—­Nellie’s head was just below his face—­“Love’s golden star will guide.”  Nellie’s hand was in his as they floated on the rainbow-sea.  “Drifting along, glad is our song”—­her hair blew against his cheek as they swept past the open door.  What did he care what his mother would say.  He was Egbert now.  Edythe was in his arms.  “While we are side by side” the violins sang, glad, triumphant, that old story that runs like a thread of gold through all life’s patterns; that old song, old yet ever new, deathless, unchangeable, which maketh the poor man rich and without which the richest becomes poor!

When the music stopped, Tom awoke from his idolatrous dream.  He brought Nellie to a seat and sat awkwardly beside her.  His old self-complacency had left him.  Nellie was talking to him, but he did not hear what she said.  He was not looking at her, but at himself.  Before he knew it she had left him and was dancing with Jim Russell.  Tom looked after them, miserable.  She was looking into Jim’s face, smiling and talking.  What the mischief were they saying?  He tried to tell himself that he could buy and sell Jim Russell; Jim had not anything in the world but a quarter of scrub land.  They passed him again, still smiling and talking.  “Nellie Slater is making herself mighty cheap,” he thought angrily.  Then the thought came home to him with sudden bitterness—­how handsome Jim was, so straight and tall, so well-dressed, so clever, and, bitterest of all, how different from him.

When Jim and Camilla were sitting out the second dance he told her about Arthur, the Englishman, who sat in a corner, shy and uncomfortable.  Camilla became interested at once, and when he brought Arthur over and introduced him, Camilla’s friendly smile set him at his ease.  Then Jim generously vacated his seat and went to find Nellie Slater.