Just as Mr. Clarence Colfax, resplendent in new evening clothes just arrived from New York, was pressing his claim for the first dance with his cousin in opposition to numerous other claims, the chatter of the guests died away.  Virginia turned her head, and for an instant the pearls trembled on her neck.  There was a young man cordially and unconcernedly shaking hands with her father and Captain Lige.  Her memory of that moment is, strangely, not of his face (she did not deign to look at that), but of the muscle of his shoulder half revealed as he stretched forth his arm.

Young Mr. Colfax bent over to her ear.

“Virginia,” he whispered earnestly, almost fiercely, Virginia, who invited him here?”

“I did,” said Virginia, calmly, “of course.  Who invites any one here?”

“But!” cried Clarence, “do you know who he is?”

“Yes,” she answered, “I know.  And is that any reason why he should not come here as a guest?  Would you bar any gentleman from your house on account of his convictions?”

Ah, Virginia, who had thought to hear that argument from your lips?  What would frank Captain Lige say of the consistency of women, if he heard you now?  And how give an account of yourself to Anne Brinsmade?  What contrariness has set you so intense against your own argument?

Before one can answer this, before Mr. Clarence can recover from his astonishment and remind her of her vehement words on the subject at Bellegarde, Mr. Stephen is making thither with the air of one who conquers.  Again the natural contrariness of women.  What bare-faced impudence!  Has he no shame that he should hold his head so high?  She feels her color mounting, even as her resentment rises at his self-possession, and yet she would have despised him had he shown self-consciousness in gait or manner in the sight of her assembled guests.  Nearly as tall as the Colonel himself, he is plainly seen, and Miss Puss in her corner does not have to stand on tiptoe.  Mr. Carvel does the honors of the introduction.

But a daughter of the Carvels was not to fail before such a paltry situation as this.  Shall it be confessed that curiosity stepped into the breach?  As she gave him her hand she was wondering how he would act.

As a matter of fact he acted detestably.  He said nothing whatever, but stood regarding her with a clear eye and a face by far too severe.  The thought that he was meditating on the incident of the auction sale crossed through her mind, and made her blood simmer.  How dared he behave so!  The occasion called for a little small talk.  An evil spirit took possession of Virginia.  She turned.

“Mr. Brice, do you know my cousin, Mr. Colfax?” she said.

Mr. Brice bowed.  “I know Mr. Colfax by sight,” he replied.

Then Mr. Colfax made a stiff bow.  To this new phase his sense of humor did not rise.  Mr. Brice was a Yankee and no gentleman, inasmuch as he had overbid a lady for Hester.