“Oh, do you think so?” cried Anne.  “I shall call on her to-morrow, with mother.  Do you know, Mr. Brice,” she continued, “do you know that your mother is just the person I should go to if I were in trouble, whether I knew her or not?”

“I have found her a good person in trouble,” said Stephen, simply.  He might have said the same of Anne.

Anne was enchanted.  She had thought him cold, but these words belied that.  She had wrapped him in that diaphanous substance with which young ladies (and sometimes older ones) are wont to deck their heroes.  She had approached a mystery—­to find it human, as are many mysteries.  But thank heaven that she found a dignity, a seriousness,—­and these more than satisfied her.  Likewise, she discovered something she had not looked for, an occasional way of saying things that made her laugh.  She danced with him, and passed him back to Miss Puss Russell, who was better pleased this time; she passed him on to her sister, who also danced with him, and sent him upstairs for her handkerchief.

Nevertheless, Stephen was troubled.  As the evening wore on, he was more and more aware of an uncompromising attitude in his young hostess, whom he had seen whispering to various young ladies from behind her fan as they passed her.  He had not felt equal to asking her to dance a second time.  Honest Captain Lige Breast, who seemed to have taken a fancy to him, bandied him on his lack of courage with humor that was a little rough.  And, to Stephen’s amazement, even Judge Whipple had pricked him on.

It was on his way upstairs after Emily Russell’s handkerchief that he ran across another acquaintance.  Mr. Eliphalet Hopper, in Sunday broadcloth, was seated on the landing, his head lowered to the level of the top of the high door of the parlor.  Stephen caught a glimpse of the picture whereon his eyes were fixed.  Perhaps it is needless to add that Miss Virginia Carvel formed the central figure of it.

“Enjoy in’ yourself?” asked Mr. Hopper.

Stephen countered.

“Are you?” he asked.

“So so,” said Mr. Hopper, and added darkly:  “I ain’t in no hurry.  Just now they callate I’m about good enough to manage the business end of an affair like this here.  I guess I can wait.  But some day,” said he, suddenly barring Stephen’s way, “some day I’ll give a party.  And hark to me when I tell you that these here aristocrats ’ll be glad enough to get invitations.”

Stephen pushed past coldly.  This time the man made him shiver.  The incident was all that was needed to dishearten and disgust him.  Kindly as he had been treated by others, far back in his soul was a thing that rankled.  Shall it be told crudely why he went that night?  Stephen Brice, who would not lie to others, lied to himself.  And when he came downstairs again and presented Miss Emily with her handkerchief, his next move was in his mind.  And that was to say good-night to the Colonel, and more frigidly to Miss Carvel herself.  But music has upset many a man’s calculations.