The strains of the Jenny Lind waltz were beginning to float through the rooms.  There was Miss Virginia in a corner of the big parlor, for the moment alone with her cousin.  And thither Stephen sternly strode.  Not a sign did she give of being aware of his presence until he stood before her.  Even then she did not lift her eyes.  But she said:  “So you have come at last to try again, Mr. Brice?”

And Mr. Brice said:  “If you will do me the honor, Miss Carvel.”

She did not reply at once.  Clarence Colfax got to his feet.  Then she looked up at the two men as they stood side by side, and perhaps swept them both in an instant’s comparison.

The New Englander’s face must have reminded her more of her own father, Colonel Carvel.  It possessed, from generations known, the power to control itself.  She afterwards admitted that she accepted him to tease Clarence.  Miss Russell, whose intuitions are usually correct, does not believe this.

“I will dance with you,” said Virginia.

But, once in his arms, she seemed like a wild thing, resisting.  Although her gown brushed his coat, the space between them was infinite, and her hand lay limp in his, unresponsive of his own pressure.  Not so her feet; they caught the step and moved with the rhythm of the music, and round the room they swung.  More than one pair paused in the dance to watch them.  Then, as they glided past the door, Stephen was disagreeably conscious of some one gazing down from above, and he recalled Eliphalet Hopper and his position.  The sneer from Eliphalet’s seemed to penetrate like a chilly draught.

All at once, Virginia felt her partner gathering up his strength, and by some compelling force, more of wild than of muscle, draw her nearer.  Unwillingly her hand tightened under his, and her blood beat faster and her color came and went as they two moved as one.  Anger—­helpless anger —­took possession of her as she saw the smiles on the faces of her friends, and Puss Russell mockingly throwing a kiss as she passed her.  And then, strange in the telling, a thrill as of power rose within her which she strove against in vain.  A knowledge of him who guided her so swiftly, so unerringly, which she had felt with no other man.  Faster and faster they stepped, each forgetful of self and place, until the waltz came suddenly to a stop.

“By gum!” said Captain Lige to Judge Whipple, “you can whollop me on my own forecastle if they ain’t the handsomest couple I ever did see.”

THE CRISIS

By Winston Churchill

BOOK II.

Volume 3.

CHAPTER I

RAW MATERIAL