And he did “smile around a little,” and got as near to her as he could to watch the effect, but the scheme was a failure—­he could not get her attention.  She seemed wholly unconscious of him, and so he could not flirt with any spirit; he could only talk disjointedly; he could not keep his eyes on the charmers he talked to; he grew irritable, jealous, and very, unhappy.  He gave up his enterprise, leaned his shoulder against a fluted pilaster and pouted while he kept watch upon Laura’s every movement.  His other shoulder stole the bloom from many a lovely cheek that brushed him in the surging crush, but he noted it not.  He was too busy cursing himself inwardly for being an egotistical imbecile.  An hour ago he had thought to take this country lass under his protection and show her “life” and enjoy her wonder and delight—­and here she was, immersed in the marvel up to her eyes, and just a trifle more at home in it than he was himself.  And now his angry comments ran on again: 

“Now she’s sweetening old Brother Balaam; and he—­well he is inviting her to the Congressional prayer-meeting, no doubt—­better let old Dilworthy alone to see that she doesn’t overlook that.  And now its Splurge, of New York; and now its Batters of New Hampshire—­and now the Vice President!  Well I may as well adjourn.  I’ve got enough.”

But he hadn’t.  He got as far as the door—­and then struggled back to take one more look, hating himself all the while for his weakness.

Toward midnight, when supper was announced, the crowd thronged to the supper room where a long table was decked out with what seemed a rare repast, but which consisted of things better calculated to feast the eye than the appetite.  The ladies were soon seated in files along the wall, and in groups here and there, and the colored waiters filled the plates and glasses and the, male guests moved hither and thither conveying them to the privileged sex.

Harry took an ice and stood up by the table with other gentlemen, and listened to the buzz of conversation while he ate.

From these remarks he learned a good deal about Laura that was news to him.  For instance, that she was of a distinguished western family; that she was highly educated; that she was very rich and a great landed heiress; that she was not a professor of religion, and yet was a Christian in the truest and best sense of the word, for her whole heart was devoted to the accomplishment of a great and noble enterprise—­none other than the sacrificing of her landed estates to the uplifting of the down-trodden negro and the turning of his erring feet into the way of light and righteousness.  Harry observed that as soon as one listener had absorbed the story, he turned about and delivered it to his next neighbor and the latter individual straightway passed it on.  And thus he saw it travel the round of the gentlemen and overflow rearward among the ladies.  He could not trace it backward to its fountain head, and so he could not tell who it was that started it.