“Here! Here! We need you. Get your partners for the country reel.” Barclugh and Mollie stopped their confidences and laughed heartily at each other as they hurried to the refreshment table and returned with glee for the reel. The Comte danced with Anne Milling and led the couples out into the middle of the floor. Eight couples faced each other and the reel began. “First couple forward and back!” “Second couple the same!” The young now had their chance and the dowagers and the old macaronis filled up the ball-room and looked on with zest and zeal. Mrs. Arnold while dancing with her partner, Colonel Hamilton, could not keep her eyes from Roderick Barclugh and Mollie. She was simply desperate to think that her sister, Bessie, did not have Barclugh for her evening’s partner. She watched the expression on Barclugh’s face as he bowed and swung in the changes of the dance, and she was so preoccupied that when the Comte called: “First couple up and down the center!”--she did not recognize her partner’s bow until in self-defense Colonel Hamilton said: “Pardon me, Madam!” Startled with her inattention she blushed guiltily and took the proffered hand of Colonel Hamilton and promenaded up and down between the lines to the rhythm of the violins and the clapping of hands. As the turn for Mollie and Barclugh came, it was noticeable to all how Barclugh beamed with pride as he led Mollie, with her hand raised high, and in dainty step passed between the merry dancers. He bowed deferentially as they turned to retrace their steps. Mollie looked all aglow as she stood _vis-a-vis_ to Barclugh. There was intoxication in her manner, her face was illumined with success, but no one recognized this triumph of Mollie Greydon with such envy as Mrs. Arnold. She could not bear to think Barclugh was lost from _her_ influence. The reel concluded with the Comte bowing and courtesying to the onlookers as they applauded. He gave the call for the last figure: “All join hands forward and back!” “Salute!” “Swing!” Barclugh swung his partner with an abandon that Mollie could not resist, and then escorted her to Dr. Greydon. When Mollie had seated herself he finished the evening’s pleasure by saying to her: “The dance is the language of love.” CHAPTER III On the morning after the assembly Barclugh awoke as though from a dream. After leaving the French Minister’s mansion he went to his bachelor’s quarters on Front Street and sat in his chair trying to dispel the pictures of Mollie Greydon. Reason as he might--that she was a mere girl and he a man of the world, and he ought not to allow his fancy to dwell upon affairs of his heart when he had sterner duties to perform--still the image of that being who had awakened a new life for him clung to his brain and he could not forget it. It gave him no rest.