Never did a misdemeanist take his “six weeks” with a more complete consciousness of penalty than did Polly sit down to that piano. She well understood it as a sentence, and, let me own, submitted well and gracefully to her fate. Nor was it, after all, such a slight trial, for the fandango was her own speciality; she had herself brought the dance and the music to Cobham. They who were about to dance it were her own pupils, and not very proficient ones, either. And with all this she did her part well and loyally. Never had she played with more spirit; never marked the time with a firmer precision; never threw more tenderness into the graceful parts, nor more of triumphant daring into the proud ones. Amid the shower of “Bravos!” that closed the performance,--for none thought of the dancers,--the little Poet drew nigh and whispered, “How naughty!” “Why so?” asked she, innocently. “What a blaze of light to throw over a sorry picture!” said he, dangling his eyeglass, and playing that part of middle-aged Cupid he was so fond of assuming. “Do you know, sir,” said Lady Cobham, coming hastily towards him, “that I will not permit you to turn the heads of my young ladies? Dr. Dill is already so afraid of your fascinations that he has ordered his carriage,--is it not so?” she went on appealing to the doctor, with increased rapidity. “But you will certainly keep your promise to us. We shall expect you on Thursday at dinner.” Overwhelmed with confusion, Dill answered--he knew not what--about pleasure, punctuality, and so forth; and then turned away to ring for that carriage he had not ordered before. “And so you tell me Barrington is better?” said the Admiral, taking him by the arm and leading him away. “The danger is over, then?” “I believe so; his mind is calm, and he is only suffering now from debility. What with the Assizes, and a week's dissipation at Kilkenny, and this shock,--for it was a shock,--the whole thing was far more of a mental than a bodily ailment.” “You gave him my message? You said how anxious I felt to know if I could be of any use to him?” “Yes; and he charged Mr. Withering to come and thank you, for he is passing by Cobham to-morrow on his way to Kilkenny.” “Indeed! Georgiana, don't forget that. Withering will call here to-morrow; try and keep him to dine, at least, if we cannot secure him for longer. He's one of those fellows I am always delighted to meet Where are you going, Dill? Not taking your daughter away at this hour, are you?”