“Bertie Winthrop, who was at Harvard with Walter, says that when they were students and had their stag parties if they could catch Walter in what Bertie calls ‘a gay mood,’ he would astonish them with his wonderful dancing. Bertie vows that Walter can dance any kind of thing from a vulgar gig to an exquisite ballet, but he is so awfully modest about it that he denies Bertie’s story and will not dance anything but the conventional,” continued Lucy. “Take a turn, Jack!” called Burton as he and his partner swept by the corner where the sailor and his cousin were seated, and added as he passed, “It is your last chance for some time.” “Come on, Jack,” cried Lucy springing up and extending her hands. A moment more and Jack was holding near his bosom the woman for whom his heart would beat until death should still it forever. Oft midst the howling winds and angry waves, when storm tossed on the sea, will Jack dream o’er again the heavenly bliss of those few moments when close to his heart rested she who was the beacon light of his sailor’s soul. When the music of the waltz ended, Jack and his fair partner found themselves just in front of the settee where John Dunlap and Mrs. Church were seated. “Uncle John, I have been trying to induce Jack to stay ashore until after my wedding,” said Lucy addressing Mr. John Dunlap who had been following her and her partner with his eyes, in which was a pained expression, as they had circled about the room. “Won’t you help me, Uncle John?” added the young woman in that pleading seductive tone that always brought immediate surrender on the part of both her grandfather and granduncle. “I am afraid, Lucy, that I can’t aid you this time,” replied the old gentleman and there was so much seriousness in his sunburnt face that Lucy exclaimed anxiously: “Why? What is the matter that the house must send Cousin Jack away almost as soon as he gets home?” “Nothing is the matter, dear, but it is an opportunity for your cousin to make an advancement in his profession, and you must not be selfish in thinking only of your own happiness, my child. You know men must work and women must wait,” replied her uncle. “Oh! Is that it? Then I must resign myself with good grace to the disappointment. I would not for the world have any whim of mine mar dear old Jack’s prospects,” and Lucy clasped both of her dimpled white hands affectionately on her cousin’s arm, which she still retained after the waltz ended, as she uttered these sentiments. “I know Jack would make any sacrifice for me if I really insisted.” “I am sure that he would, Lucy, so don’t insist,” said John Dunlap very seriously and positively. Just then Burton began singing a mournfully sweet song, full of sadness and pathos, accompanying himself on a guitar that had been lying on the music stand. All conversation ceased. Every one turned to look at the singer. What a mellow, rich voice had Walter Burton. What expression he put into the music and words!