Dorian Branscombe climbs into his dog-cart, and drives swiftly homeward, under the glistening stars, whose "beauty makes unhappy,"--his mind filled with many thoughts. "'My love, my pearl!'"--the words of Georgie's song haunt him incessantly, and ring their changes on his brain. "What words could be more appropriate, more suited to her?" (Alas, when we come to pronouns it is generally all over with us!) "A pearl! so fair! so pure! so solitary! It just expressed her. By what right has Fate cast that pretty child upon the cruel world to take her chance, to live or die in it? "How large her eyes are, and what a heavenly blue, and what a sad expression lies within them! 'Grandmamma, grandmamma, what big eyes you have!'" Here he rouses himself, and laughs a little, and wishes, with some petulance, that he could put her out of his head. "'My love, my pearl!' Yes, it was a very pretty song, and haunts one somehow; but no doubt a good night's sleep will kill it. Hold up, you brute,"--this to the kind and patient mare, who is doing her good nine miles an hour, and who has mildly objected to a sharp stone. "Why didn't Clarissa introduce me to her? I wish to goodness I hadn't to go back to town to-morrow!" And so on, until he reaches Sartoris, and flings himself, with some impatience, out of the trap, to the amazement of his groom, who is accustomed to think of his master as a young man to whom exertion is impossible. Then he goes to bed, and spends the next four hours miserably, as he falls into a heavy slumber, and dreams that oysters, pearl-laden, are rushing boisterously over his body. CHAPTER XVI. "There was a sound of revelry by night."--BYRON. So Dorian returns to town, and stays there until the annual hunt ball, of which he is a steward, summons him back to Pullingham. It is, of course, the event of the season, this ball, and occurs early in March. Clarissa, going down to the vicarage,--where, now, indeed, she spends a good deal of her time,--speaks to the girls about it. "I am so glad Georgie is in time for it," says Cissy, who is a warm-hearted little soul, and who desires good for every one. "There is something so nice about a real big ball." "A ball!" says Georgie, growing a delicate pink, with excitement. "I never was at a real ball in my life. Oh, Clarissa, will you take me?" "Georgie! As if it isn't a real joy to me to have you," says Clarissa, reproachfully. "I can't bear going anywhere by myself, and Mrs. Grey always insists on taking Cissy." "Well, she is very kind, you know," says Cissy, with some regret. "But I do so wish she would let me go with _you_. However, mamma would not like me to refuse her, and, after all, I shall meet you both in the room. I wish we could manage to arrive just at the same moment." "Well, I'll settle that with Mrs. Grey," says Clarissa. "Dorian will get me a ticket for Georgie."