"Now, sit down again, and tell me how the headache is," she exclaimed, sinking herself into the cushioned recess, and drawing her skirts aside to make room for me. "See, I've brought you my favourite smelling-salts, and I have some sal volatile in my pocket. I mustn't doctor you before all these people, though! And now for the question I'm dying to ask. Shall you be able to waltz?" "Come and see," I said, rising and offering her my arm, for an exodus was already taking place from the room. "It's awfully good of you, Lady Olive, to remember my headache," I added, gratefully. She tapped my fingers with her fan. "Don't make speeches, sir. What a grand old place this is, isn't it?" We were to dance in the armour gallery, and the whole party were making their way there now. The magnificent staircase, bordered with massive black oak balustrades, up which we were passing, descended into the middle of the hall, and was supported by solid black marble pillars; and the corridor, which ran at right angles to it, was lighted by stained-glass windows, in front of each of which armoured knights were grimly keeping watch. One corridor led into another, all of noble dimensions, with high oriel windows, and lined by a silent ghostly guard of steel-clad warriors and polished marble statues. A strange contrast they seemed to the gay laughing procession of girls, in their low-necked dinner dresses and flashing diamonds, and men in their mess jackets and evening coats. Maud alone, moving with the slow, stately grace of a princess of former days, seemed in keeping with our surroundings. Soon the sound of violins reached us, and, pushing aside the heavy curtains, we descended two steps and stood in the armour gallery. Maud's imagination and many nimble fingers had been busy here, and at first I scarcely knew the place. Fairy lights with various coloured shades hung from the mailed gloves of many generations of Devereux, and the black oak floor was shining with a polish beyond its own. But no fairy lights or bracketed candles could dispel the gloom which hung about the long lofty gallery, with its vaulted roof black with age, and its panelled walls hung with the martial trophies of every age and every land. And yet it was a gloom which seemed in keeping with the place, and no one found it oppressive. I danced with Lady Olive, and then, as we stood talking in the shade of one of my armoured forefathers, Captain Hasleton came up and claimed her, and I was left alone. Nearly opposite me was Maud, standing like an exquisite picture in the softened light of one of the stained-glass windows. But I did not go to her at once. Several men were talking to her, and she was answering them with the languid air of one who finds it hard to be amused, and her blue eyes more than once travelled past them and looked into mine indifferently, but still with a meaning in them. At last I crossed the room and stood before her.