About this time she also gave a party—not a pure-minded conversazione like Mrs. Proudie, but a downright wicked worldly dance, at which there were fiddles, ices, and champagne sufficient to run away with the first quarter’s salary accruing to Harold from the Petty Bag Office. To us this ball is chiefly memorable from the fact that Lady Lufton was among the guests. Immediately on her arrival in town she received cards from Mrs. H. Smith for herself and Griselda, and was about to send back a reply at once declining the honour. What had she to do at the house of Mr. Sowerby’s sister? But it so happened that at that moment her son was with her, and as he expressed a wish that she should go, she yielded. Had there been nothing in his tone of persuasion more than ordinary,—had it merely had reference to herself,—she would have smiled on him for his kind solicitude, have made out some occasion for kissing his forehead as she thanked him, and would still have declined. But he had reminded her both of himself and Griselda. “You might as well go, mother, for the sake of meeting me,” he said; “Mrs. Harold caught me the other day, and would not liberate me till I had given her a promise.” “That is an attraction certainly,” said Lady Lufton. “I do like going to a house when I know that you will be there.” “And now that Miss Grantly is with you—you owe it to her to do the best you can for her.” “I certainly do, Ludovic; and I have to thank you for reminding me of my duty so gallantly.” And so she said that she would go to Mrs. Harold Smith’s. Poor lady! She gave much more weight to those few words about Miss Grantly than they deserved. It rejoiced her heart to think that her son was anxious to meet Griselda—that he should perpetrate this little _ruse_ in order to gain his wish. But he had spoken out of the mere emptiness of his mind, without thought of what he was saying, excepting that he wished to please his mother. But nevertheless he went to Mrs. Harold Smith’s, and when there he did dance more than once with Griselda Grantly—to the manifest discomfiture of Lord Dumbello. He came in late, and at the moment Lord Dumbello was moving slowly up the room, with Griselda on his arm, while Lady Lufton was sitting near looking on with unhappy eyes. And then Griselda sat down, and Lord Dumbello stood mute at her elbow. “Ludovic,” whispered his mother, “Griselda is absolutely bored by that man, who follows her like a ghost. Do go and rescue her.”