Preston was advancing toward Kate, when a buzz of admiration announced that Major Lindsay was about to lead her forth to the minuet. He won accordingly only a hasty curtsey in reply to his bow. He was meanwhile subjected to the mortification of hearing from a dozen bystanders the rumor of Kate’s engagement to the major; and one or two officiously applied to him to confirm the rumor, knowing his intimacy with the family. When the dance was concluded, which attracted general admiration, Major Lindsay still remained at Kate’s side. Never before had Preston noticed such meaning and delicate assiduity in his attentions. Between the incidents of the morning and those of the evening, no wonder Preston’s anger continued unabated. Still he made several attempts to obtain a moment’s _tête-à-tête_ with Kate: but the crowd of her admirers frustrated this. At length, toward the close of the ball, he approached her. “I come to bid you farewell,” he said abruptly; “to-morrow I leave Charleston.” “Leave Charleston!” repeated a dozen voices in dismay. “What shall we do without you?” Kate alone betrayed neither surprise nor emotion. “Ah! indeed,” was her unconcerned reply. Preston turned pale with suppressed mortification at this indifference; mere friendship, he said to himself, demanded some expression of regret at least. His feelings were not allayed by what followed. “You’re not going to join Marion, are you?” said Major Lindsay, in a tone of triumphant banter, little imagining how near he was to the truth. “Has he frightened you by the great oath he has sworn to revenge his nephew, who was shot for a rebel? I hear he threatens some mighty deed. Only think of his doing any thing with that brigade of invincible tatterdemalions—Falstaff’s ragged regiment over again!” “Take care that you are not one of those to pay the penalty of Marion’s oath,” retorted Preston, stung by the insolence of his successful rival, and reckless what he said. “It was a foul deed, and will be terribly revenged.” Major Lindsay flushed to the brow, and his hand mechanically sought his sword hilt; but he controlled himself immediately, and said with a sneer— “That might be called sedition, only we know you are a man of peace, Mr. Preston. But he is certainly Marion-bit, is he not?” and he turned to Kate. Now Kate felt piqued at this unceremonious leave of her lover, as well as at his haughty conduct in the morning. She fancied herself trifled with, and answered cuttingly, “Never fear Mr. Preston’s joining Marion. Our American gentlemen, on both sides, are but carpet knights of late. They resemble Sancho Panza, who, good soul, would not stir a step till a rich island was promised for his share.” Preston tingled in every vein at this speech, which he regarded as aimed at himself. He bowed sarcastically to Kate, and glanced angrily at Major Lindsay, as he replied,