But they noted neither praise nor detraction: they saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing, but themselves and the other music, till two valsers _a deux temps_ plunged into them. Thus smartly reminded they had not earth all to themselves, they laughed good-humouredly and paused. “Ah! I am happy!” gushed from Julia. She hushed at herself, and said severely, “You dance very well, sir.” This was said to justify her unguarded admission, and did, after a fashion. “I think it is time to go to mamma,” said she demurely. “So soon? And I had so much to say to you.” “Oh, very well. I am all attention.” The sudden facility offered set Alfred stammering a little. “I wanted to apologise to you for something--you are so good you seem to have forgotten it--but I dare not hope that--I mean at Henley--when the beauty of your character, and your goodness, so overpowered me, that a fatal impulse----” “What do you mean, sir?” said Julia, looking him full in the face, like an offended lion, while, with true feminine and Julian inconsistency her bosom fluttered like a dove. “I never exchanged one word with you in my life before to-day; and I never shall again if you pretend the contrary.” Alfred stood stupified, and looked at her in piteous amazement. “I value your acquaintance highly, Mr. Hardie, now I have made it, as acquaintances are made; but please to observe, I never saw you before--scarcely; not even in church.” “As you please,” said he, recovering his wits in part. “What you say I'll swear to.” “Then I say, never remind a lady of what you ought to wish her to forget.” “I was a fool, and you are an angel of tact and goodness.” “Oh, now I am sure it is time to join mamma,” said she in the driest, drollest way. _“Valsons._” They waltzed down to Mrs. Dodd, exchanging hearts at every turn, and they took a good many in the space of a round table, for in truth both were equally loth to part. At two o'clock Mrs. Dodd resumed common-place views of a daughter's health, and rose to go. Her fly had played her false, and, being our island home, it rained buckets. Alfred ran, before they could stop him, and caught a fly. He was dripping. Mrs. Dodd expressed her regrets; he told her it did not matter; for him the ball was now over, the flowers faded, and the lights darkness visible. “The extravagance of these children!” said Mrs. Dodd to Julia, with a smile, as soon as he was out of hearing. Julia made no reply. Next day she was at evening church: the congregation was very sparse. The first glance revealed Alfred Hardie standing in the very next pew. He wore a calm front of conscious rectitude; under which peeped sheep-faced misgivings as to the result of this advance; for, like all true lovers, he was half impudence, half timidity; and both on the grand scale.