Now the fact was, that Sir Hawarth Fane was one of the worst characters in the county, but he was a single man of large property, and therefore very well received in most families. He had given some decided proofs of admiration for Harriet; but Sir Evan had always required her to receive them as coldly as possible. Even Mr. Singleton had often begged her "for God's sake never to dance with that fellow Hawarth Fane." Harriet received his homage as her due, had it been ten times more marked; treated him with the easy neglect she generally assumed towards her admirers, and never danced with him, for the single reason that he was forty years old, and had a red face. Margaret could only hope that he would not make his appearance, but soon a stout figure was seen to emerge from the doorway, and with his glass in his eye, to look eagerly about for some one. Mr. Gage looked as resolute as Harriet, and both turned their eyes in the direction of the advancing Baronet. Margaret was breathless. Harriet drew her handkerchief through the jewelled ring hanging to her bouquetière, and settled herself as if she meant to prepare for the next dance. It was quite clear, both to Mr. Gage and Margaret, that she had made up her mind. Mr. Gage looked like Creon, and Harriet like Antigone--neither spoke. Sir Hawarth who had been blundering about the room with his eye-glass, very much like a person who had sat a good deal too long after dinner, now caught sight of Harriet, and steered his course in her direction. Mr. Gage leaned over Margaret, and whispered to her: "Miss Capel, the man is a thorough blackguard; he shall not dance with Harriet. If you cannot prevent it--I _will_." Margaret looked up at him with such a glance of quick intelligence, as he could not have believed her to possess. "Harriet!" she said, as Sir Hawarth neared them, "if you dance with that man, I will leave Singleton Manor to-morrow morning." "You!" said Harriet, turning quickly upon her. "I will," returned Margaret. "I dare say," said Harriet laughing scornfully, "but I won't let you. I will lock you up in the store-room among the apricots." "I am in earnest," said Margaret, "take your choice." "The pleasure of dancing the next quadrille with you, Miss Conway," said Sir Hawarth Fane, evidently rather intoxicated. "Engaged, Sir Hawarth," replied Harriet in some confusion, her colour rose, her breath grew short, she was evidently in much agitation. "Engaged! I am deucedly sorry for that," said Sir Hawarth in a thick voice, "I'll wait till after this quadrille, and perhaps I may prevail on you to galop with me afterwards." He certainly looked in a charming condition for a galop. Harriet replied that she was really sorry, but that they were to leave the ball-room after the next dance. Sir Hawarth muttered something about his being in confounded ill-luck; and that there was not another woman in the room worth dancing with.