This conversation was probably not intended for me, but I heard it all, and with much bitterness at my heart I turned away to hide my tears, involuntarily drawing nearer to Dr. Clayton, as if for protection. But, for some reason or other, he did not appear now as he did when we were alone; then he was all kindness and attention, while he now evidently avoided me; seeming slightly annoyed when any of his acquaintance teased him about me, as I more than once heard them doing. In _his_ nature, as in every other man’s, there were both good and bad qualities, and they now seemed warring with each other; the former chiding him for deserting me when I stood so much in need of his attention, and the latter shrinking from anything which would incur the ridicule of his companions. At last, as if his good genius had conquered, he suddenly broke away from a group of girls, and crossing over to where I was standing, offered me his arm, telling me “I must stir round and be more sociable.” I looked down at my feet, so did he, and for an instant there was a flush on his face; but it passed off, and with a word of encouragement, he led me towards the music-room, where Dell Thompson was unmercifully pounding a five hundred dollar piano, which groaned and shrieked under the infliction, while the bystanders, who had insisted upon her playing, were all talking together, seemingly intent upon seeing which could make the most noise, they or the instrument. “Do you play, Miss Lee?” was asked me by half a dozen or more. I had taken lessons two quarters, and I could play a few dancing tunes, marches, etc., and so I said, whereupon they insisted upon my favoring them with Money Musk, as they wanted to dance, and none of them could perform anything as _old-fashioned_ as that. I looked at Dr. Clayton, who, in a low tone, asked, “Are you sure you can get through with it?” There was _doubt_ in the tones of his voice which touched my pride, and without deigning him an answer I took my seat, resolving to do my best. The set was soon formed, Dr. Clayton dancing with Dell Thompson, who remarked as he led her away—“I suppose we shall have a rare performance.” Something, I am sure, must have inspired me, for never before did I play so well; keeping perfect time, and striking every note distinctly. My audience were evidently both surprised and pleased, for they called for piece after piece, until my list was exhausted, when one of the gentlemen, more thoughtful than the ladies, suggested the possibility of my being tired. “Perhaps she dances, too. Ask her, Bob,” said a young lady, while Dell eagerly rejoined, “Oh, yes, do;” but _Bob_ was forestalled by Dr. Clayton, who, for several minutes, had stood by my side, complimenting my playing, and who now asked me to be his partner in the next cotillon, his cousin having volunteered to take my place at the piano.