Now, be it known, that her performance was perfectly decorous and delightfully graceful. Lalla’s glancing feet scarcely touched the ground, and she danced as if from pure happiness and lightness of heart. (Toby Joy danced as if he had _le diable au corps_.) After entrancing the spectators for ten thrilling minutes with several entirely fresh variations, Lalla finished up with the tee-to-tum spin, which is to the dancer what the high note, at the end of a song, is to the singer! The result of this effort was a hurricane of frantic applause, in which Sir Gloster took no part; he was not a theatre-goer--he was provincial. His mother and his surroundings were strictly evangelical; and whilst his _fiancée_ enchanted the whole station, he stood against the wall glowering and pale. The only character present to his mind was _the daughter of Herodias_! Frankly speaking, the performance had filled him with horror. That the future Lady Sandilands should offer herself thus to public contemplation; that any one who chose to pay four rupees might see this indecorous exhibition--including soldiers in uniform, at the low price of four annas! He was actually beside himself with fury, and forced his way out, with his head down, like a charging animal. Few noticed him or his hasty exit; every one had eyes for Lalla, and Lalla only. She received an ovation and a shower of bouquets as she was conducted before the curtain by Toby Joy, modestly curtseying and kissing her hand. Miss Paske subsequently remained to enjoy a merry and _recherché_ supper, chaperoned by the invaluable Mrs. Dashwood; and Mrs. Langrishe, as was not an unusual occurrence, went home alone. To that lady’s great amazement, she discovered Sir Gloster awaiting her in the drawing-room, and she gathered from his strange and agitated appearance that something terrible had occurred. “I was thinking of writing to you, Mrs. Langrishe,” he began in a curiously formal voice, “but I changed my mind, and came to see you instead. All is over between your niece and myself.” Mrs. Langrishe turned perfectly livid, and dropped into the nearest chair. “Pray, explain!” she faltered at last. “Miss Paske will doubtless _explain_ to you why she gave me a solemn promise to renounce dancing on a public stage. I reluctantly allowed her to appear for the last time in a very small part--that of an old nurse. I return unexpectedly, and discover her in the character of a ballet-girl, exhibiting herself--well, I must say it--half naked to the whole of Shirani. Such a person is not fit to be my wife. She has broken her word. She has a depraved taste; she has no modesty.” That Ida Langrishe should live to hear such epithets applied to her own flesh and blood! She covered her face with her hands, and actually sobbed aloud. Who had ever seen Mrs. Langrishe break down before? No one.