Mrs. Mallory said she supposed it was Mr. Spenceley’s own business; he ought to know best whether he were able to give balls at such a time. He could not put off his daughter’s twenty-first birthday for an indefinite time. ‘No,’ said Sebastian, ‘and that is just what makes the whole affair such a melancholy farce. His daughter is very anxious not to have any ball. She told me so, and nearly cried with vexation about it.’ Mrs. Mallory made no reply, and Sebastian, saying he had a meeting to attend, went out. Hugo was that afternoon in one of his oft-recurring idle moods, and wandered about, apparently not knowing what to do with himself. He was anticipating the ball eagerly enough, having extracted from Helena the promise of no less than three waltzes--less of a distinction than he imagined, perhaps, since Helena, in granting them, had been thinking chiefly of escaping from the defective dancing and fatuous remarks of the Thanshope young men, amongst whom she enjoyed what she considered a fatal popularity. She had wondered whether to keep any dances for Sebastian. Would he ask her to dance at all? ‘Of course he will!’ she thought, ‘as a matter of duty, and I think I shall fill up my programme, and show it him without any comment when he asks me. Then he will raise his eyebrows in that way I hate, and make a little bow, and smile a little smile, and remark, “I see I am indeed too late;” and stand on one side, perfectly content not to dance, since the nicest girl he ever knew is not there.’ But these workings of the feminine mind could not possibly be known to Hugo, who was only aware that he had received an indulgent smile and a pleasant glance from Helena’s dark eyes, as she protested a little against the three waltzes, but yielded in the end. He repaired to the drawing-room, and, with characteristic fitfulness, spent the whole afternoon in playing waltzes, good, bad, and indifferent, of every kind and from every source he could think of. Waltz after waltz flowed from his rapid fingers. Gung’l and Strauss, Beethoven, Mozart, Schubert--ancient and modern composers, good and bad ones, were laid under contribution, till his whole being seemed a waltz, and he was in a state of highly strung nervous excitement and anticipation, with which mingled the memories of past waltzes with partners of a bygone day. Hugo felt his whole soul penetrated with music, melody, and happiness as he sat in the shady corner of the drawing-room and saw the sun stream warmly in at the side window. He felt life that afternoon very full and rich and delicious, and crowded with sweet and grand possibilities. He felt at harmony with all the world, and was sure it was a good place to live in. He had just finished the solemn, passionate strains of a waltz of Beethoven’s, and still his fingers lingered on the keys, and still his ears drank in the glorious notes, when the door opened and Mrs. Mallory came into the room.