Allan breathed more freely. It was no prurient curiosity which had led him to pry into the secrets of the past. He wanted to know the truth; yet it would have been agony to him to discover anything that would lessen his reverent admiration for his father, or his belief in his father's honour and high principle. Sitting idle in the sunshine beside Mrs. Mornington, he tried to think that there might be nothing more than eccentricity in Mrs. Wornock's conduct, no indication of a dark secret in her fainting-fit, or in her embarrassed manner during his mother's visit. Mrs. Mornington went back to the subject of her dance--her niece, her brother, his income, his establishment, and the how much or how little he could afford to spend. She lamented the dearth of dancing men. "Both my boys are away," she said, "Luke with his regiment in Burmah, Fred in London. _He_ might run down for the evening if he liked; but you know what young men are. Well, perhaps you are more civilized than Frederick. He pretends to hate dancing-parties; yet, when we spent a winter at Cannes, he was at a ball nearly every night. He despises my poor little dance." "I am sure your little dance will be delightful." "I hope it will not be dull. I am straining every nerve to make it a success. I shall have the house full of nice young people, and I shall have decent music. Only four men, but they will be very good men, and four will make quite enough noise in my poor little rooms." Mrs. Mornington's "poor little rooms" included a drawing-room thirty feet long, opening into a spacious conservatory. There was a wide bay at the end of the room which would accommodate the grand piano and the four musicians. Allan had to make a tour of inspection with the mistress of the house before he left, and to express his approval of her arrangements. "There will be a comfortable old-fashioned sit-down supper," she said finally. "I have asked a good many middle-aged people, and there will be nothing for _them_ to do but eat." CHAPTER VI. LIKE THE MOTH TO THE FLAME. A small dance in a bright airy country house on a balmy summer evening is about as pleasant a form of entertainment as can be offered to the youthful mind not satiated by metropolitan entertainments, by balls in Park Lane, where the flowers alone cost the price of an elderly spinster's annuity, Bachelors' balls, and Guards' balls, American balls in Carlton Gardens, patrician balls in grand old London houses, built in the days when rank was as much apart from the herd and the newly rich as royalty; when rank and royalty moved hand-in-hand on a plateau of privilege and splendour as high above the commonality as Madrid is above the sea.