This was a very ill-natured thing to say, and made poor Miss Peggy wince and colour, and she did not retaliate, because, I suppose, she could think of nothing to say. Then old Mr. Walsingham, who had constituted himself the director of the ceremonies, appeared. He was dressed in the most beautiful crimson silk coat, lined with white, and purple waistcoat, and he came slowly up the hall, with a gentleman whose bearing was as great as his own, but whose years were less. "It is young Lord Chudleigh," whispered Peggy Baker, fanning herself anxiously. "He has come from Durdans with his party." Lord Chudleigh! Heavens! To meet in such a manner, in such a place, my own husband! "What is the matter, Kitty dear?" asked Nancy. "You turned quite pale. Bite your lips, my dear, to get the colour back." "It is nothing. I am faint with the heat and the lights, I suppose. Do not take notice of me." Peggy Baker assumed an air of languor and sensibility, which, though extremely fine, was perhaps over-acted. "Lord Chudleigh," she said, "is of course the person of the highest distinction in the room. He will invite, I presume, Lady Levett to open the ball with the first minuet. If Lady Levett declines, he will be free to select another partner." In fact, Mr. Walsingham conducted Lord Chudleigh to Lady Levett, and presented him to her. Her ladyship excused herself on the ground that her dancing days were over, which was of course expected. His lordship then said a few words to Mr. Walsingham, who nodded, smiled, and conducted him to the little group composed of Nancy, Peggy Baker, and myself. But he presented his lordship--to me! "Since," he said, while the room went round with me, "since Lady Levett will not condescend to open the ball with your lordship, I beg to present you to Miss Kitty Pleydell, who appears to-night, for the first time, at our assembly; and, I am assured, for the first time in any assembly. My lord, the sun, when he rises in splendour, dims the light of the moon and stars. Miss Kitty, I would I were fifty years younger, that I might challenge this happy young gentleman for the honour of the dance." Then Lord Chudleigh spoke. I remembered his voice: a deep shame fell upon my soul, thinking where and how I had heard that voice before. "Miss Pleydell," he said, bowing low, "I humbly desire the honour of opening the ball with you." It was time to rally my spirits, for the eyes of all the company were upon us. There was only one thing to do--to forget for the moment what was past, and address myself to the future. I can look back upon the evening with pride, because I remember how I was able to push away shame and remembrance, and to think, for the moment, about my steps and my partner. Twang, twang, twang, went the fiddles. The conductor raised his wand. The music crashed and rang about the room. "Courage, Kitty!" whispered Nancy. "Courage! Think you are at home."