He turned to retrace his steps, and now saw the whole south wing blazing with light, and the sprite-like figures of the dancers as they flitted by the illuminated windows. He hastened back, entered the house, hurried to the little room always kept sacred to his use, arranged his toilet, and went below. He entered the ballroom, which was resplendent and joyous with light, and music, and gay and brilliant company. Magnus slowly made his way through the crowd in search of his ladylove, but nodding, smiling, shaking hands, according to the degree of his acquaintance with the individuals that made up the company. Judge Jacky was there in great force—superb in a blue velvet coat, white satin vest, and smallclothes. And Ambrosia Wylie was there, too. Miss Ambush, as the colored folk perverted her pretty name. Oh, well named both ways, for she had grown up the most alluring _ignis-fatuus_ that ever drew men on an elf chase through brambles and quagmires. She had already drawn General Garnet on to ask her to dance! General Garnet, the proud, the stern, the majestic, the unbendable, is actually bending over her with his most seraphic smile, and a gaze that might melt all the icebergs in the Northern Ocean—and she has raised her languishing eyes, with the look of a gratified angel, and she has given her hand, and he, still shining upon her with that sunlike smile, is leading her to the head of the cotillion. In the meantime, Magnus found his ladylove. She was sitting at the farthest extremity of the room, the center of a circle of sprightly young people, who were eagerly engaged in asking her questions concerning her residence abroad, London, the court, the king, etc., etc., and as eagerly listening to her replies. As Magnus gently broke through this circle, and approached her side, with a smile, her eyes fell and her color rose. Her young friends, with a smile, a laugh, or an arch glance, dropped off, one by one, leaving the lovers alone. And now Elsie’s eyes were dropped to the ground, and her color mounted to her temples. At the same moment a young gentleman came up and asked the pleasure of her hand in the next quadrille. Elsie, with a start, and a sigh of relief, suffered him to lead her forth to the head of the cotillion. I am sure Dr. Hardcastle was unconscious of the angry flush and fierce glance with which he followed the meanderings of the young couple through the mazes of the dance. Not so Elsie. With many a swift, furtive glance she detected the angry passion of her lover’s face, and felt self-reproach enough to bewilder her movements. Never had beautiful Elsie danced with less grace, and never had she been so glad when the set was over. Her partner led her to a seat, distant from the one he had taken her from, took his seat by the side of her, and held her in conversation that made her more fidgety than before.