India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
As he pencilled his initials on her programme a horde of dance-hungry men
swooped down on Noreen and almost pushed him aside. He bowed and strolled
away to watch the dancing. He had no desire to obtain other partners and
was content to watch his little friend of the forest, who seemed to have
suddenly become a very lovely woman. She seemed very gay and happy, he
thought. He noticed that she danced oftenest with Melville and a tall, fair
man whom he did not know.
Never had the early part of a ball seemed to Noreen to drag so much as this
one did. She felt that her partners must find her very stupid indeed, for
she paid no attention to what they said and answered at random.
At last almost in a trance of happiness she found herself gliding round the
room with Dermot's arm about her. The band was playing a dreamy waltz, and
her partner danced perfectly. Neither of them spoke. Noreen could not; she
felt that all she wanted was to float, on air it seemed, held close to
Dermot's breast. She gave a sigh when the dance ended. In the interval she
did not want to talk; it was enough to look at his face, to hear his voice.
She hated her next partner when he came to claim her.
But she had two more dances with Dermot before the band struck up "The
Roast Beef of Old England," and the ballroom emptied. At supper he
contrived to secure a small table at which they were alone; so they were
able to talk without constraint. She began to wonder how she had ever
thought him grave and stern or felt in awe of him. For in the gay
atmosphere his Irish nature was uppermost; he was as light-hearted as a
boy, and his conversation was almost frivolous.
During supper Noreen saw Ida watching her across the room, and later on,
when the dancing began again, her friend cornered her.
"I say, darling, who is the new man you've been dancing with such a lot
tonight? You had supper with him, too. I've never seen him before. He's
awfully good-looking."
"Oh, that is--I suppose you mean Major Dermot," replied the girl, feeling
suddenly shy.
"Major Dermot? Who's he? What is--Oh, is it the wonderful hero from the
Terai, the man you told me so much about when you came up?"
"Yes; he is the same."
"Really? How interesting! He's so distinguished-looking. When did he come
up? Why didn't you tell me he was coming?"
"I didn't know it myself."
"I should love to meet him. Introduce him to me. Now, at once."
With a hurried apology to her own partner and Noreen's she dragged the girl
off in search of the fresh man who had taken her fancy, and did not give up
the chase until, with Melville's aid, Dermot was run to earth in the
cardroom and introduced to her. Ida did not wait for him to ask her to
dance but calmly ran her pencil through three names on the programme and
bestowed the vacancies thus created on him in such a way that he could not
refuse them. Dermot, however, did not grumble. She was Noreen's friend; if
not the rose, she was near the rose.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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