The close of the evening was very brilliant. The band of the Plungers adjourned to the great conservatory opening out of the drawing-room, after having supped luxuriously--so luxuriously indeed, that one of the cornet-players bungled considerably in the process of changing his keys, and was severely reprimanded by his chief. But the Pevenshall guests were too deep in flirtation and pleasure to be aware of any transient hitch in the harmony of that delicious Plunger band, which played waltzes and galops to perfection; and the effect of the red coats and glittering brazen instruments seen athwart the dusky foliage of palm and orange, citron and cactus, was picturesque in the extreme. Foremost among the waltzers were Florence in her Pompadour dress, and Sir Nugent in his violet-velvet coat and diamond-hilted rapier; and the German diplomatist watching them observed to Cecil that it was evident the baronet had learned to waltz upon the other side of the Alps. Conspicuous on account of her position as mistress of the house, doubly conspicuous because of her beauty and brilliant costume, Mrs. Lobyer could not indulge in the mildest flirtation without incurring a certain degree of observation; and her flirtation with Sir Nugent to-night was not of the mildest order. It seemed as if he could not quite put off his character of the scapegrace adorer while he still wore the dress. As he had pursued the lovely Countess in the comedy, so he pursued the bewitching Mrs. Lobyer now that the comedy was over. As Flo had coquetted in her _rôle_ of the Countess, so she coquetted now. Fast young squires remarked to their intimates that the pretty little woman was "going the pace." Dowagers regarded Mrs. Lobyer curiously through double eye-glasses. Even Miss Evershed shrugged her shoulders, and told her confidante of the moment that the flirtation was really becoming a little too glaring. "I shall speak to Nugent about it to-morrow," she said; "for I think he minds me as much as he does any one; and as I know she is a good little thing, with no real harm in her, I don't like to see her make a fool of herself." It was nearly four o'clock when the last carriage rolled away from beneath the Italian portico. It was quite four o'clock when Florence went up stairs with Cecil. "Now half to the setting moon are gone, And half to the rising day: Low on the sand, and loud on the stone, The last wheel echoes away," exclaimed Mrs. Lobyer, whose gaiety throughout the evening had been of a very feverish order. "Let me come to your room, Cecil. We'll have some strong tea, and talk over our evening. Do you think it has been successful?"