"Pandora--was she a papist too?--Away with this witch! she must indeed be an ill woman. But now, Mr. Fenton, do you really believe in all the charms of these old enchantresses?" "No, but I do devoutly in those of the young," he added gaily, as he led her down the dance, resigned her to Douglas, and turned to Annie Laurie, who whispered, "Saw ye who overheard your tête-à-tête?" "No," he replied, laughing; "but perhaps it was the great subject thereof." "One not much better, certes. He is behind you now." Walter turned and beheld the large dark eyes of Lord Clermistonlee, fixedly regarding him with an expression too hostile to be misunderstood. He replied by a glance as haughty and as stern; but a cold and inexplicable smile curled the proud lip of the handsome roué, as he turned slowly away, and addressed himself to Lady Charteris, the beautiful blonde, who rustled in a ponderous suit of brocade, and stood five feet seven inches independent of "cork-heeled shoon," being in every sense of the word what the Scotch were wont to consider a "fine" woman, one of those stately and patagonian beauties, of whom once in a time Edinburgh could always boast a large stock, but who appear to have vanished with the hoops and fardingales, the bobwigs and laced coats, the gentlemanly spirit and the sterling worth of the "last century." In the middle of the cotillon, Fergusson of Craigdarroch, who had been looking unutterable things for some time, now approached, and twisting his moustachios, said with cold hauteur, "Your humble servant, Mr. Douglas." "Craigdarroch, yours," rejoined Finland, quite as coldly, and they surveyed each other from head to foot. "I requested the honour of Mistress Laurie's hand for this cotillon." "Indeed!" replied Finland, in the same cavalier tone, and raising his eyebrows with a well-bred stare of surprise. "You have forfeited it by being too late, however." "You will not resign in my favour?" "Zounds!" said Finland, frowning. Fergusson's cheek glowed with passion. "You have your rapier with you?" "Here, at your service," replied Douglas, in the same low tone, and bit his glove. "Good. When the cotillon closes I will be in the garden, where the moonlight is bright enough to enable us to come to a proper understanding." Douglas nodded significantly, and his rival withdrew. Annie, who had been gaily chatting for a minute with some passer, had not heard what passed--Lilian Napier did, or at least, she saw enough to alarm her. Douglas went through the cotillon with his usual gaiety and grace; and after a short promenade, handed his unconscious partner to a seat; but instead of posting himself behind it as usual, to Annie's great surprise and indignation, he beckoned Walter Fenton, and they left the room together. At that moment Lilian, with a pale lip and agitated eye, glided to the side of her friend, and whispered: "Where has the Laird of Finland gone?"