He looked many things which he did not say, and poor Gussy sat in a sort of trance of mortified happiness, feeling herself put back, checked, as if it were she who was over-eager and impatient, yet so assured of his tenderness, so moved by the high-mindedness of his determination to have everything worthy of her before he should ask her to share his fate, that her heart melted within her in answering tenderness and consent. No, she would never, could never doubt him more. His hand laid upon her hand was not enough for the response she was so ready to give: but he knew and trusted her, as she felt she ought always to have known and trusted him. And there was a moment’s silence, to Gussy more eloquent than any words; a sort of noiseless betrothal, binding them to each other till the time for full disclosure and explanation should come. He stooped down at last and kissed her hand as if his feelings were getting too much for him, and then broke into remarks upon the dancers, who were once more streaming out into the cooler space at the end of the waltz. He called her attention to two or three, and made her laugh. She felt no longer any difficulty in being amused. “But I am afraid I must go soon,” she said; “I am engaged for the next dance.” “Sit close,” said Meredith, “and the man will never find you. Dolff’s men are all as blind as bats. They know nobody, and they go prowling round trying to recognize some girl they have only seen for a moment. There is one who has begun his round already, peering at everybody. I hope he is not your man?” “Perhaps he is,” said Gussy, drawing further back; “I don’t know him any more than he knows me.” “Then you had far better stop with one who does know you, and--something more,” said Meredith. “There! he has passed and you are safe. Ah, so here is old Vicars again! Where does he always appear from, whenever you want him, that old man?” “He appears--from where he lives, Charley. You know mamma lets him have the coachman’s room in the wing.” “That wing has always seemed a most mysterious place to me. How do you get into it? Do you strike upon a trap-door, and does he start up through it like a jack-in-the-box?” “Nonsense,” said Gussy. “There is a door at the back, as I am sure you must have seen.” Her tone was quite simple and unembarrassed, and Meredith for a moment was silent. He went on again, however, immediately. “There must be some nice rooms up there. I can’t think why you never use them. Almost enough for a young _ménage_. For Dolff and his wife, for instance, if he was to make a match with Miss Summerhayes, or even----” “Charley, I wish you would not always make fun of those two. There is no chance whatever of Dolff making a match with Miss Summerhayes. My mother would be furious; and it is really unkind to Janet, who, I am sure, has not the least idea----”