When the dance ended, they stopped just by the spot where Miss Ceswick was sitting. Florence and Dorothy were both dancing, but Jeremy, who did not dance, was standing by her, looking as sulky as a bear with a sore head. Eva stretched out her hand to him with a smile. “I hope that you are going to dance with me, Mr. Jones,” she said. “I don’t dance,” he answered, curtly, and walked away. She gazed after him wonderingly; his manner was decidedly rude. “I do not think that Mr. Jones is in a good temper,” she said to Ernest, with a smile. “O, he is a queer fellow; going out always makes him cross,” he answered carelessly. Then the gathering phalanx of would-be partners marched in and took possession, and Ernest had to retire. The ball was drawing to its close. The dancing-room, notwithstanding its open windows, was intensely hot, and many of the dancers were strolling in the gardens, among them Ernest and Eva. They had just danced their third waltz, in which they had discovered that their steps suited better than ever. Florence, Dorothy, and her brother were also walking all three together. It is curious how people in misfortune cling to one another. They walked in silence; they had nothing to say. Presently they caught sight of two tall figures standing by a bush, on which was fixed a dying Chinese lantern. It is sometimes unfortunate to be tall, it betrays one’s identity; there was no mistaking the two figures, though it was so dark. Instinctively the three halted. And just then the expiring Chinese lantern did an unkind thing: it caught fire, and threw a lurid light upon a very pretty little scene. Ernest was bending forward towards Eva with all his soul in his expressive eyes, and begging for something. She was blushing sweetly, and looking down at the rose in her bosom; one hand, too, was raised, as though to unfasten it. The light for a moment was so strong that Dorothy afterwards remembered noticing how long Eva’s curling black eyelashes looked against her cheek. In another second it had flared out, and the darkness hid the sequel; but it may here be stated that when Eva reappeared in the ballroom she had lost her rose. Charming and idyllic as this _tableau très vivant_ of youth and beauty, obeying the primary law of nature, and making love to one another in a Garden of Eden illumined with Chinese lanterns, undoubtedly was, it did not seem to please any of the three spectators. Jeremy actually forgot the presence of ladies, and went so far as to swear aloud. Nor did they reprove him; probably it gave their feelings some vicarious relief. “I think that we had better be going home; it is late,” said Dorothy, after a pause. “Jeremy, will you go and order the carriage?” Jeremy went.