That very pledge he had given in exchange for permission to wear the detested mask. What a web he had spun around himself! And should he break it at once? Should he dash boldly into the world in his own name, sweep impediments from before him, woo Mildred in spite of everything, and bear her off to his ancestral towers, ay, in defiance of her haughty mother? Would it not be a revenge acceptable to the shade of his broken-hearted father? His wavering irresolution made him fretful, and almost morose. It caused also a strange craving for excitement. He became impatient of his quiet evenings at Hampstead. It was ungrateful, but he could not help it. Helen saw his irritation with sorrow, but without complaint. Rereworth saw it, and tried vainly to soothe it. He had frequently pressed Randolph to accompany him into society; he prevailed on him to acquire the accomplishments of life, and thereby provided a considerable source of amusement for Mr. Peach, who frequently inquired concerning his lodger's progress in the airs and graces. "My dancing!" Randolph might exclaim in answer to such queries; "it prospers marvellously. Yet methinks it is a ridiculous occupation." "By no means, my dear sir," would be the reply. "Hath not the 'Spectator' observed, that 'no one was ever a good dancer that had not a good understanding?' Ah! I see why you smile; but that's not the meaning." But hitherto Rereworth had been unable to persuade his friend to avail himself of his new acquirements. Trevethlan's secret held him back. It met him at every turn. But now, in his eagerness to forget himself, he at last consented to go with Seymour to an assembly at the house of a near relation, where, Rereworth said, his friends were always welcome. The evening arrived, and Randolph joined his introducer at his chambers. "You may call yourself a happy man, Morton," cried Rereworth gaily. "You shall be the envy of all our sex, for my fair cousin's sister is the loveliest girl in London, and I have made her promise to be disengaged to dance with you. I told her you were a very good-looking fellow." "That is not a good introduction," Randolph said, with a faint smile. "But you sacrifice yourself." "Never fear, you won't disappoint her," Seymour continued. "And as for me, I have romped with her this many a day. She waltzes with me in the morning, and teazes me in the evening. I shall really be glad to inflict her upon you." "Then I accept the doom," said Randolph. "Dance with her after supper," added his friend. "That's the time when 'beauty like the midnight flower--'" and Rereworth whistled "Fly not yet." His companion's spirits rose under the influence of his own. "Another glass to her health, Morton, and let us away." It was quaffed, and they departed. A lumbering hackney-coach conveyed them to Cavendish-square. "Mr. Rereworth." ... "Mr. Rereworth." And Randolph had made his bow to Mrs. Winston.