Violet and Captain Winstanley waltzed in a stern silence. She was vexed with herself for her loss of temper just now. In his breast there was a deeper anger. "When would my day come?" he asked himself. "When shall I be able to bow this proud head, to bend this stubborn will?" It must be soon--he was tired of playing his submissive part--tired of holding his cards hidden. They held on to the end of the waltz--the last clash of the sleigh-bells. "Who's that girl in black and gold?" asked a Guardsman of Lady Ellangowan; "those two are the best dancers in the room--it's a thousand to nothing on them." That final clash of the bells brought the Captain and his partner to anchor at the end of the gallery, which opened through an archway into a spacious palm-house with a lofty dome. In the middle of this archway, looking at the dancers, stood a figure at sight of which Violet Tempest's heart gave a great leap, and then stood still. It was Roderick Vawdrey. He was standing alone, listlessly contemplating the ball-room, with much less life and expression in his face than there was in the pictured faces on the walls. "That was a very nice waltz thanks," said Vixen, giving the captain a little curtsey. "Shall I take you back to Mrs. Tempest?" Roderick had seen her by this time, and was coming towards her with a singularly grave and distant countenance, she thought; not at all like the Rorie of old times. But of course that was over and done with. She must never call him Rorie any more, not even in her own thoughts. A sharp sudden memory thrilled her, as they stood face to face in that brilliant gallery--the memory of their last meeting in the darkened room on the day of her father's funeral. "How do you do?" said Roderick, with a gush of originality. "Your mamma is here, I suppose." "Haven't you seen her?" "No; we've only just come." "We," no doubt, meant the Dovedale party, of which Mr. Vawdrey was henceforth a part. "I did not know you were to be here," said Vixen, "or then that you were in England." "We only came home yesterday, or I should have called at the Abbey House. We have been coming home, or talking about it, for the last three weeks. A few days ago the Duchess took it into her head that she ought to be at Lady Almira's wedding--there's some kind of relationship, you know, between the Ashbournes and the Southminsters--so we put on a spurt, and here we are." "I am very glad," said Vixen, not knowing very well what to say; and then seeing Captain Winstanley standing stiffly at her side, with an aggrieved expression of countenance, she faltered: "I beg your pardon; I don't think you have ever met Mr. Vawdrey. Captain Winstanley--Mr. Vawdrey." Both gentlemen acknowledged the introduction with the stiffest and chilliest of bows; and then the Captain offered Violet his arm, and she, having no excuse for refusing it, submitted quietly to be taken away from her old friend. Roderick made no attempt to detain her.