St. Eval shook his head in playful reproof.  They sat apart from the dancers, and feeling neither her words nor any subsequent agitation could be remarked, she placed her trembling hand in St. Eval’s, and said, almost inarticulately—­

“Eugene, tell me, does Arthur—­Mr. Myrvin accompany Lord Louis to-night?  Do not deceive me.”

“He does,” he replied instantly, “and what detains them I cannot understand.  But fear nothing, dearest Emmeline, I know all; you may trust me, fear nothing.  And now your promise—­the quadrille is formed, they only wait for us.”

“I know all, fear nothing,” Emmeline internally repeated, her whole frame trembling with agitation, as kindly and encouragingly St. Eval led her to the place assigned them.  She forced herself to think only on the dance, on the amusing anecdotes he was telling her, on the light laugh, the ready jest that were sparkling around her.  Her natural grace in dancing forsook her not, nor did she refuse her sister’s request, when the quadrille was finished, that she would take out her harp.  She seated herself at the instrument and commenced.

Music had not lost its charm, rapt in the exquisite air she was playing, it seemed to soothe her agitated feelings, and bid her forget her usual timidity.  All were silent, for the air was so sweet, so plaintive, not a voice could have disturbed it; it changed to a quicker, more animated strain, and at that instant Emmeline beheld Edward and Ellen hastily rise to greet a young man, who noiselessly yet eagerly came forward to meet them:  it was Lord Louis.  Emmeline started, a strong effort alone enabled her to command herself sufficiently to continue playing, but her fingers now moved mechanically; every pulse throbbed so violently, and to her ear so loudly, that she no longer heard the notes she played.  All was a mist before her eyes, and the animated plaudits that greeted her as she ceased, rung in her ears as unmeaning, unintelligible sounds.  Lord Louis hastily advanced to lead her from the harp, and to tell her how very glad he was to see her again, though even his usually careless eye lost its mirthful expression, as he marked the alteration in his favourite companion.  Emmeline tried to smile and answer him in his own strain, but her smile was sickly and faint, and her voice trembled audibly as she spoke.  She looked round, fearing, yet longing to see another, but Lord Louis was alone.  His preceptor was not near him, but Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, St. Eval and Herbert had also left the room.  Some little time passed in animated conversation, still Myrvin did not appear.

“You are wanted in the library, dearest Emmeline,” said the young Countess St. Eval.

“Come with me, Emmeline:  foolish girl, ‘fear nothing,’” said the Earl, joyously.