CHAPTER XVI.

'IN MAZES OF HEAT AND SOUND."

LADY RADDLEY'S dance was going beautifully. Everybody said so; and everybody was there. Lady Raddley repeated again and again to her smartest friends that she had been obliged to ask everybody, because people had been so disagreeable about her little dances. Her heart was full of pride and gratitude. There was a thirsty crowd about the supper-tables-a thirsty crowd battling for tea or lemonade; a block on the staircase; a crush in the doorway; and the ball-room was so full, that dancing was almost impossible. Those who had seats were afraid to move; those who had not, were drooping. It was a very hot night.

Irvine Dale came late, in a state of mingled shyness and excitement. He was not accustomed to

London society, and felt, as he was apt to feel, that everybody was observing him. Had he been the Grand Turk himself, he would have excited but little attention that evening. People of fashion are not easily moved to excitement. They long for it, but it is ever harder to obtain. Yesterday's amusement is the bore of to-day. What is there for to-morrow? That is the question. It must be something new, and a little stronger. They do not conceal their eagerness. The languid manner is disappearing among the younger folk, and an almost brutal frankness prevails. Invent us a game or tell us a story, or go and hang yourself. It is thus that the tall young men of fashion address each other, and they treat their lady friends with almost equal sincerity. Never was your wag in greater request. People must be amused. Their eagerness is terrible. They do everything with feverish energy, and yet have nothing to do. They devour news which they don't believe, and will take any pains to gain the latest possible intelligence about matters in which they feel no interest whatever. Yet they have no time for business. Mothers who will not trouble themselves to arrange suitable alliances for their own daughters, shrug their shoulders at their neighbours' marriages.

Young married women in search of stronger excitements leap at free flirtation, and leave their children for an emotion. Men who have grown weary of monotonous gambling, carry an extra card to pass the time. So they keep moving, crowding and jostling in spite of the extreme heat of the weather. So they have flooded Lady Raddley's house, and filled her shrunken heart with momentary content. It was something that all the best people came to her.

The best people, like everybody else, were hoping that something would turn up. Even Miss Katharine Adare was not wholly free from the prevailing epidemic. Her happy nature was affected by the restlessness about her. She was a little tired of crowd and heat, and she thought that she was tired of admiration. It is certain that she was dissatisfied with the manner in which the admiration was expressed. Lord Humphrey's compliments had been little short of insults; but luckily, she was rid of them now. Her partners assumed for the most part an easy air of friendliness. "They speak to me as if I were a man," said the young lady, who was very woman. "Come and have a dance," said Tommy; and, "You are in looks to-night," said

Bobby and Miss Katharine resented the speeches.

She had a habit of drawing away her head, which kept the boldest young men at a distance. She had old-fashioned ideas of respectful demeanour. She had pictured a world of men who took pains to be agreeable to women—who were privileged to be attentive, and were rewarded by a smile for accomplishments and wit. She found Bobby talking over her head to Tommy; and Tommy treating her like a good fellow. They liked her because there was no nonsense about her; but she was not sure that they would not be the better for a little more nonsense in the form of graceful manners. She had read and loved in the school-room the romances of Walter Scott. She was said to be the handsomest girl in London; and yet nobody begged the favour of dance. On the contrary, the popular young men had the air of conferring a benefit. They flung the handkerchief. They were few in number, and were valued accordingly. Moreover, Miss Katharine had a strong love of helping and protecting weaker creatures; and in the gay world she found herself patronised, and in some sort protected, by beings weaker than herself. She remembered nothing more vexatious than the fact that Irvine Dale, whom she had been so glad to help and soothe when they were boy and girl, had slipped away