There had already been a dance—the commencing operation of the night’s work—a thin quadrille, in which the early comers had taken part without much animation, and to which they had been driven up unwillingly. At its close the Fawcett girls had come in, as had now Mrs. Cornbury, so that it may be said that the evening was beginning again. What had been as yet done was but the tuning of the fiddles before the commencement of the opera. No one likes to be in at the tuning, but there are those who never are able to avoid this annoyance. As it was, Rachel, under Mrs. Cornbury’s care, had been brought upon the scene just at the right moment. As soon as the great clatter had ceased, she found herself taken by the hand by Cherry, and led a little on one side. “You must have a card, you know,” said Cherry handing her a ticket on which was printed the dances as they were to succeed each other. “That first one is over. Such a dull thing. I danced with Adolphus Griggs, just because I couldn’t escape him for one quadrille.” Rachel took the card, but never having seen such a thing before did not in the least understand its object. “As you get engaged for the dances you must put down their names in this way, you see,”—and Cherry showed her card, which already bore the designations of several cavaliers, scrawled in hieroglyphics which were intelligible to herself. “Haven’t you got a pencil? Well, you can come to me. I have one hanging here, you know.” Rachel was beginning to understand, and to think that she should not have very much need for the pencil, when Mrs. Cornbury returned to her, bringing a young man in her wake. “I want to introduce my cousin to you, Walter Cornbury,” said she. Mrs. Cornbury was a woman who knew her duty as a chaperon, and who would not neglect it. “He waltzes delightfully,” said Mrs. Cornbury, whispering, “and you needn’t be afraid of being a little astray with him at first. He always does what I tell him.” Then the introduction was made; but Rachel had no opportunity of repeating her fears, or of saying again that she thought she had better not waltz. What to say to Mr. Walter Cornbury she hardly knew; but before she had really said anything he had pricked her down for two dances—for the first waltz, which was just going to begin, and some not long future quadrille. “She is very pretty,” Mrs. Butler Cornbury had said to her cousin, “and I want to be kind to her.” “I’ll take her in hand and pull her through,” said Walter. “What a tribe of people they’ve got here, haven’t they?” “Yes, and you must dance with them all. Every time you stand up may be as good as a vote.” “Oh,” said Walter, “I’m not particular;—I’ll dance as long as they keep the house open.” Then he went back to Rachel, who had already been at work with Cherry’s pencil.
“If there isn’t Rachel Ray going to waltz with Walter Cornbury,” said Augusta to her mother. Augusta had just refused the odious Griggs, and was about to stand up with a clerk in the brewery, who was almost as odious.
“It’s because she came in the carriage,” said Mrs. Tappitt; “but I don’t think she can waltz.” Then she hurried off to welcome other comers.
Rachel had hardly been left alone for a minute, and had been so much bewildered by the lights and crowd and strangeness of everything around her, that she had been unable to turn her thoughts to the one subject on which during the last week her mind had rested constantly. She had not even looked round the room for Luke Rowan. She had just seen Mary Rowan in the crowd, but had not spoken to her. She had only known her from the manner in which Cherry Tappitt had spoken to her, and it must be explained that Rachel had not seen young Rowan since that parting under the elm-trees. Indeed, since then she had seen none of the Tappitt family. Her mother had said no word to her, cautioning her that she had better not seek them in her evening walks; but she had felt herself debarred from going into Baslehurst by all that her sister had said, and in avoiding Luke Rowan she had avoided the whole party from the brewery.
Now the room was partially cleared, the non-dancers being pressed back into a border round the walls, and the music began. Rachel, with
