Chapter 5 - Page 2

realized that it was highly-polished oak, but she was
none the less afraid to move.

'I am afraid of falling down,' she said.

'Lean on me; you will soon get used to it,' he replied. 'You have no
nails in your shoes now, dear.'

His words, like all his words to her, were quite true. She found it
amazingly easy in a brief space of time. The floor, far from
hindering her, was a positive assistance to one of her natural
agility and litheness. Moreover, her marvellous dress of twelve
flounces inspired her as nothing else could have done. Externally a
new creature, she was prompted to new deeds. To feel as well-dressed
as the other women around her is to set any woman at her ease,
whencesoever she may have come: to feel much better dressed is to
add radiance to that ease.

Her prophet's statement on the popularity of the polka at this
juncture was amply borne out. It was among the first seasons of its
general adoption in country houses; the enthusiasm it excited to-
night was beyond description, and scarcely credible to the youth of
the present day. A new motive power had been introduced into the
world of poesy--the polka, as a counterpoise to the new motive power
that had been introduced into the world of prose--steam.

Twenty finished musicians sat in the music gallery at the end, with
romantic mop-heads of raven hair, under which their faces and eyes
shone like fire under coals.

The nature and object of the ball had led to its being very
inclusive. Every rank was there, from the peer to the smallest
yeoman, and Margery got on exceedingly well, particularly when the
recuperative powers of supper had banished the fatigue of her long
drive.

Sometimes she heard people saying, 'Who are they?--brother and
sister--father and daughter? And never dancing except with each
other--how odd?' But of this she took no notice.

When not dancing the watchful Baron took her through the drawing-
rooms and picture-galleries adjoining, which to-night were thrown
open like the rest of the house; and there, ensconcing her in some
curtained nook, he drew her attention to scrap-books, prints, and
albums, and left her to amuse herself with turning them over till the
dance in which she was practised should again be called. Margery
would much have preferred to roam about during these intervals; but
the words of the Baron were law, and as he commanded so she acted.
In such alternations the evening winged away; till at last came the
gloomy words, 'Margery, our time is up.'

'One more--only one!' she coaxed, for the longer they stayed the more
freely and gaily moved the dance. This entreaty he granted; but on
her asking for yet another, he was inexorable. 'No,' he said. 'We
have