That Girl in Black; and, Bronzie Read online

paleface a glow of colour was quickly spreading.

  "Good gracious!" he ejaculated mentally, "she is blushing! What abread-and-butter miss she must be--to _blush_ because a man's introducedto her. And I am to draw her out! It is really too bad of MrsEnglewood;" and he half began to turn away with a sensation ofindignation and almost of disgust.

  But positive rudeness where a woman was concerned did not come easy tohim. He stopped, and muttered something indistinctly enough about "thepleasure of a dance." The girl had grown pale again by this time, andin her eyes a half startled, almost pained expression was replacing theglad expectancy. As he spoke, however, something of the former lookreturned to them.

  "I--I shall be very pleased," she said. "I am not engaged foranything."

  "I should think not," he said to himself. "I am _quite_ sure you danceatrociously."

  But aloud he said with the slow, impassive tone in which some of hisadmirers considered him so to excel that "Despard's drawl" had itsschool of followers--

  "Shall we say the--the tenth waltz? I fear it is the first I canpropose."

  "Thank you," Miss Fforde replied. She looked as if she would have beenready to say more had he in the least encouraged it, but he, feelingthat he had done his duty, turned away--the more eagerly as at thatmoment he caught sight in the crowd of a lady he knew.

  "Mrs Marrinder! What a godsend!" he exclaimed.

  He did not see Miss Fforde's face as he left her, and, had he done so,it would have taken far more than his very average modicum ofdiscernment to have rightly interpreted the varying and curiouslyintermingling expressions which rapidly crossed it, like cloud shadowsalternating with dashes of sunshine on an April morning. She stood fora moment or two where she was, then glancing round and seeing a vacantseat in a corner she quietly appropriated it.

  "The tenth waltz," she repeated to herself with the ghost of a smile."I wonder--" but that was all.

  The evening wore on. Miss Fforde had danced once--but only once. Itwas with a man whom her host himself introduced to her, and, thoughgood-natured and unaffected, he was boyish and commonplace; and she hadto put some force on herself to reply with any show of interest to hisattempts at conversation. She was engaged for one or two other dances,but it was hot, and the rooms were crowded, and with a scarcelyacknowledged reflection--for Miss Fforde was young and inexperiencedenough to think it hardly fair to make an engagement even for but adance, to break it deliberately--that if her partners did _not_ find herit would not much matter, the girl withdrew quietly into a corner, wherea friendly curtain all but screened her from observation, and allowedher to enjoy in peace the dangerous but delightful refreshment of anopen window hard by.

  The draught betrayed its source, however. She was scarcely seated whenvoices approaching caught her ears.

  "Here you are--there must be a window open, it is ever so much cooler inthis corner. Are you afraid of the draught?" said a voice she thoughtshe recognised.

  "No-o--at least--oh, this corner will do beautifully. The curtain willprotect me. What a blessing to get a little air!" replied a secondspeaker--a lady evidently.

  "People have no business to cram their rooms so. And these rooms are--well, not spacious. How in the world did you get Marrinder to come?"

  The second speaker laughed. "It was quite the other way," she replied."How did he get me to come? you might ask. He has something or other todo with our host, and made a personal matter of my coming, so, ofcourse, I gave in."

  "How angelic!"

  "It is a penance; but we're going immediately."

  "I shall disappear with you."

  "You! Why you told me a moment ago that you were obliged to dance withsome _protegee_ of Mrs Englewood's--that she had made a point of it.And you haven't danced with her yet, to my certain knowledge," said thewoman's voice again.

  A sort of groan was the reply.

  "Why, what's the matter?" with a light laugh.

  "I had forgotten; you might have let me forget and go off with a clearconscience."

  "What is there so dreadful about it?"

  "It is that girl in black I have to dance with for my sins. Such alittle dowdy. I am convinced she can't waltz. It was truly putting oldfriendship to the test to expect it of me. And of all things I dodetest a bread-and-butter miss. You can see at a glance that this onehas never left a country village before. She--"

  But his further confidences were interrupted by the arrival of MrMarrinder in search of his wife.

  "You don't care to stay any longer, I suppose?" said the new-comer.

  "Oh,--no; I am quite ready. I _was_ engaged for this dance--the tenth,isn't it? But I am tired, and it doesn't matter. My partner, whoeverhe was, can find some one else. Good-night, Mr Norreys."

  "Let me go with you to the door at least," he replied. "I'll look aboutfor that girl in black on my way, so that if I don't see her I canhonestly feel I have done my duty."

  Then there came a flutter and rustling, and Miss Fforde knew that herneighbours had taken their departure.

  She waited an instant, and then came out of her corner.

  "He is not likely to come back to look for me in this room," shethought; "but in case he possibly should, I--I shall not hide myself."

  She had had a moment's sharp conflict with herself before arriving atthis decision; and her usually pale face was still faintly flushed when,slowly making his way in the direction of the sofa where she had nowconspicuously placed herself, she descried Mr Norreys.

  "Our dance--the tenth--I believe," he said, with an exaggeration ofindifference, sounding almost as if he wished to irritate her intomaking some excuse to escape.

  In her place nine girls out of ten would have done so, and withouttroubling themselves to hide their indignation. But Maisie Fforde wasnot one of those nine. She rose quietly from her seat and took his arm.

  "Yes," she said, "it is our dance."

  Something in her voice, or tone, made him glance at her with a shademore attention than he had hitherto condescended to bestow on "MrsEnglewood's _protegee_" She was looking straight before her; herfeatures, which he now discovered to be delicate in outline, and almostfaultlessly regular in their proportions, wore an expression of perfectcomposure; only the slight, very slight, rose-flush on her cheeks wouldhave told to one who knew her well of some inward excitement.

  "By Jove!" thought Despard, "she's almost pretty--no, pretty's not theword. I never saw a face quite like it before. I suppose I didn't lookat her, she's so badly, at least so desperately plainly dressed. Idon't, however, suppose she can talk, and I'd bet any money she can'tdance."

  As regarded the first of his predictions, she gave him at present noopportunity of judging. She neither spoke nor looked at him. Hehazarded some commonplace remark about the heat of the rooms; shereplied by a monosyllable. Despard began to get angry.

  "_Won't_ talk, whether she _can_ or not," he said to himself, when asecond observation had met with no better luck. He glanced round theroom; all the other couples were either dancing, or smiling and talking.He became conscious of a curious sensation as disagreeable as novel--hefelt as if he were looking ridiculous.

  He turned again to his partner in a sort of desperation.

  "Will you dance?" he said, and his tone was almost rough; it hadentirely lost its usual calm, half-insolent indifference.

  "Certainly," she said, while a scarcely perceptible smile faintly curvedher lips. "It is, I suppose, what we are standing up here for, is itnot?"

  Despard grew furious. "She is laughing at me," he thought."Impertinent little nobody. Where in Heaven's name has GertrudeEnglewood unearthed her from? Upon my soul, it is the very last timeshe will see me at her dances!"

  And somehow his discomfiture was not decreased by a glance, and almostinvoluntary glance, at Miss Fforde as they began to dance. She wascertainly not striking in appearance; she was middle-sized, barely thatindeed; her dress was now, he began to perceive, plain with theplainness of intention,
not of ignorance or economy. But yet, with itall--no, he could not honestly feel that he was right; she did not looklike "a nobody."

  There was a further discovery in store for him. The girl dancedbeautifully. Mr Norreys imagined himself to have outlived allenthusiasm on such subjects, but now and then, in spite of the _role_which was becoming second nature to him, a bit of the old Despard--thehearty, unspoilt boy--cropped out, so to speak, unawares. This happenedjust now--his surprise had to do with it.

  "You dance perfectly--exquisitely!" he burst out when at last theystopped. It was his second dance that evening only; neither he nor MissFforde