CHAPTER XI.

"FOR LOVE WILL STILL BE LORD OF ALL."

My Lady Carteret's ball was a brilliant success, and, fairest where all
were fair, Harrie Hunsden shone down all competitors. As she floated
down the long ball-room on the arm of Lord Ernest, light as a
swimming-sprite, a hundred admiring male eyes followed, and a hundred
fair patrician bosoms throbbed with bitterest envy.

"The little Hunsden is in full feather to-night," lisped George
Grosvenor, coming up with his adored Lady Louise on his arm. "There is
nothing half so beautiful in the room, with one exception. And only
look at Kingsland! Oh, he's done for, to a dead certainty!"

Sir Everard started up rather confusedly. He had been leaning against
a pillar, gazing after the divinity in the ivy crown, with his heart in
his eyes, and Lady Louise was the last person in the universe he had
been thinking of.

"We are losing our waltz, Mr. Grosvenor," she said, frigidly, "and we
are disturbing Sir Everard Kingsland. The 'Guards' Waltz' is a great
deal too delightful to be missed."

"I fancied the first waltz was to be mine, Lady Louise," Sir Everard
said, with an awful sense of guilt.

Lady Louise's blue eyes flashed fire.