the ranks to rest and talk. Percival was well pleased. It is true that he
had memories of waltzes with Sissy Langton of more utter harmony, of
sweeter grace, of delight more perfect, though far more fleeting. But
Lottie, with her steady swiftness and her strong young life, had a charm of
her own which he was not slow to recognize. She would hardly have thanked
him for accurately classifying it, for as she danced she felt that she had
discovered a new joy. Her old life slipped from her like a husk. Friendship
with Cock Robin was an evident absurdity. It is true she was angry with
herself that, after fighting so passionately for freedom, she should
voluntarily bend her proud neck beneath the yoke. She foresaw that her
mother and Addie would triumph; she felt that her bondage to Mrs. Grundy
would often be irksome; but here was the first instalment of her wages in
this long waltz with Percival. She fancied that the secret of her pleasure
lay in the two words--"with Percival." In her ignorance she thought that
she was tasting the honeyed fire of love, when in truth it was the
sweetness of conscious success. Before the last notes of that enchanted
music died away she had cast her girlish devotion, "half in a rapture and
half in a rage," at her partner's feet, while he stood beside her calm and
self-possessed. He would have been astounded, and perhaps almost disgusted,
had he known what was passing through her mind.

Love at sixteen is generally only a desire to be in love, and seeks not so
much a fit as a possible object. Probably Lottie's passion offered as many
assurances of domestic bliss as could be desired at her age.

Percival was dark, foreign-looking and handsome: he had an interesting air
of reserve, and no apparent need to practise small economies. His clothes
fitted him extremely well, and at times he had a way of standing proudly
aloof which was worthy of any hero of romance. No settled occupation would
interfere with picnics and balls; and, to crown all, had he not said to