Lieutenant Brant was somewhat delayed in reaching the scene of Miss
Spencer's social triumph. Certain military requirements were largely
responsible for this delay, and he had patiently wrestled with an
unsatisfactory toilet, mentally excoriating a service which would not
permit the transportation of dress uniforms while on scouting detail.
Nevertheless, when he finally stepped forth into the brilliant
moonlight, he presented an interesting, soldierly figure, his face
still retaining a bit of the boy about it, his blue eyes bright with
expectancy. That afternoon he had half decided not to go at all, the
glamour of such events having long before grown dim, but the peculiar
attraction of this night proved too strong; not thus easily could he
erase from memory the haunting witchery of a face. Beyond doubt, when
again viewed amid the conventionalities, much of its imagined charm
would vanish; yet he would see her once more, although no longer
looking forward to drawing a prize.
The dance was already in full swing, the exciting preliminaries having
been largely forgotten in the exuberance of motion, when he finally
pushed his way through the idle loungers gathered about the door, and
gained entrance to the hall. Many glanced curiously at him, attracted
by the glitter of his uniform, but he recognized none among them, and
therefore passed steadily toward the musicians' stand, where there
appeared to be a few unoccupied chairs.
The scene was one of color and action. The rapid, pulsating music, the
swiftly whirling figures, the quivering drapery overhead, the bright
youthful faces, the glow of numerous lamps, together with the ceaseless
voices and merry shuffling of feet, all combined to create a scene
sufficiently picturesque. It was altogether different from what he had
anticipated. He watched the speeding figures, striving in vain to
distinguish the particular one whose charms had lured him thither. He
looked upon fair faces in plenty, flushed cheeks and glowing eyes
skurried past him, with swirling skirts and flashes of neatly turned
ankles, as these enthusiastic maids and matrons from hill and prairie
strove to make amends for long abstinence. But among them all he was
unable to distinguish the wood-nymph whose girlish frankness and grace
had left so deep an impression on his memory. Yet surely she must be
present, for, to his understanding, this whole gay festival was in her
honor. Directly across the room he caught sight of the Reverend Mr.
Wynkoop conversing with a lady of somewhat rounded charms, and picked
his way in their direction.
The missionary, who had yet scarcely recovered from the shock of
Moffat's impulsive speech, and who, in truth, had been hiding an
agonized heart behind a smiling face, was only too delighted at any
excuse which would enable him to approach Miss Spencer, and press aside
those cavaliers who were monopolizing her attention. The handicap of
not being able to dance he felt to be heavy, and he greeted the
lieutenant with unusual heartiness of manner.