Nell sat still--very, very still. The vast room seemed to rise and sway
before her like a ship in a heavy sea; the lights danced in a mad whirl;
the music roared a chaos of sound in her ears, and a deathly feeling
crept over her.

"I will not faint--I will not faint!" she said to herself, clenching her
teeth hard, and gripping her dress with her cold hands. "It is a
mistake--a mistake. It is not Drake. I thought I saw him the other
night; it is thinking, always thinking of him, that makes me fancy any
one like him must be he! Yes; it is a mistake."

She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them and found
that the room had ceased rocking, and the lights were still, she leaned
forward, calling all her courage to her aid, and looked again.

A waltz was in progress, and the rich dresses, the flashing jewels
whirled like the colored pieces of a kaleidoscope, and for a moment or
two she could not distinguish the members of the glittering crowd; but
presently she saw the tall figure again. He was dancing with Lady Luce;
they came down toward the gallery end of the room, floating with the
exquisite grace of a couple whose steps are in perfect harmony, and Nell
saw that she had made no mistake--that it was Drake indeed.

She drew a long breath, and sank back; Mrs. Hawksley leaned toward her.