Perhaps he looked at her somewhat steadily, as some others had done; at any rate, she seemed to feel that she was looked at, as people often do, and, turning her eyes suddenly on him, caught his own on her face, gave him a half-bashful smile, and threw in a blush involuntarily which made it more charming.
"What can I do better," he said to himself, "than have a dance with Rosa Milburn ?" So he carried his handsome pupil into the next room and took his place with her in a cotillon.

Whether the breath of the Goddess of Love could intoxicate like the cup of Circe,--whether a woman is ever phosphorescent with the luminous vapor of life that she exhales,--these and other questions which relate to occult influences exercised by certain women we will not now discuss.

It is enough that Mr.Bernard was sensible of a strange fascination, not wholly new to him, nor unprecedented in the history of human experience, but always a revelation when it comes over us for the first or the hundredth time, so pale is the most recent memory by the side of the passing moment with the flush of any new-born passion on its cheek.

Remember that Nature makes every man love all women, and trusts the trivial matter of special choice to the commonest accident.
If Mr.Bernard had had nothing to distract his attention, he might have thought too much about his handsome partner, and then gone home and dreamed about her, which is always dangerous, and waked up thinking of her still, and then begun to be deeply interested in her studies, and so on, through the whole syllogism which ends in Nature's supreme quod erat demonstrandum.

What was there to distract him or disturb him?
He did not know,--but there was something.