THE BALL.
The evening of the ball, so much dreaded by the niece, and so much
longed for by the aunt, arrived at last; and by a chance not over common
in the affairs of mortals, while the hopes of the one lady were more
than realised, the fears of the other were proved to be altogether
groundless. Many favourable accidents, indeed, concurred to lessen the
difficulties anticipated by Agnes. In the first place, her almost
funereal robes (for which, if the truth be spoken, it must be avowed she
had not the slightest partiality,) assumed an appearance, under her
tasteful fancy, which surprised even herself; for though, when she set
about it, she had a sort of _beau ideal_ of a black crape robe floating
in her imagination, her hopes of giving it form and substance by her own
ingenuity were not very sanguine. Mrs. Barnaby, either from the depth of
her sorrow, or the height of her elegance, had commanded, when she
ordered her widow's mourning, that one dress should touch the heart of
every beholder by having a basement of sable crape one yard in breadth
around it. This doleful dress was costly, and had been rarely worn at
Silverton, that it might come forth in greater splendour at Exeter. But
at Exeter, as we have seen, the widow's feelings so completely
overpowered her, that she could not wear it at all; and thus it came
under the fingers of Agnes in very respectable condition. Of these
circumambulatory ells of crape, the young artificer contrived to
fabricate a dress that was anything but unbecoming. The enormous crape
_gigots_ (for those were the days of gigots), which made part of her
black treasure, hung from her delicate fair arms like transparent clouds
upon the silvery brightness of the moon ... so, at least, would
Frederick Stephenson have described it ... while the simple corsage,
drawn, _a la vierge_, rather higher than fashion demanded round her
beautiful bust, gave a delicate and sober dignity to her appearance,
that even those who would have deemed it "a pity to be so covered up"
themselves, could not but allow was exceedingly becoming.
As soon as her labour was ended, she prudently made an experiment of its
effect; and then, in "trembling hope" of her aunt's approval, made her
appearance before her. Her success here perfectly astonished her.
"Mercy on me, child!--What an elegant dress!--Where on earth did you get
it from?"
"From your gown, aunt."
"Oh, to be sure!--I understand. It is not many people that would give
away such a dress as that, Agnes--perfectly new, and so extremely
elegant. I hope it won't turn your brain, my dear, and that you will
never forget who gave it to you. Certainly I never thought you so
handsome before; and if you will but study my manner a little, and
smile, and show your fine teeth, I do really think I may be able to get
a husband for you, which would certainly be more creditable than going
out as a governess.... So you _can_ work, Agnes, I see ... and a good
thing too, considering your poverty. It does not look amiss upon the
whole, I must say; though I don't see any reason for your covering
yourself up so; I am sure your neck is white enough to be seen, and it
would be odd if it wasn't, considering who your mother was; for both she
and I were noted, far and near, for that beauty; but I can't say I ever
hid myself up in that way.... And what shoes, child, have you got to
wear with it?"
"These, aunt," said Agnes, putting out her little foot incased in
leather, with a sole of very respectable thickness.
"Well, upon my word, that's a pity ... it spoils all ... and I don't
think you could dance in them if you did get a partner.... What would
you say, Agnes, if I bought you a thin pair of prunella pumps on
purpose?"
"I should be very much obliged to you, aunt."
"Well, then, for once I must be extravagant, I believe; so, get on your
other gown, child, as quick as you can, and your bonnet and shawl, and
let us go to the shop round the corner. I did not mean to stir out
to-day ... there is wind enough to make one's eyes perfectly
blood-shot.... However, the shop's close by.... Only, if you do marry
well, I hope you will never forget what you owe me."
* * * * *
Agnes had been too hard at work to take any long walk, though invited to
do it; but her friend Mary called upon her both Monday and Tuesday; and
having found her way into the closet, seemed to think, as she pulled
over Agnes's books, and chatted with her concerning their contents, that
they might often enjoy themselves _tete-a-tete_ there.
"Shall you like it, Agnes?" she added, after sketching such a scheme to
her.
"I think, Mary, you could make me like anything ... but can I really
make _you_ like sitting in this cupboard, instead of your own elegant
drawing-room?"
"If you will sit with me here, my new friend," answered Miss Peters with
an air of great sincerity.
"Then must I not be wicked if I ever think myself unhappy again ... at
least, as long as we stay at Clifton."
"Dear girl!... you should not be so if I could help it.... But I must
go ... nine o'clock this evening, remember, and wait for us in the outer
room, if you do not find us already there."
These instructions Agnes repeated to her aunt; but that lady's ardent
temper induced her to order a fly to be at her door at half-past eight
precisely; and when it arrived, she was for at least the fourth time
putting the last finishing touch to her blonde, and her feathers, and
her ringlets, and her rouge, and therefore it took her not more than
five minutes for a last general survey, before she declared herself
"ready!" and Jerningham received orders to precede her down the stairs
with a candle.
If the former descriptions of the widow's appearance have not been
wholly in vain, the reader will easily conceive the increased splendour
of her charms when elaborately attired for a ball, without my entering
into any minutiae concerning them. Suffice it to say, that if the
corsage of the delicate Agnes might have been deemed by some too high,
that of Mrs. Barnaby might have been thought by others too low; and
that, taken all together, she looked exceedingly like one of the
supplementary dames brought forth to do honour to the banquet scene in
Macbeth.
Arriving half an hour before the time appointed, they, of course, did
not find the Peters family; nor did this latter party make their
appearance before the patience of Mrs. Barnaby had given way, and she
had insisted, much to the vexation of Agnes, upon going on to the
ball-room without them.
There the atmosphere was already in some degree congenial to her. The
lustres were blazing, the orchestra tuning, and a few individuals, as
impatient as herself, walking up and down the room, and appearing
greatly delighted at having something new to stare at.
This parade was beginning to realize all the worst fears of Agnes, (for
the room was filling fast, and Mrs. Barnaby would not hear of sitting
down,) when she descried Mrs. Peters, her son, her three daughters, and
two other gentlemen, enter the room.
Mrs. Barnaby saw them too, and instantly began to stride towards them;
but timidity now made Agnes bold, and she held back, still courageously
retaining her aunt's arm, and exclaiming eagerly,--
"Oh, let them come to us, aunt!"
"Nonsense, child!... Don't hold me so, Agnes; it will be exceedingly
rude if we do not join them immediately, according to our engagement."
The pain of violently seizing upon Mrs. Peters was, however, spared her
by the watchful kindness of Mary, who caught sight of them immediately,
and, together with Elizabeth, hastened forward to meet them.
Miss Peters gave a glance of approbation and pleasure at the appearance
of Agnes, who did not look the less beautiful, perhaps, from the deep
blush that dyed her cheeks as she marked the expression of Mrs. Peters'
countenance, as she approached with her eyes fixed upon her aunt. That
lady, however, let her have felt what she might at sight of her
remarkable-looking sister-in-law, very honourably performed her part of
the compact entered into with her daughters, smiling very graciously in
return for her affectionate relative's raptures at seeing her, and
shewing no symptom of anything she felt on the occasion, excepting
immediately retiring to the remotest corner of the room, where she very
nearly hid herself behind a pillar.
Mrs. Barnaby of course followed her, with the young ladies, to the seat
she had chosen; but her active genius was instantly set to work to
discover how she might escape from it, for the feelings produced by such
an eclipse were perfectly intolerable.
"I must pretend that I see some person whom I know," thought she, "and
so make one of the girls walk across the room with me;" but at the
instant she was about to put this project into execution, James Peters
came up to the party, and very civilly addressed her. This was
something, for the young man was handsome and well-dressed; but better
still was what happened next, for she immediately felt at once that she
was about to become the heroine of an adventure. Major Allen, whose
appearance altogether, including moustaches, favouris, collier grec,
embroidered waistcoat, and all, was very nearly as remarkable as her
own, entered the room, looked round it, fixed his eyes upon her spangled
turban, and very decisively turned off from the throng in order to pay
his compliments to the Peters' party, distinguishing her by a bow that
spake the profoundest admiration and respect.
Elizabeth was the last of the row, her mother (with Mrs. Barnaby next
her) being at the other end of it; and close to Elizabeth the dashing
Major placed himself, immediately entering into a whispered conversation
with her, which obliged her to turn herself round from the rest, in such
a manner that not even Lucy, who came next in order, could overhear much
of what passed.... Nevertheless, the widow felt as certain as if she
could have followed every word of it, that this earnest conversation was
about her.
Nor was she mistaken, for thus it ran:
"Good evening, Miss Elizabeth.... You are just arrived, I presume.... An
excellent ball, is it not?... I told you it would be.... What an
exceedingly fine woman your aunt is, Miss Peters!... It is your aunt, I
think?"
"Yes ... our aunt, certainly ... the widow of my mother's brother, Major
Allen."
"Ay.... I understood she was your aunt.... She is a woman of large
fortune, I hear?"
"Yes, very large fortune."
"But she is in lodgings, is she not?... She does not seem to have taken
the whole house."
"Oh, no ... only quite small lodgings: but she does not spend the third
of her income, nor near it."
"Really?... then, I suppose, handsome as she is, that she is a little
in the skin-flint line, eh?..." and here the Major shewed his
horse-like teeth by a laugh.
"Not that at all, I assure you," replied the young lady, amiably anxious
to exonerate her aunt from so vile an aspersion; "indeed, I should say
quite the contrary; for she has very generous and noble ideas about
money, and the use a widow ought to make of a fortune left by her
husband, in case she does not happen to marry again. I am sure I hope
people won't be so ill-natured as to say she is stingy because she does
not choose to spend all her income;--it will be abominable if they do,
because her motives are so very noble."
"I am sure she has a most charming advocate in you.... And what, then,
may I ask ... for what is noble should never be concealed ... what can
be the reason of economy so unnecessary?"
"She does not think it is unnecessary, Major Allen; for she has an
orphan niece who is left quite dependent upon her, and what she is
saving will be for her."
"Amiable indeed!... Then her property is only income, I presume? Really
that is a pity, considering how remarkably well such a disposition would
employ the capital."
"Oh! no, that is not so neither; my uncle Barnaby left everything
entirely at her own disposal; only she thinks," ... and here the silly
and loquacious Elizabeth stopped short, for the idea suddenly occurred
to her that it was not right to talk so much of her aunt's concerns to
so slight an acquaintance as Major Allen; and not exactly knowing how
to end her sentence, she permitted a sudden thought to strike her, and
exclaimed, "I wonder when they will begin dancing?"
But the Major had heard enough.
He resumed the conversation, however, but very discreetly, by saying,
"That young lady in mourning is her niece, I suppose? and a beautiful
creature she is.... But how comes she to be in such deep mourning, when
that of her aunt is so slight?"
Had the simple Elizabeth understood the principle of vicarial mourning
upon which these habiliments had been transferred from the widow to her
niece, she would doubtless, from the talkative frankness of her nature,
have disclosed it; but as her confidential conversation with her new
relative had left her ignorant of this, she answered, with rather a
confused recollection of Mrs. Barnaby's explanation, "I believe it is
because she wears it out of romantic sorrow for her own papa, though he
has been dead for years and years."
"Will you ask your brother, Miss Peters, to introduce me to Mrs.
Barnaby?"
"Certainly, Major Allen, if you wish it.... James," added the young
lady, stretching out her fan to draw his attention from Agnes, with whom
he was talking, "James, step here ... Major Allen wishes you to
introduce him to Mrs. Barnaby."
The Major rose at the moment, and strengthened the request by adding,
"Will you do me that honour, Mr. Peters?"
The young man bowed slightly, and without answering moved to the front
of the happy widow, followed by the obsequious Major, and said, "Major
Allen wishes to be introduced to you, Mrs. Barnaby.... Major Allen, Mrs.
Barnaby."
It was not without an effort that this consummation of her dearest hopes
was received with some tolerable appearance of external composure by the
lady; but she felt that the moment was an important one, and called up
all her energy to support her under it. Perhaps she blushed, but that,
for obvious reasons, was not perceptible; but she cast down her eyes
upon her fan, and then raised them again to the face of the bending
Major with a look that really said a great deal.
The established questions and answers in use on such occasions were
going on with great zeal and animation on both sides, when a fresh
source of gratification presented itself to the widow in the approach of
Mr. Frederick Stephenson to Agnes, in a manner as flatteringly decided
as that of the Major to herself; but, being quite a stranger to the
Peters family, he was preceded by the master of the ceremonies, who
whispered his name and family to Mrs. Peters, asking permission to
present him to the young lady in mourning, who appeared to be of her
party.
This was of course readily accorded; when the introduction took place,
and was followed by a petition from the young man for the honour of
dancing with her.
Agnes looked a vast deal more beautiful than he had ever dared to
believe possible through her veil as she answered, "I am engaged."
"Then the next?" said Mr. Stephenson eagerly.
Agnes bowed her blushing assent, and the young man continued to stand
before her, going through pretty nearly the same process as the Major.
This lasted till the quadrilles began to form, when James Peters claimed
her hand for the dance.
Two of the Miss Peters soon followed, when Major Allen said, "As the
young ladies are forsaking you, madam, may you not be induced to make a
party at whist?"
"I should have no objection whatever, Major," replied Mrs. Barnaby,
"provided there was room at a table where they did not play high."
"Of course, if I have the honour of making a table for you, my dear
madam, the stakes will be of your own naming.... Will you permit me to
go and see what can be done?"
"You are excessively kind.... I shall be greatly obliged."
The active Mars departed instantly, with a step, if not as light, at
least as zealous in its speed, as that of Mercury when bent upon one of
his most roguish errands, and in a wonderfully short space of time he
returned with the intelligence that a table was waiting for her. He then
presented his arm, which she took with condescending dignity, and led
her off.
"Ah! sure a pair were never seen,
So justly formed to meet by nature!"
exclaimed Mrs. Peters to Lucy, as they walked away; and greatly
relieved, she rose and taking her daughter by the arm, joined a party of
her friends in a more busy part of the room.
Meanwhile the quadrilles proceeded, and Agnes, notwithstanding the
heart-beating shyness inevitably attending a first appearance, did not
lose her look of sweet composure, or her graceful ease. James Peters was
an attentive and encouraging partner, and she would probably soon have
forgotten that this was the first time she had ever danced, except at
school, had she not, when the dance was about half over, perceived
herself to be an object of more attention to one of the standers-by than
any girl, so very new, can be conscious of, without embarrassment. The
eyes which thus annoyed her were those of Colonel Hubert. His remarkable
height made him conspicuous among the throng, which was rendered more
dense than usual by a wish, every moment increasing, to look at the
"beautiful girl in deep mourning;" and perhaps her happening to know
who he was, made her fancy that it was more embarrassing to be looked at
by him than by any one else. The annoyance, however, did not last long,
for he disappeared.
Colonel Hubert left the place where he had stood, and the study in which
he had certainly found some interest, for the purpose of looking for his
friend Stephenson. He found him in the doorway.
"Frederick, I want you," said the Colonel. "Come with me, my good
fellow, and I will prove to you that, notwithstanding my age and
infirmities, I still retain my faculties sufficiently to find out what
is truly and really lovely as ably as yourself. Come on, suffer yourself
to be led, and I will show you what I call a beautiful girl."
Stephenson quietly suffered himself to be led captive, and half a dozen
paces placed him immediately opposite to Agnes Willoughby.
"Look at that girl," said Colonel Hubert in a whisper, "and tell me what
you think of her."
"The angel in black?"
"Yes, Frederick."
"This is glorious, by Heaven!... Why, Hubert, it is my own black angel!"
"You do not mean to tell me that the girl we saw with that horribly
vulgar woman, and this epitome of all elegance, are the same?"
"But, upon my soul, I do, sir.... And now what do you say to the
advantage of being able to see through a thick veil?"
"I cannot believe it, Stephenson," ... replied Colonel Hubert, again
fixing his eyes in an earnest gaze upon Agnes.
"Then die in your unbelief, and much good may it do you. Why, I have
been introduced to her, man ... her name is Willoughby, and I am to
dance the next quadrille with her."
"If this be so ... peccavi!..." said the Colonel, turning abruptly
away.
"I think so," replied his friend following, and relinquishing even the
pleasure of looking at Agnes for that of enjoying his triumph over
Hubert. "Won't this make a good story?... And don't you think, Colonel,
that for a few years longer, at least, it may be as well to postpone
the adoption of your lady aunt's system, and when you see two females
together, look at both, to ascertain whether one of them may not be the
loveliest creature in the universe, before you give up your whole soul
to the amiable occupation of quizzing the other?"
"You think this is a very good jest, Frederick ... but to me, I assure
you, it seems very much the contrary."
"Because it is so melancholy for a man of five-and-thirty to lose his
eye-sight?"
"Because, Stephenson, it is so melancholy to know that such a being as
that fair girl is in the hands of a woman whose appearance speaks her to
be so utterly vulgar, to say the very least of it."
"Take care, my venerable philosopher, that you do not blunder about the
old lady as egregiously as you before did about the young one. When I
got the master of the ceremonies to perform for me the precious service
of an introduction, I inquired about the party that she and the
furbelow aunt were with, and learned that they were among the most
respectable resident inhabitants of Clifton."
"I am heartily glad of it, Frederick ... and yet, if their party
consisted of the noblest in the land, I should still feel this _aunt_ to
be a greater spot upon her beauty than any wart or mole that ever
disfigured a fair cheek ... at least, it would, I think, be quite
sufficient to keep my heart safe, if I thought this uncommon-looking
creature still more beautiful than I do ... which, I confess, would not
be easy."
"I wish your heart joy of its security," returned Stephenson. "And now
be off, and leave me to my happiness; for see, the set breaks up, and I
may follow her to her place, and again present myself.... Come, tell me
honestly, do you not envy me?"
"I never dance, you know."
"So much the worse for you, _mon cher_," and the gay young man turned
off, to follow the way that he saw Agnes lead. This was to the quarter
where she had left her aunt and Mrs. Peters, but she found neither.
"Don't be frightened," said her good-natured partner; "we shall find my
mother in a moment."... And when they did find her, she received Agnes
with a smiling welcome, which contrasted pretty strongly with the
stately and almost forbidding aspect with which she ever regarded Mrs.
Barnaby.
Young Stephenson saw this reception, and saw also the _empressement_
with which the pretty, elegant Mary Peters seemed to cling to her. More
than ever persuaded that he was right, and his friend wrong, he suddenly
determined on a measure that he thought might ensure a more permanent
acquaintance than merely being a partner of a dance; and before
presenting himself to claim her hand, he again addressed the master of
the ceremonies with a request that he would present him to Mrs. Peters.
That obliging functionary made not the least objection; indeed he knew
that there was not a lady in the room, either young or old, who would
not thank him for an introduction to Sir Edward Stephenson's handsome
brother, himself a Cornet in the Blues, and the inheritor of his
mother's noble estate in Worcestershire, which made him considerably a
richer man than his elder brother. All this was known to everybody, for
the beautiful Miss Hubert and her lover Sir Edward had been for a week
or two the lions of Clifton; and though they had mixed very little in
its society, there was nobody who could be considered as anybody, who
would not have been well pleased at making the acquaintance of Frederick
Stephenson. The young man, too, knew well how to make the most of the
ten minutes that preceded the second dance; and Mrs. Peters smiled to
think, as she watched him leading Agnes to join the set, how justly her
keeping faith had been rewarded by this introduction of the most
_desire_ partner in the room.
* * * * *
Meanwhile Mrs. Barnaby was led to the card-room by Major Allen; but he
led her slowly, and more than once found himself obliged to stop for a
minute or two, that she might not be incommoded by pressing too quickly
through the crowd. And thus it was they talked, as they gently won their
way.
"And what may be the stake Mrs. Barnaby permits herself?" said the
Major, bending forward to look into the widow's eyes.
"Very low, I assure you, Major!" replied the lady, with a wave of the
head that sent her plumes to brush the hirsute magnificence of his face.
"Shorts and crown points, perhaps," rejoined the Major, agreeably
refreshed by the delicate fanning he had received.
"Oh fie! Major ... how can you suspect me of such extravagance?... No,
believe me, I know too well how to use the blessings of wealth, to abuse
them by playing so high as that ... but I believe gentlemen think that
nothing?"
"Why no, my dear madam, I cannot say that men ... that is, men of a
certain fashion and fortune, think much of crown points.... For my own
part, I detest gambling, though I love whist, and never care how low I
play ... though occasionally, when I get into a certain set, I am
obliged to give way a little ... but I never exceed five pound points,
and twenty on the rubber; and that you know, unless the cards run
extravagantly high, cannot amount to anything very alarming ...
especially as I play tolerably well, and, in fact, never play so high if
I can help it...."
"But, Major," said the lady, stopping short in their progress, "I really
am afraid that I must decline playing at your table ... the amount of
what I could lose might not perhaps be a great object to me, any more
than to you ... but it is a matter of principle with me, and when that
is the case I never swerve ... so take me back again, will you, to my
sister Peters and my party."
This was said with a sort of clinging helplessness, and delicate
timidity, that was very touching.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed the Major with great animation, "how very
little you know me!... I would take you, charming Mrs. Barnaby, to the
world's end, if you would consent to go with me; ... but think not that
I would sit down at one table, though I might sweep from it stakes
amounting to thousands, when I could play with you for straws at
another!"
Remember, reader, that she to whom this was said had been Miss Martha
Compton of Silverton but six short years before, and then judge with
what feelings she listened to it. They were such, that for a moment no
power of speech was left to her ... but she abandoned her purpose of
retreat; and when at length they stood before the table at which two
sporting-looking gentlemen were waiting to receive them, she gently
seated herself, murmuring at the same time in the Major's ear, "Not
higher than half-crowns, if you please."
He pressed her hand as he resigned the arm with which she had favoured
him, and as he did so replied, "Depend upon me."
Before the arrangements for playing were finally settled, the friendly
Major Allen took the two gentlemen a pace or two apart, and communicated
in a few words what brought them back to the table, perfectly contented
with the half-crown, and gallantly anxious to have the honour of cutting
highest, that they might have the happiness of winning the lady as a
partner, if they won nothing else.
But this happiness fell to the Major, as well as most others during the
three or four rubbers that followed; for he and his fair partner played
with great luck, which helped to produce between them that amicable
state of spirits which tends to make every word appear a pleasantry, and
every look a charm.
In the midst of this very agreeable game, in the course of which both
the eyes and the voice of the widow proclaimed how very greatly she
enjoyed it, Colonel Hubert wandered into the room, and having given a
glance at one or two other tables as he passed them, stationed himself
on a sofa, from whence he commanded a full view of that at which Mrs.
Barnaby was engaged. His recent examination of her niece gave him a
feeling of interest in this aunt, that nearly superseded the amusement
he might otherwise have derived from her appearance and manner. That
both were likely to be affected by the intense interest and pleasure she
took in her occupation, as well as in the partner who shared it with
her, may be easily conceived, when it is stated that not even the
entrance of the magnificent Colonel was perceived by her.
Her vivacity, her _enjouement_, became more striking every moment; her
words were full of piquant and agreeable meaning, which her eyes
scrupled not to second; while the Major assumed more and more the air
and manner of a man enchanted and enamoured beyond the power of
concealment. But it was not the spirit of quizzing that sat upon Colonel
Hubert's brow as he contemplated this scene; on the contrary, his fine
countenance spoke first disgust, and then a degree of melancholy that
might have seemed ill befitting the occasion, and in a few minutes he
walked away and re-entered the ball-room.
Whether intentionally or not may be doubted; but he soon again found
himself opposite to the place which Agnes occupied in the quadrille, and
being there, watched her with a degree of attention that seemed equally
made up of curiosity and admiration. "It is strange," thought he, "that
the most repulsive and the most attractive women I ever remember to
have seen, should be so closely linked together."
In a few minutes the quadrille ended, when Mr. Stephenson, who had
danced it with the eldest Miss Peters, said to his friend as he passed
him, "We are now going to tea, and if you will come with us, I will
introduce you."
Colonel Hubert followed almost mechanically, yet not without a feeling
somewhat allied to self-reproach at permitting himself to join the party
of a Mrs. Barnaby.
This obnoxious individual was, however, nearly or rather wholly
forgotten within a very few minutes after the introduction took place.
Mrs. Peters's manners were, as we know, particularly lady-like and
pleasing, her daughters all pretty-looking, and one of them, at least,
singularly animated and agreeable, her son and the other gentlemen of
her party perfectly _comme il faut_, and Agnes ... what was Agnes in the
estimation of the fastidious, high-minded, and high-born Colonel Hubert?
He would have been totally unable to answer this question satisfactorily
himself, nor would it be just that a precise answer to it should be
expected from the historian. This interval of conversation and repose
lasted rather longer than usual; for the whole party (each for some
reason or other of their own) enjoyed it, or at any rate betrayed no
wish to bring it to a conclusion. Had Colonel Hubert, indeed, been told
that he enjoyed it, he would strenuously and sincerely have denied the
statement. He looked at Agnes with wonder and compassion strongly
blended,--he listened to the gay and artless tone of her conversation
with Mary Peters and young Stephenson, without being able to deny that,
whether she had fallen from the stars, or been raised and wholly
educated by that terrible incarnation of all he most detested, her
vulgar aunt, every word she uttered bore the stamp of well-bred
association, right feeling, and bright intelligence ... he allowed all
this, and he allowed too that never, through all the varieties of his
campaigning life, had he seen in any rank, or in any clime, a loveliness
so perfect; yet he almost trembled as he watched the passionate devotion
with which his friend gazed at and listened to her.
Colonel Hubert knew the character of Stephenson well; it was generous,
ardent, and affectionate in the highest degree; but passionate withal,
self-willed, and only amenable to control when it came in the shape of
influence exercised by friendship, unmixed with authority of any kind.
He was just three-and-twenty, and had been in possession of a noble
property from the day he attained the age of twenty-one. Singularly free
from vice of any kind, his friends, in seeing him take the management of
his estates into his own hands, had but one fear for him. It was not
racing, gambling, debauchery, or extravagance, they dreaded: had he
already passed fifty years of sober life exempt from all these, they
would scarcely have felt more secure of his being safe from them; but it
was in the important affair of marriage that they dreaded his
precipitancy. More than once already his distinguished and highly
connected family had been terrified by the idea that some irremediable
misfortune in this respect was about to fall upon them; and earnestly
did they wish that he should speedily form such a connexion as they
could approve, and had a right to expect. Unfortunately this wish had
been too evident; and the idea of being disposed of in marriage by his
brother and sisters had become a bugbear from which the young man shrank
with equal indignation and contempt. The marriage of his elder brother
with Miss Hubert had naturally led to great intimacy between the
families; and of all the acquaintance he had ever made, Colonel Hubert
was the one for whom Frederick Stephenson felt the warmest admiration
and esteem; and certainly he was more proud of the affectionate
partiality that distinguished individual had shewn him than of any other
advantage he possessed. Sir Edward Stephenson observed this, and had
told his betrothed Emma that he drew the best possible augury from it
for his brother's safety. "He is so proud of Montague's friendship,"
said he, "that it must be a most outrageous love-fit which would make
him hazard it by forming a connexion unworthy in any way. So jealously
does he deprecate the interference of his own family on this subject,
that I have long determined never more to let him see how near it is to
my heart ... and I will not even mention the subject to your brother,
lest, _par impossible_, he might ever discover that I had done so; but I
wish you, love, would say a word to him before we leave Clifton.... Tell
him that Frederick has still a great propensity to fall in love at first
sight, and that we shall all bless him everlastingly, if he will
prescribe change of air whenever he may happen to see the fit seize
him."
The fair Emma promised and kept her word; and such was the theme on
which their discourse turned the night before the wedding, when, Sir
Edward being engaged with the lawyer, who had just arrived from London
with the settlements, the brother and sister took that stroll upon the
pavement of Sion Row, which had first exhibited the stately figure of
Colonel Hubert to Mrs. Barnaby's admiration. Little did Agnes think,
when her head was made to obtrude itself through the window upon that
occasion, that her ears caught some words of a conversation destined to
prove so important to her future happiness.
That the "falling in love at first sight" had already taken place,
Colonel Hubert could not doubt, as he watched his enthusiastic friend's
look and manner, while conversing with Agnes, and gravely and
sorrowfully did he ponder on the words of his sister in their last
tete-a-tete.
"Save him, dearest Montague, if you can," said she, "from any folly of
this sort; for I really think Sir Edward would never be happy again if
Frederick formed any disgraceful marriage."
"And a disgraceful marriage it would and must be," thought he; "neither
her surpassing beauty ... nor her modest elegance either, can make it
otherwise."
As if sent by fate to confirm him in this conviction, the widow at this
moment approached the party, leaning on the arm of the Major. Having
finished her fifth rubber, and pocketed her sixteen half-crowns, Major
Allen's two friends pleaded an engagement elsewhere, and Mrs. Barnaby
accepted his offered escort to the tea-table.
A look of happiness is very becoming to many faces, it will often indeed
lend a charm to features that in sorrow can boast of none; but there
are others on which this genial and expansive emotion produces a
different effect, and Mrs. Barnaby was one of them. Her eyes did not
only sparkle, they perfectly glared with triumph and delight. She shook
her curls and her feathers with the vivacity of a Bacchante when tossing
her cymbals in the air; and her joyous laugh and her conscious whisper,
as each in turn attracted attention from all around, were exactly
calculated to produce just such an effect as the luckless Agnes would
have lived in silence and solitude for ever to avoid witnessing.
The _habile_ Major descried the party the instant he entered the room,
and led the lady directly to it. But the table was fully occupied, and
for a moment no one stirred but Agnes, who, pale and positively
trembling with distress, stood up, though without saying a word.
Mrs. Peters coloured, and for a second looked doubtful what to do; but
when she saw Major Allen address himself with the manner of an old
acquaintance to Elizabeth, she rose, and slightly saying, "I am sorry
you are too late for tea, Mrs. Barnaby," moved off, followed, of course,
by her daughters, and the gentlemen attending on them.
"I dare say we shall find a cup that will do ... never mind us....
Agnes, don't you go, but try that pot, will you, at the bottom of the
table; this is as dry as hay."
The Major was immediately on the alert, and seizing on the tea-pot
seized the hand of Agnes with it. Neck, cheeks, and brow were crimson in
an instant; and as she withdrew her hand from his audacious touch, her
eye caught that of Colonel Hubert fixed upon her. Shame, vexation, and
something almost approaching to terror, brought tears into that
beautiful eye, and for a moment the gallant soldier forgot everything in
an ardent longing to seize by the collar and fling from the chamber the
man who had thus dared to offend her. But Frederick Stephenson, who also
saw the action, quitted the side of his partner, contrary to all the
laws of etiquette, and quickly placing himself beside Agnes, bestowed
such a glance on the Major as immediately turned the attention of that
judicious personage to the tea-pot and Mrs. Barnaby.
"You dance with me now, Miss Willoughby," said young Stephenson, which,
as he had enjoyed that honour twice before, he had been too discreet to
hint at till the arrival of the widow and the Major had rendered her
being immediately occupied so particularly desirable. Agnes perfectly
understood his motive, and though her cheeks again tingled as she
remembered how impossible it was for her to run effectually from the
annoyance that so cruelly beset her, she felt touched and grateful for
his kindness; and the smile with which she accepted it, would have
sufficed to subdue the heart of Frederick had an atom of it been
unsubdued before.