We are to go on Monday to a private ball given by Mrs. Stanley, a very
fashionable lady of Mrs. Mirvan's acquaintance. I am afraid of this
ball; for, as you know, I have never danced but at school. However, Miss
Mirvan says there is nothing in it. Yet I wish it was over.
* * * * *
We passed a most extraordinary evening. A _private_ ball this was
called; but, my dear sir, I believe I saw half the world!
The gentlemen, as they passed and repassed, looked as if they thought we
were quite at their disposal, and only waited for the honour of their
commands; and they sauntered about in an indolent manner, as if with a
view to keep us in suspense.
Presently a gentleman, who seemed about six-and-twenty years old, gaily,
but not foppishly dressed, and indeed extremely handsome, with an air of
mixed politeness and gallantry, desired to know if I would honour him
with my hand. Well, I bowed, and I am sure I coloured; for indeed I was
frightened at the thought of dancing before so many strangers _with_ a
stranger. And so he led me to join in the dance.
He seemed desirous of entering into conversation with me; but I was
seized with such panic that I could hardly speak a word. He appeared
surprised at my terror, and, I fear, thought it very strange.
His own conversation was sensible and spirited; his air and address open
and noble; his manners gentle, attentive, and infinitely engaging; his
person is all elegance, and his countenance the most animated and
expressive I have ever seen. The rank of Lord Orville was his least
recommendation. When he discovered I was totally ignorant of public
places and public performers, he ingeniously turned the discourse to the
amusements and occupations of the country; but I was unable to go
further than a monosyllable in reply, and not even so far as that when I
could possibly avoid it.
Tired, ashamed, and mortified, I begged at last to sit down till we
returned home. Lord Orville did me the honour to hand me to the coach,
talking all the way of the honour I had done _him_! Oh, these
fashionable people!
* * * * *
There is no end to the troubles of last night. I have gathered from
Maria Mirvan the most curious dialogue that ever I heard. Maria was
taking some refreshment, and saw Lord Orville advancing for the same
purpose himself, when a gay-looking man, Sir Clement Willoughby, I am
told, stepped up and cried, "Why, my lord, what have you done with your
lovely partner?"
"Nothing!" answered Lord Orville, with a smile and a shrug.
"By Jove!" said the man, "she is the most beautiful creature I ever saw
in my life!"
Lord Orville laughed, but answered, "Yes, a pretty, modest-looking
girl!"
"Oh, my lord," cried the other, "she is an angel!"
"A silent one," returned he.
"Why, my lord, she looks all intelligence and expression!"
"A poor, weak girl," answered Lord Orville, shaking his head. "Whether
ignorant or mischievous, I will not pretend to determine; but she
attended to all I said to her with the most immovable gravity."
Here Maria was called to dance, and so heard no more.
Now, tell me, sir, did you ever know anything more provoking? "A poor,
weak girl! Ignorant and mischievous!" What mortifying words! I would not
live here for the world. I care not how soon I leave.
_III.--An Unlucky Meeting_