Wordes sharply wound, but greatest grief of scorning growes.
SPENSER.
Tal d'un alma l'effanno sepolto
Si travede in un riso fallace,
Chè la pace mal finge nel volto
Chi si sente la guerra nel cor.
METASTASIO.
Mr. Singleton breakfasted at nine o'clock; and it was the custom of the
house for everybody to appear at that meal. At half past eight, the
worthy squire read prayers in the chapel; and at this ceremony all the
servants, and such visitors as pleased, attended.
This had been a custom in the house from the days of Edward the Sixth;
and Mr. Singleton would on no account have omitted it; though his
performance of this duty was something odd. Any one might have thought
from his tones, that he was calling over the names of his hounds.
Margaret made a point of attending; and found Mrs. Singleton, Harriet,
and Mr. Humphries assembled.
As soon as prayers were over, Harriet hurried off to make breakfast; and
commanded Margaret to sit beside her; and by degrees the rest of the
visitors assembled round the table. Some little time after they were all
collected, George Gage came into the room; made some very earnest
inquiries after Mrs. Singleton's health; which that lady imperfectly
heard, and replied to very mildly; and then begged to know whether Miss
Capel had recovered the fatigue of her journey. Having received a
satisfactory answer to this question, he remained standing on the
hearth-rug, looking at all the people, as if they were eating and
drinking for his sole amusement.
"Do you ever eat breakfast, Mr. Gage?" asked Harriet, after he had
remained some time in the same position.
"Thank you--yes. I breakfasted an hour ago."
"How was that?" asked Mr. Singleton. "What made you so early afield?"
"I was anxious about one of my horses," said Mr. Gage. "I was afraid he
had sprained his shoulder; and as I wished to see him early this
morning--I breakfasted at the same time."
"Oh, but that is important!" said Mr. Humphries, rising hastily, and
pulling the table-cloth crooked as he rose, "shall I go and have a look
at him?"
"Sit still, Mr. Humphries;" said Harriet. "Horses, we know, are much
more amiable and important than their masters. Still, as the masters
must be fed some time or other, they had better take their meals at the
proper hour. The horse will wait till you have finished your breakfast."
Mr. Singleton and Mr. Humphries laughed heartily at this address; and
Mr. Gage informed Mr. Humphries, that he need not trouble him to look at
the horse, for that he seemed to be perfectly well this morning.
Mr. Humphries nodded to express his acquiescence in this remark, and
continued eating; and Mr. Singleton noticing, for the first time, that
Harriet was not dressed in her habit, asked in astonishment why she was
not going out hunting with them as usual.
"Yes, you will have a great loss in me," said Harriet laughing. "I
intend to disappoint the field. I am not going to run off this first day
that I have Miss Capel with me; and I have something to do--I intend to
call on the Veseys in the course of the morning."
"Wait till to-morrow, and I'll drive you over;" said Mr. Singleton. "I
should like to call on the Veseys myself."
"Indeed you won't, Uncle Singleton," said Harriet. "You always knock my
bonnet with your elbow as you get in and out of the carriage. I vowed
the last time I let you drive me, you should not sacrifice my next best
bonnet in that worthless way."
"Ha! ha!" said Mr. Singleton, "what does it signify? You have the best
seat and the best horse in the country, and what matters spoiling your
bonnet."
"Go! you have no feelings," said Harriet. "I mean to ride to the Veseys
to-day, and Margaret and Evan shall accompany me; and so we shall
trouble nobody, good uncle. Another cup of tea, Mr. Humphries? Why you
make absolutely no breakfast! Is this a preparation for a day's hard
hunting? Try that curried lobster."
"Ha! ha! thank you Miss Conway, I think I have done very well," said Mr.
Humphries; looking on the wrecks scattered on and around his plate.
Everybody was inclined to be of his opinion; and Margaret wondered how
Harriet could say such things with a grave face.
"I wish," pursued Mr. Humphries, "this was not a hunting morning,
because it would be so pleasant to ride with you to the Veseys."
"But which is the attraction, Mr. Humphries? Is it Mrs. Vesey, or I, or
my friend, Miss Capel? Do now be confidential and tell me; I will keep
your secret, upon my word!"
Mr. Humphries laughed bashfully; he could not very well scrape his foot
when seated; but he made a gesture something as if he wished to lift up
the table-cloth, and disappear beneath it. George Gage, looking every
moment more haughty, stared down upon Harriet and Mr. Humphries in
speechless contempt.
At last he coldly recommended Mr. Humphries not to lose a day at that
time of year; for that his groom predicted a frost soon, and he had
never known the fellow mistaken in the weather.
"Is that the man you had from Mr. Singleton's," asked Harriet.
"Yes--Thompson," replied Mr. Gage.
"Ah!" returned Harriet, "he was well brought up; it would be his own
fault if he did not learn to understand horses here."
"Did Captain Gage keep the lad I recommended him?" asked Mr. Singleton.
"Not long," replied Mr. Gage. "I never saw any thing so wretched as my
father's management of his stables. He never bought a horse that he was
not palpably cheated; and, if he chanced to buy a good one, the animal
would be ruined, with that lame old sailor at the head of affairs."
"Don't say one word against Captain Gage," exclaimed Harriet. "Whatever
he does is sure to be better than any body else. I do not mean wiser,
Mr. Gage, but better. Perhaps no one else would choose to have a lame
sailor with one eye to superintend his stables. It shows he has more
kindness than his neighbours."
"He might have pensioned the old fellow, if he was so fond of him,
instead of keeping him to do mischief," said Mr. Gage; pleased, however,
with the tribute to his father's goodness of heart. "He once ruined a
splendid pointer of mine with his nonsense; and even Hubert, a fellow
who has spent his life in a frigate, could not help seeing how things
were going on."
Here Mr. Humphries, whose extraordinary face had brightened up as much
as it could, during this discussion, attempted to express incoherently,
his admiration of Captain Gage's conduct.
"Depend on it, Mr. Humphries," said Harriet, "that sailors are the best
people extant. They are all that is left of the romance of warfare. Like
the knights of the Middle Ages, there is a simple reality about them
that does not belong to the present time."
"Harriet means to say, they are the only people who are not humbugs,"
said Evan Conway, translating his sister's remark.
"It is very true, Miss Conway," said Mr. Humphries; who, it need not be
said, did not understand one word that she had uttered; "I always liked
sailors very much. Don't you think Miss Capel would be generally
considered pretty?"
"Undoubtedly, Mr. Humphries. I was sure your good taste would discover
that."
"They are bringing round the horses, Miss Conway. I wish we were to have
the pleasure of your company."
"It is a great temptation, Mr. Humphries; but another time. How well you
look in your red coat--it is the most becoming dress--"
"No--do you think so!" said Mr. Humphries, with a visible desire to
vanish under the table. "No--I never noticed. I say, Miss Conway, I hope
we shall have another duet this evening."
"So do I. You cannot suppose I often meet with such a second; and I am
very fond of music."
"Come, Humphries," said Mr. Gage, stalking past them as he spoke; "there
is your horse playing the deuce out yonder, standing so long."
This was a summons he could not neglect; and after scrambling for his
pocket handkerchief, which had dropped under his chair, Mr. Humphries
quitted the room.
"Oh, Harriet!" exclaimed Margaret, with a serious look, when the other
ladies had disappeared in company with Mrs. Singleton.
"Oh, little Puritan! what is the matter now?" returned Harriet, catching
her round the waist, and whirling her in a rapid waltz round and round
the large room.
"How you do flirt," said Margaret, pausing, with her hand to her side.
"You should be the last person to accuse me," said Harriet, laughing.
"I asked you, if you would have the man. You declined the honour, and
therefore it is no business of yours."
"It is a business of some other persons, then," said Margaret, archly.
"What other person?"
"Mr. Gage."
"You don't say so!" returned Harriet, crossing the room, and leaning
through the deep oaken doorway, "Evan!"
"At your service," returned her brother, coming in with the morning
paper in his hand.
"We mean to ride at two; and you may accompany us."
"Thank you very much."
"Will this be your first essay in horsemanship?" asked Margaret,
smiling.
"Ha! Miss Capel, you remember what I said to you. A great point that--I
feel highly flattered by it."
Margaret smiled quietly, and moved away. She had too much
self-possession to be either flattered or pleased by his ironical
civility.
When they went upstairs to prepare for their ride, Harriet, whose ways
were singularly independent, came into Margaret's room, half attired,
and stood before the large glass arranging her habit.
"Look here, Margaret," said she, "you should wear a waistcoat."
"Masculine?"
"Not at all; copy me, my dear, I dress very well on horseback."
"So you do at all times, I think," said Margaret.
"Much obliged. I say, what do you think of Evan?"
"I should be so very likely to tell you truly," said Margaret.
"Then I will tell you what to think of him," said Harriet, "he has an
excellent head, my dear, but no heart; he thinks he will be a very great
man. I differ from him; no very great man ever was heartless. He will be
only a little above the middle size. I like him very much."
"How odd you are, Harriet."
"Do you think so, ma mie? What a pretty Victorine you have--sable I
see."
"Now, Mr. Humphries--ha! ha! one cannot help laughing when one thinks of
him--has a capital heart, but no head. Which do you like best,
Margaret?"
"The heart," replied Margaret.
"But then, my dear, like most Englishmen, his nerves are actually made
of pack thread; he has not a grain of sensibility. He is ugly. I tell
Evan sometimes that he is ugly to a misfortune; but this man is ugly to
a fault. But he is an excellent son to a very tiresome old mother;
honest, good-natured, rich, obstinate. I do not know if he has any other
qualities, or I would tell you. I think it my duty to walk you over the
course, you perceive."
"You make an excellent chaperon, Harriet."
"But Margaret," said Harriet with a hurried change of manner, "I never
knew anything so good as George coming here just now. It gives me
pleasure to see that I can torment his pride, not his feelings; but his
absurd haughty conceit, that I was to remain his slave under all
treatment. I do not care for him the least atom, and I despise his
coming to pry into my concerns, to investigate and to triumph in my
distress, as he thinks, on Lucy's marriage. I can turn the tables on
him, and I will!"
"Indeed, Harriet," said Margaret, "it is hardly generous in you to take
that view of Mr. Gage's conduct. I think he would not have taken so much
trouble, if he had not been very much interested about you. I think ever
since I have known you both, he has appeared to feel anything but
indifference to you; and if you cannot return his feelings, is it fair
to treat them with contempt?"
Margaret spoke earnestly, yet half afraid of giving offence; but to her
surprise, as soon as she had finished, her eccentric friend caught her
in her arms, and kissed her heartily; then gathering up the long folds
of her habit she hastened down stairs.
Mr. Evan Conway was leaning against the neck of his sister's horse,
without his hat, or any sign of being prepared to accompany the ladies;
a groom was mounted, and in waiting. He helped them both to mount,
arranged their dresses with great care and then left them.
"So we are not to have the honour of your company," Harriet called after
him.
He replied by a shake of the head, and went into the house.
They paid their visit. Mrs. Vesey was a young married woman, with four
or five small children, who very much occupied her time and thoughts.
The conversation was chiefly made up of things which Johnny and Matilda
had said; of the quarrel which Harry had with the nurse, and the
beautiful cake which uncle Richard had sent to Mary on her birthday.
Then the children were produced, in velvet frocks, and long trained
ringlets of white hair, and these having been kissed and praised
enough, the two friends took their leave.
"Ah, that is over!" said Harriet, when they rode off, "I like children
well enough, Margaret, to make hay with, or play at blindman's buff; but
I always long to pinch those little dressed up dolls. If Lucy should
have any olive branches, I shall make them as rude and as natural as
possible."
"How soft the wind is," said Margaret, "it is often colder than this in
summer."
It was certainly a mild day for November. Although the twilight was
coming on, there was nothing chilly in the air. The wind drove slowly
before it large floating masses of grey clouds; the leafless trees
rocked majestically to and fro in the dim light; and the scent of the
air, and of the fallen leaves was soft and refreshing.
Before they had gone very far they were overtaken by Mr. Gage and Mr.
Humphries, who were returning from hunting.
"Well--oh! now--come!" exclaimed Mr. Humphries, who was sometimes
troubled with incoherence, "how glad I am that we came home this way."
"It is, indeed, a very fortunate circumstance," said Mr. Gage,
addressing himself pointedly to Margaret, "I hope you will really value
our escort now that it is growing so dark."
"Yes, it is a lonely road about here," said Mr. Humphries, closing up to
Harriet.
"I never am afraid of anything," said Harriet, "but I am glad of your
company, because I wish to know what sort of a run you had."
Mr. Humphries was very much enlivened by this demand upon his
descriptive powers. By the aid of a very few words, and a great many
extraordinary gestures, he conveyed to Harriet the information she
desired.
Mr. Gage, looking the very impersonation of injured pride, suffered them
to take the lead, and then riding up close to Margaret, and laying his
hand affectionately on the mane of her horse, he exerted all his powers
to make himself agreeable.
He was intent on persuading Margaret to ride some day to the place where
the hunters met. It was a very gay scene on a fine morning, and would
make a pleasant change for her. Although nobody could disapprove more
strongly than he did, a lady following the hounds, yet just to ride to
cover, and go quietly home again, he thought quite feminine, and
perfectly allowable.
Margaret, who readily perceived that Mr. Gage was extremely angry with
Harriet, and that this was the cause of his invectives against ladies
hunting, could not help smiling, but she willingly consented to his
plan, provided he could secure her a horse so conveniently stupid, as
not to become excited by the scene. And then, the spirit of romance
being not yet extinguished within her, she began turning over in her own
mind how she could manage that Mr. Gage should ride next to Harriet.
Chance effected the transfer for her; in turning down a lane, Mr.
Humphries reined back his horse, and Mr. Gage pushing forward at the
same time, the man[oe]uvre was accomplished. But it seemed to very
little purpose. Harriet kept her head perversely turned to the
hedge-row, as if bent on counting the feathered clusters of traveller's
ivy, which adorned the wayside, or else leaning back in her saddle, she
addressed some laughing remark to those behind. While Margaret rose very
high in the opinion of Mr. Humphries, from the simple and kind answers
she gave to all his questions, and from the grace with which she guided
her delicate looking steed. He began to think that she might be
deserving of a share in the rich estates which his prudent mamma was
always cautioning him against offering to any lady who gave evidence of
particularly wishing for them. It was very easy to see that this worthy
young man was not gifted with any great degree of sensibility, but yet
Margaret was a little surprised when, after a few remarks interchanged
about their favourite colours for dogs, horses, &c.; her companion,
looking rather uncomfortable, which was his nearest approach to a
sentimental state of mind, suddenly asked her if some fellow who wrote
had not said that music was the food of love, and if she thought it was.
Margaret, with her gentle voice, turned to him and said that Shakspeare
was very great authority; and that such love as he depicted in his
lighter plays she dared say could be fed very well upon music. That she
thought, after all, he put it as a question, not as a remark, but that
she would ask Harriet, who was a great reader of Shakspeare.
"No, don't," said Mr. Humphries uneasily, "Miss Conway would only
laugh."
But Harriet, having caught the word love, insisted on the question being
referred to her, and as soon as she could speak for laughing, "Look you,
Mr. Humphries," she said, "music is the food of love, and love is the
food of fools; but if you have any curiosity to hear the line in
question it is this,--
'If music be the food of love, play on.'"
Mr. Humphries thanked Harriet, made several gestures expressive of great
confusion, and then resumed his dialogue with Margaret.
"Do you think, Miss Capel," he continued, "that anybody can love twice?"
"No, Mr. Humphries," returned Margaret quietly.
"No, Miss Capel?" said Mr. Humphries uneasily.
"I think not," replied Margaret smiling at the question.
"But then, Miss Capel, if one is prevented from marrying one's first
love, what can one do?"
"Those who think love necessary must remain single you know, Mr.
Humphries; but most people will marry some one else."
And so completely did she feel that love with her was past for ever,
that she discussed the topic with as much calmness as if she had been
fifty years old.
"But one would not like to keep single for ever, you know, Miss Capel,"
said Mr. Humphries.
Margaret highly amused at the idea of being selected as a confidante on
such short notice, merely laughed at this declaration; which Mr.
Humphries enforced by one of his widest smiles thereby disclosing, the
only beauty he possessed; namely, a singularly fine set of teeth.
It was almost dark when they arrived before the Manor House, but Harriet
insisted that there was light enough to see some remarkably curious
birds, which were kept in a part of the ornamental grounds.
Mr. Gage and Margaret could not but follow, although he represented to
her the imprudence of hanging over a pond at sunset after being heated
with riding.
The pond turned out to be a very pretty lake with little rocky dwellings
for the water-fowl.
Harriet stood almost in the water feeding them with bread, which she had
provided herself with at the house; she offered some to Margaret, but
Mr. Gage urged so strongly the danger of remaining in the damp, that
Margaret, a little frightened, complied.
Harriet laughing at her caution remained with Mr. Humphries making ducks
and drakes, to the great surprise of the water-fowl.
Mr. Gage, as usual, to relieve his feelings, paid the most careful
attention to Margaret; selected the dryest paths for her; insisted on
disencumbering her of her riding whip, which might weigh a quarter of an
ounce; admired its agate handle, pitied the troublesome draperies in
which she was enveloped, and pointed out, as they went along, the most
beautiful parts of the landscape; all the while with his moustache so
close to the rim of her hat, that any one looking from the windows,
might have imagined, with some show of reason, that he intended to
salute her.
Mr. Singleton seemed surprised to see Margaret enter the drawing-room
without her friend; but on hearing where she had left her, he laughed
heartily, and said it was all right; for that Humphries was the best
fellow in the world, and if a young lady were to run off with him, she
would never be sorry for it afterwards.
Just as dinner was announced, Harriet hurried into the room followed by
Mr. Humphries, still attired in her riding habit; threw her hat on an
ottoman, put her hand on her uncle's mouth to stop the remonstrance he
was beginning to make, and desired him to find her a beau.
Mr. Singleton turned to look for George Gage, but he, in the same
moment, offered his arm to Margaret and led her off. Harriet saw the
man[oe]uvre by which he avoided being her neighbour at dinner; she
willingly accepted the arm of Mr. Humphries, transferred herself to the
opposite side of the table, just under Mr. Gage's eye, and then began a
very systematic flirtation with her partner. She talked to him of dogs
and horses until he became really animated, and so engrossed that he
could hardly be made to understand that Mr. Singleton wished to take
wine with him. She complimented him on his choice in those articles
until she so overpowered him with pleasant confusion that he repeatedly
threatened to disappear under the table-cloth, and she suffered him to
talk upon choir singing, opera singing, glee singing, and all other
singing, with an eager interest that was sufficiently visible to the
whole table.
Margaret glanced uneasily at Mr. Gage, who had placed himself beside
her. Once or twice, when Harriet was most animated, he glanced at her
and her companion with an air of some surprise and curiosity, but with a
more complete appearance of indifference than might have been expected.
It was plain that he was not quite so much the slave of her flexible
moods as Harriet would fain have made him.
And Margaret thought with a sigh, that these two persons, so strongly
and constantly attached, would go through life without ever coming to an
understanding, because each was too proud to let the other see how
unchanged their first feelings had remained.
To the company around the table, Mr. Gage appeared to be entirely
engrossed by his beautiful neighbour, in whose ear he was whispering a
variety of pleasing nothings; while the match between Harriet and Mr.
Humphries, long pending and often doubted, was now declared to be
finally arranged. They had made and accepted the proposal at the pond,
and she was civil to him, at last, in her manners. It was high time that
she should be civil to some one--perhaps marriage would improve her--and
really she had been out some years, and was glad, no doubt, to take any
one who came forward. So said Mrs. Pottinger and Mrs. Markham; and
Harriet's spoilt and wayward temper left no milder impression upon the
greater number of her country neighbours.
But Mr. Singleton, when the dessert was set on the table, observed, with
some alarm, the flushed cheek and sparkling eye of his niece.
"Hallo, Harriet!" he exclaimed.
"Well, Sir," she replied.
"What is the matter with you?"
"Nothing at all, good uncle; let me recommend you to attend to your
claret, instead of staring me out of countenance."
"Don't go and catch cold again--that's all," said Mr. Singleton.
"Never fear, Sir," returned Harriet, shortly.
"Are you subject to colds?" asked Mr. Humphries.
"Not at all. I have one now and then, like other people."
"You have them very badly when they do come," said Mr. Singleton.
"I don't know a greater bore," said Mr. Humphries, "but if you will do
what I tell you, Miss Conway--now don't laugh, I will undertake to cure
you."
"Thank you, I will be sure to apply to you, when I have any occasion for
your skill," said Harriet, glancing at her aunt, who being too deaf to
follow the progress of conversation, trusted to the bright eyes of her
niece for intelligence of the moment at which it was desirable to make
the move. Mrs. Singleton rose, and the ladies flocked into the
drawing-room.
Harriet, not caring to remain the whole evening in her habit, went
upstairs to change her costume, while Margaret placed herself beside
Mrs. Singleton, and helped her in some of the work she had in hand. She
possessed the art of making herself heard by means of a very low and
clear intonation; and Mrs. Singleton enjoyed with her a pleasure she
had almost surrendered in general; the pleasure of maintaining an
unbroken conversation.
"I'll warrant, now," said Harriet, when she returned, "I'll warrant, my
good aunt is becoming fonder of that little staid piece of propriety
than of me. How say you, Aunt Singleton?"
"Why, niece Harriet," said the old lady, looking up quaintly from her
canvass, "if you do not take great care, and behave very well, there is
no saying what may happen."
"I defy you, aunt!" said Harriet, suddenly kissing her. "Come here, ma
mie," she added, drawing Margaret aside; "were you flirting with George
at dinner?"
"No, indeed, Harriet," returned Margaret, smiling; "ever since I have
known you, he has found it very convenient to be civil when you are
present; but I should be silly, indeed, if I could not read through
that."
"Ha, ha!" said Harriet. "You are a surprising little creature; for he
is not a person to despise. I mean in point of manner and appearance."
"I wish you made that opinion of yours a little more evident," said
Margaret, archly.
"Why, you bold little creature," returned Harriet; "advising me to tell
a gentleman I admire him. What do you say to that, Aunt Singleton."
"Oh, fie! Niece Harriet," said Mrs. Singleton, shaking her head.
"No, but you don't understand, Aunt Singleton: this is Margaret's plan,
not mine."
"Oh fie! Niece Harriet," repeated Mrs. Singleton.
"It is not my plan, is it, Margaret?" said Harriet, laughing. "By the
way, do I talk hoarsely?"
"I think you do, a little."
"Then my good uncle is right, and I am going to have a cold: my throat
is very uncomfortable. I will tell you what you must do to-night--take
my place at the piano with Mr. Humphries. You can sing ten times better
than I can."
"But I do so dislike singing in company. People are always bored by good
music."
"People, my love, are bored if you sing; but they are enraged if you
don't. Choose the least evil."
"Mr. Humphries, Miss Capel will take the first of that fine duet in
Norma, 'Qual cor tradisti:' you will then hear the purest mezzo soprano
in England."
Mr. Humphries gave a wide smile, and offered his hand to lead Margaret
to the piano. Harriet drew a low, easy chair, close to the instrument,
wrapped a scarf round her throat, and gave her attention to the singing.
"How greatly you have delighted us all," said Mr. Gage to Margaret, when
she left the piano; "you have never before allowed us to know that you
were a very beautiful singer."
"Won't you sing something now, Miss Conway?" asked Mr. Humphries.
"I cannot--I have a sore throat coming. You must sing for me," said
Harriet.
"Dear me, I am very sorry," said Mr. Humphries, "then I am afraid you
won't be able to hunt on Thursday."
"Not a chance of it," replied Harriet. "Evan, are those new books ever
coming down from London?"
"I am sorry I cannot inform you; but I am not a prophet even in the
small Highland way of second sight. Only that as all the ladies are
wishing to get the new novels first, one may presume that some among
them are doomed to be disappointed."
"I shall send you up to town for Coningsby," said Harriet.
"There is nothing at all unreasonable in that," replied her brother
calmly. "But, perhaps, it would be cheaper for me, and quite as rapid
for you, if you were to order it of the T---- bookseller."
"I have a great many books at home, Miss Conway, if you want anything to
read," said Mr. Humphries.
"I am much obliged; you are all kindness," returned Harriet very
gravely, "I dare say _you_ read a great deal."
"No, not so much as you would think," said Mr. Humphries, all
unconscious of irony; "what with hunting, and shooting, and angling--I
am very fond of angling--the whole year passes away. But my mother is
always reading."
"Said mother," said Harriet, pulling Margaret close to her, and wheeling
her chair a little out of the circle, "said mother has a dower-house to
which to retire whenever the seal marries; so don't let the vision of a
cross old woman always reading 'Nelson's Fasts and Festivals' deter you;
if you have a mind."
"Oh, Harriet! you should not make me laugh before all the people."
"No, you stand it vastly well; you look very demure I assure you. His
name is _William_."
These last words pronounced in a very pathetic tone of voice, rather
tended to discompose the tranquillity upon which she had complimented
her friend; but Margaret took the chair at a sufficient distance to
protect her from Harriet's provoking asides. George Gage and Mr.
Humphries came and talked to her; the other young ladies occupied the
piano in turn, and so the evening passed.