But nature never framed a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice;
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprising what they look on; and her wit
Values itself so highly, that to her
All matter else seems weak.
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.
"Well, ma mie, and what is it?" asked Harriet, as Margaret came hastily
into her room while she was dressing for the ball. "Anything gone wrong
with the blush roses."
"I am come about some blush roses," said Margaret, holding out a
beautiful bouquet. "I do not know how it is, Harriet, but I found these
on my toilet when I went up to dress."
"And who do you think gave me these carnations," asked Harriet,
pointing to a splendid cluster of those flowers placed in a glass vase.
"The fairies have matched our trimmings, that is all, Margaret. Blush
roses for you--carnations for me."
"No, but is it your doing, Harriet?" asked Margaret earnestly.
"Faith, no;" said Harriet laughing, "who do you suspect; Mr. Humphries
has not the wit, though you have so barbarously--"
"Harriet! do not accuse me."
"I do not know who would think me worth a bouquet," said Harriet, going
composedly on with her toilet; "perhaps young Vesey, or Sir Hawarth Fane.
I should not wonder if it were Sir Hawarth. I hope not, though."
"But it is so very disagreeable," said Margaret, "to be obliged to any
one for a bouquet. I had much rather not wear it."
"Nonsense, child, it is quite proper--flowers, you know; if it were
jewels it would be quite another thing. I dare say, after all, it comes
from George Gage; eh! Charlotte?"
"La, Miss Conway! how you do startle one."
"Yes, he bribed you to place these two nosegays on our tables."
"Well, Miss Conway, it is no use denying anything to you."
"There, Margaret, now your mind is at rest, go back and dress. What
splendid hair you have, child."
Mr. Singleton was loud in his commendations of the two young ladies. He
was to accompany them. Mr. Gage and Mr. Humphries went together. It
appeared to Margaret that Mr. Singleton was asleep in his corner of the
carriage, and she could not forbear whispering to Harriet. "Do be civil
to Mr. Gage, to-night."
"Why, so I am always, am I not?" said Harriet, "civil as an orange."
"Oh! not to-day at dinner."
"I am sure I said nothing," said Harriet.
"No, it was your manner."
"Well, he was rude too," returned Harriet, "why did he not ask me to
dance?"
"Because," said Margaret, "he took it for granted you would refuse him."
"He had no business to take it for granted," was Harriet's perverse
reply; "if he does ask me now, I shall certainly decline."
It was an excellent ball; the room was very prettily got up, and all the
families of any consideration, far and near, were present. Mr. Singleton
and the two ladies became at once an object of great attention. They
were remarkably well dressed, and their style of beauty, so opposite and
so distinguished, that every one was employed in passing an opinion upon
them. Several people came up to Mr. Singleton, and asked eagerly who was
the beautiful girl with the crown of blush roses. Mr. Singleton informed
them that she was a Miss Capel--very good family--charming
girl--excellent fortune--great friend of Harriet's. Almost all the
ladies present disliked Harriet, and were delighted at the opportunity
to set up a rival beauty. Had Margaret been poor, this would have been
difficult; the men would have called her a pretty girl, and passed on to
dance with somebody else; but as it was, Margaret was pronounced the
belle of the ball-room, and besieged with requests for her hand from all
quarters. She was engaged for the first quadrille, and was quite puzzled
to remember and distinguish the numerous applicants for the succeeding
dances. Mr. Gage entreated her to remember that her promise to dance
with him was of very long standing, and having renewed it for the next
waltz, he turned to Harriet, and begged for the honour of her hand. She
was talking with her uncle, and just looked round with the words
"Engaged, Mr. Gage." He bowed, and stepped back, and one of her numerous
acquaintances coming up at the moment, she walked off with him to the
dancers.
Margaret danced very quietly and well; Harriet's dancing was superb. She
was light as air, and the precision of her steps, and the foreign
expression and grace of her movements, excited universal attention.
When waltzing began, and she floated round the room on the arm of a
young Spaniard who had just been introduced to her, and who had been
staying at Sir Evan Conway's, there was quite a crowd collected to watch
her and her partner. Directly Harriet became aware of this, she stopped,
retired within the circle with her companion, and there stood talking
with him in Spanish until the dance was over. This was not from any
feeling of bashfulness, but because she did not choose to exhibit for
the amusement of the company.
"In England," as she said haughtily to her partner, "if one dances a
little better than a bear, one is actually mobbed in a ball-room!"
As soon as the waltz was over, the young Count led Harriet to her seat,
and stood politely by her side, holding her flowers, and talking of the
carnations of Andalusia. Harriet selected one of the finest, pulled it
out of her bouquet, and gave it him. The Count very respectfully kissed
her hand (a common courtesy in Spain), and placed the flower in his
coat.
It may be supposed how excited all the ladies were. They _never had_
seen in all their lives, such very indecorous behaviour in a public
room. They really thought she ought to be desired to withdraw; and their
anger was all the more pointed, as the Conde de F. was very
distinguished in his appearance--was interesting from having taken an
active part in some of the late Spanish squabbles, and was such a
waltzer as no Englishman need ever hope to be.
George Gage, who was standing beside Margaret, after looking arrogantly
into every corner of the room, said that he had formerly thought the
T---- ball very respectable, but that really to-night there was hardly a
soul that one knew; and such a very--singular--set of beings, that he
wondered how the two or three ladies who were present could find a
change of partners. That, perhaps, as they knew nobody, Miss Capel would
not object to honour him by taking another turn with him, when the next
quadrille was over;--there was this advantage in waltzing, that you were
not mixed up during the dance with Heaven knows who; and obliged,
perhaps, to give your hand to a hair-dresser in passing. Margaret looked
very arch during this speech, but she offered no opposition to Mr.
Gage's remarks. She was, still, half afraid of him. She could not help
seeing that he interrupted himself half-a-dozen times during his speech
to bow to different people who had the honour of his acquaintance; and
the thought crossed her mind, that a hair-dresser was not very likely
to gain admittance to a county ball.
Every moment some one or other was coming up to Harriet to solicit her
hand. Some she refused, some she evaded, some she put on her list. She
was engaged in a sparkling conversation with the Spanish nobleman, which
grew every moment more and more animated.
The Conde had come to the ball solely for the chance of meeting the
Senorita, and she seemed determined to make it as agreeable to him as
possible.
Mr. Singleton brought Margaret a partner, who had been very eager for an
introduction. He was next to Harriet in the Mazourka, which was still
rare enough to excite a good deal of attention. Every one not engaged in
the figure stood round to watch the dancers. Mr. Gage, with Margaret's
bouquet in his hand, leaned against a pillar, following with his eyes
the graceful movements of Harriet and the Conde. A party, who had just
entered the room, made their way into the front of the circle, and as
Margaret was standing while Harriet and her partner were in the centre,
the Conde on his knee, and Harriet passing round him, she heard a loud
assured voice exclaim, "Heavens, Collins! what a handsome man."
She turned her head, and beheld a large middle-aged woman, with red
hair, and a very plain face, extravagantly dressed, and leaning on the
arm of a very young man, apparently under twenty. She was in a lace
dress of great value, with a gold cord and tassels round her waist, and
her arms loaded with bracelets, while the front of her dress was
decorated with beetles, locusts, scorpions, and other reptiles in
jewellery, after a fashion that was then making a great noise in Paris.
The young man held a gold pomander-box and a flaçon, with the lady's
bouquet and handkerchief: an elderly man stood a little behind with an
Indian shawl over his arm.
"They are foreigners," said Mr. Collins, directing his glass towards
Harriet and the Conde.
"Is he not handsome?" asked the lady.
"I think the girl the best looking," returned the young man.
"No--do you? Fan me, Collins, there's a good soul."
Mr. Collins unfurled her fan, fringed with swansdown, and proceeded to
fan the "large lady."
"Is there any one here one knows?" said the lady, turning her head a
little towards the elderly man.
"No, my dear, I think not," he replied.
"Ah, dear Paris!" said the lady, with a powerful sigh.
"Ah!" returned Mr. Collins.
"Could not we sit down somewhere?" asked the lady.
Way was made for her through the circle, and she sank on a bench. Mr.
Collins stood fanning her.
"Do go and look for some ice, Collins, I am perishing with heat," said
the lady.
"I'll try," replied the obedient Mr. Collins.
"That's a pretty modest girl--there--with the blush roses," said the
lady, addressing her husband.
"Yes, my love," returned the good gentleman.
"What time did you order the carriage?"
"At two, dearest."
"What ice is this, Collins? Pine? Oh! it's pretty good; as well as one
can expect in this remote corner of the earth. There, I feel better
now."
Mr. Collins obsequiously held her ice-plate. "Will you dance to-night?"
he asked, leaning over her.
"Why--I think I will take a few turns when the waltzing begins," she
replied.
The Mazourka finished, Margaret went to claim her bouquet of Mr. Gage;
but to her dismay, she found him leaning against the pillar in profound
thought, and the floor quite strewn with the delicate leaves of her
blush roses. He started on seeing her; seemed rather confused, a most
unusual thing for him, and began to attempt some apology for his
depredations.
He could only hope that Miss Capel would not again leave him to the
mercy of his own reflections, now that she saw how badly he employed his
leisure. He scarcely knew how to palliate his offence, for he was aware
of the importance of a lady's bouquet.
Margaret, smiling archly, received the remains of her bouquet with a
very good grace, and said that she suspected Mr. Gage had a better right
to dispose of the flowers than she had.
He replied by a gracious bow and smile, and begged her with much
humility to allow him to conduct her to the refreshment room.
There they found Harriet and the Spanish Count, standing eating ice and
wafers. Harriet laughing and talking, the Conde keeping his eyes fixed
upon her with that watchful admiration, that is very nearly allied to a
more tender feeling.
Harriet turned quickly round to Margaret, leaned close to her ear, and
exclaimed:
"My dear Margaret, such a discovery! Did you notice a large woman,
superbly dressed, who came in during the Mazourka?"
"Yes," replied Margaret.
"Mrs. Maxwell Dorset, my dear!" said Harriet enforcing her words with a
tap of her fan.
Margaret's face expressed, in a slight degree, her unspeakable surprise
at this piece of news.
"A fact, my dear," resumed Harriet. "I am going to ask George to
introduce me to her."
Margaret caught her friend by the arm as she was pressing forward.
"Harriet! you cannot be in earnest," she exclaimed, "you must be
jesting--such a character. I am sure no friend of yours would present
you."
"What a very innocent little soul!" said Harriet, drawing back, with a
touch of scorn in her voice. "The lady's character is as fair as yours
or mine. You may impeach her taste, Margaret, but not her virtue, for
there stands her guarantee--her husband, good easy man! She merely takes
presents of value from her admirers, instead of bouquets, like you and
I. 'Men's eyes were made to gaze,' _ma mie_, and a beautiful woman may
be admired, I hope, without being sent to Coventry for the offence."
"But after all that has past, Harriet," said Margaret, imploringly,
"indeed, it would be very wrong to ask Mr. Gage."
"My dear, let 'bygones be bygones,'" said Harriet with an air of
decision. "I wish Mr. Gage you would introduce me to that lady
opposite--Mrs. Maxwell Dorset. I have a great inclination to become
acquainted with her." Harriet spoke with unusual suavity of manner.
Mr. Gage raised his eyebrows and looked at her for a moment with
astonishment, and then without losing his self-possession, as she had
hoped, he replied that he very much regretted it was entirely out of his
power to comply with Miss Conway's request.
Harriet's eyes flashed fire; she turned away and went back to the
ball-room, where she directly engaged Margaret to dance with the Conde
de F---- who was still in attendance upon her, and then after looking
round on every side for some means of annoyance, she said calmly as if
to herself, "I shall dance with Sir Hawarth Fane when he comes to ask
me."
Mr. Gage, who well knew that this speech was pointed at him, remarked
coldly, that he believed he had heard Sir Evan express a very decided
opinion upon that subject.
Harriet looking every moment more resolute, repeated, "I shall dance
with Sir Hawarth Fane."
Now the fact was, that Sir Hawarth Fane was one of the worst characters
in the county, but he was a single man of large property, and therefore
very well received in most families. He had given some decided proofs of
admiration for Harriet; but Sir Evan had always required her to receive
them as coldly as possible. Even Mr. Singleton had often begged her "for
God's sake never to dance with that fellow Hawarth Fane."
Harriet received his homage as her due, had it been ten times more
marked; treated him with the easy neglect she generally assumed towards
her admirers, and never danced with him, for the single reason that he
was forty years old, and had a red face.
Margaret could only hope that he would not make his appearance, but soon
a stout figure was seen to emerge from the doorway, and with his glass
in his eye, to look eagerly about for some one. Mr. Gage looked as
resolute as Harriet, and both turned their eyes in the direction of the
advancing Baronet. Margaret was breathless. Harriet drew her
handkerchief through the jewelled ring hanging to her bouquetière, and
settled herself as if she meant to prepare for the next dance. It was
quite clear, both to Mr. Gage and Margaret, that she had made up her
mind. Mr. Gage looked like Creon, and Harriet like Antigone--neither
spoke. Sir Hawarth who had been blundering about the room with his
eye-glass, very much like a person who had sat a good deal too long
after dinner, now caught sight of Harriet, and steered his course in her
direction. Mr. Gage leaned over Margaret, and whispered to her:
"Miss Capel, the man is a thorough blackguard; he shall not dance with
Harriet. If you cannot prevent it--I _will_."
Margaret looked up at him with such a glance of quick intelligence, as
he could not have believed her to possess.
"Harriet!" she said, as Sir Hawarth neared them, "if you dance with
that man, I will leave Singleton Manor to-morrow morning."
"You!" said Harriet, turning quickly upon her.
"I will," returned Margaret.
"I dare say," said Harriet laughing scornfully, "but I won't let you. I
will lock you up in the store-room among the apricots."
"I am in earnest," said Margaret, "take your choice."
"The pleasure of dancing the next quadrille with you, Miss Conway," said
Sir Hawarth Fane, evidently rather intoxicated.
"Engaged, Sir Hawarth," replied Harriet in some confusion, her colour
rose, her breath grew short, she was evidently in much agitation.
"Engaged! I am deucedly sorry for that," said Sir Hawarth in a thick
voice, "I'll wait till after this quadrille, and perhaps I may prevail
on you to galop with me afterwards."
He certainly looked in a charming condition for a galop. Harriet replied
that she was really sorry, but that they were to leave the ball-room
after the next dance.
Sir Hawarth muttered something about his being in confounded ill-luck;
and that there was not another woman in the room worth dancing with.
"And pray," he whispered, "could not you be off your engagement? Is it
any very particular person? Who is it, if I may be so bold?"
The dancers were collecting; Harriet, not knowing how to answer, and
aware that he was not quite composed in his mind, glanced uneasily round
the room. Mr. Gage coming forward in the most natural manner, said
easily:
"Now, Miss Conway, if you will do me the honour--"
Harriet took his arm, and joined the dancers.
"Oh!" said Sir Hawarth, satisfied that her plea of an engagement was
genuine.
Harriet's anger was magnificent. She felt that for once she had lost her
self-command, when she excused herself on the plea of being _engaged_;
she, who never hesitated to refuse a partner upon the most trivial
reason, and frequently upon no reason at all; and whose right to do so
was tolerably well established. She to commit herself! To put herself in
the power of Mr. Gage--to be obliged to dance with him to cover a
blunder of her own. It was insupportable.
Mr. Gage moved through the figure as carelessly as possible. Harriet
never danced a step, hardly vouchsafed her fingers' ends, when it was
requisite to give her hand, and never directed to him a single glance
from those stormy, dark eyes, that seemed to burn beneath her haughty
brows. She never uttered a word even to those about her, but employed
herself in opening and shutting her emblazoned fan with the jerk
peculiar to Spanish women, which movement completely diverted the eyes
of the Conde from his partner to herself. It brought his country more
completely home to him than even the pure Castilian in which she had
been so ably conversing.
As soon as the quadrille was over, and before the dancers had time to
disperse, Harriet turned from her partner without the slightest gesture
of acknowledgment, and making a sign to Margaret, walked into the
cloak-room, followed by seven or eight gentlemen, more or less in
despair at her early departure. She suffered the Conde to put on her
shawl, and hand her into the carriage, and parted from him with a smile,
and a verse from Calderon. Mr. Humphries and Mr. Gage both attended
Margaret, and then got into their own conveyance.
There was a profound silence for a short time. Mr. Singleton felt that
something was wrong, and was really so much under the dominion of his
niece, that he hardly ventured to make a remark. At last he made bold
to say that it was a very good ball.
"Very," replied Margaret.
Harriet said nothing.
Mr. Singleton then complimented Margaret upon the number of hearts she
had won, and said he expected to be besieged the next day by her
different suitors.
Margaret said that Mr. Singleton was very flattering, and thought no
more of the effect she was said to have produced.
"Well, Harriet," said Mr. Singleton after he had cleared his throat two
or three times, "you were rather in a hurry to come away this evening."
"Yes, Sir," returned Harriet, in a short decided tone.
"How was that, eh?" asked her uncle.
"I was bored," returned Harriet as shortly as before.
This was conclusive, and an ominous silence prevailed. Margaret feared
that Harriet was mortally offended with her, and began to think that her
threat of leaving Singleton Manor the next day might come to be put in
practice. She felt constrained--distressed. There was not light enough
to see Harriet's face, and she hardly knew how to end her suspense. At
last she timidly put her hand into that of her wilful friend. Harriet
snatched hold of it, and pressed it suddenly to her lips. Margaret was
almost affected to tears by this little incident. She hoped that the
storm had blown over, but she was satisfied that, at least, Harriet's
displeasure did not extend to her.
As soon as the carriage door was opened, Harriet sprang out without
waiting for the steps to be let down, and dashed through the hall into
the drawing-room. Mr. Singleton saying something about "a storm
brewing," handed Margaret out and followed his niece.
She took up her night-candle, nodded to her uncle and beckoned Margaret
to follow her. As soon as she reached her dressing-room, she began in
silence to take off her ornaments from her dress and hair. Then she
held out her hand at a little distance, and watched it for a few moments
with great attention. It trembled.
"Margaret, ma mie," said she, raising her head. "I am going to be ill;
will you mind sleeping with me for once?"
Margaret willingly gave her consent. Harriet stooped over her desk, and
hastily wrote a few lines on a scrap of paper.
"If I am hors-de-combat to-morrow, Margaret," she said, "give this to
Mr. Gage."
A stamp of her slender foot, as she pronounced his name, was the only
indication of feeling that she betrayed.
Margaret really did not know if it was a cartel of defiance, but she
thought it better to promise compliance.
"Then kiss me, ma mie, and go to sleep," said Harriet, "we will talk
over our adventures to-morrow."