A PLEASANT DINNER-PARTY.
Lady Horatia most kindly superintended my toilette for the dinner-party
that day, and made me wear one of my own simple muslin dresses, which
had been a little altered by Madame Rosalie; and she placed a spray of
white stephanotis in my hair, which she gathered from their own
conservatory.
The little Marquis of Lorrington was the first to arrive; and then a
fat, large man, who, I heard, was the greatest wit of the day. After
that, a short, interesting-looking pale one (who was said to be a
celebrated poet), and a little old lady, who seemed very short-sighted,
but had a most pleasing expression and tone of voice. She was reckoned
the most agreeable woman in London.
Lord Lorrington had sat down by me when he came, and began to talk very
quickly, and to tell me about the others as they came in; but I was glad
when the pale poet came and seated himself on the other side of me, with
an arch look, as if he intended to monopolize my attention.
“I always choose to sit by the youngest and prettiest of the party,” he
said. And then he talked very agreeably, in a slow and pleasant, though
somewhat nasal voice. Although he spoke chiefly to me, he did not
exclude Lord Lorrington--on the contrary, it seemed to me as if he
wished to draw out whatever of good or agreeable there might be found in
the young Marquis, who evidently had sufficient humility to look up to
the old poet with much respect, although he did not seem to like the
interruption to our _tête-à-tête_ at first.
Another lady and gentleman arrived after we had talked for some little
time; and it was now so late that I began to fear that Sir Alfred would
not come. Could Lady Horatia have put him off? I was confirmed in this
apprehension by seeing her ring the bell and order dinner; and my
disappointment must have been shown in my face, for the old poet
whispered in my ear,
“Ah! you were expecting somebody else, who has not come.”
At that moment dinner was announced, and Lady Horatia, after sending the
other guests down, took Lord Lorrington’s arm, and the poet offered his
to me.
“I am lucky,” he said, “but I would not have given you up even if the
right person had arrived. But, my dear child, take an old man’s advice,
and unless _he_, the right one, is very, very good, don’t throw away
your chance of that young Marquis; there is more good in him than you
think of. I wish he may find a nice, pretty wife soon; and I think--I
think, if you could love him as he deserves--I’m not sure, though. You
have a fine nature, but something has gone wrong with you. Is it the
loss of your property? That was certainly a great trial. Ah! we are to
go to the top. Lady Horatia wants you to sit near the Marquis, I see.”
So I found myself between them again, and just after we sat down I saw
Sir Alfred come into the room. He went up to Lady Horatia and apologised
for being so late, then shook hands with me, or rather pressed my hand
with a soft, lingering touch which made me blush with delight, and went
to take the only vacant place at the farther end of the table. I believe
that neither of my neighbours had seen me blush, but I saw that Lady
Horatia’s quick eyes perceived it; so I began to talk very volubly to
Lord Lorrington, for I was much afraid of the poet’s quickness of
perception; but a little time afterwards, the poet said to me--
“Yes, he is very handsome, and has some genius; but, my dear young lady,
pray don’t fall in love with him.”
“With whom?” I inquired, as innocently as I could, as I felt that my
cheek was getting most provokingly red.
“You know whom I mean, I see; but I hope he’s not the one you expected,
because you must not think of him.”
How very strange this second warning seemed! What could he know?
“Why?--is it because he plays?” I asked.
“There are many reasons,” he said, with a solemn voice. “Take my advice,
don’t dream of him--don’t be foolish--it would never do.” I was afraid
Lady Horatia would hear us, so I began to talk of other things; and as I
soon saw that Sir Alfred was looking at me with that wonderfully
fascinating expression, I enjoyed the party very much.
The celebrated wit sat on Lady Horatia’s left side, and so we came in
for a good many of his jokes; and there was something in the manner of
telling them, and his broad, genial face, that made everything he said
most amusing.
Many of his sayings were repeated all along the table, and reached Sir
Alfred, who responded with some witty or clever remark, which showed him
to me in a different and still more attractive point of view than
before.
“No wonder that everybody raves about him, and his voice too,” thought
I, with a thrill of delight at the idea of singing with him. My face
must have expressed my thoughts much more than was expedient, for the
pale poet said at that moment,
“You will enjoy singing with him to-night. I am afraid even more than I
shall to hear you both, and that will be very much, for to hear good
music is one of the greatest pleasures of my life.”