They entered the ball-room; it looked very cold and very dull; the
candles as yet hardly lighted, and the fires yielding far more smoke
than heat. Over one of these several officers were lounging; Mrs.
Edwards directed her steps to the other, and seated herself on the
warmest side; her two companions found chairs near her, Mr. Edwards
having left them at the door of the ball-room, to seek out his old
associates at the whist-tables. But it was all so new to Emma, that
she did not feel any of the annoyance at their early appearance with
which a more experienced young lady would have been afflicted.
Everything interested her happy mind, and she even felt amused in
ascertaining the number of lights, and listening to the scraping of
the fiddles tuning in the orchestra. They had not been seated many
minutes, when they were joined by a young officer, whom Emma
immediately guessed to be Captain Hunter, and from the pleasure which
the quiet Mary demonstrated at his addresses, she augured unfavourably
for her brother's prospects.
She could not, however, accuse Mrs. Edwards of looking more kindly on
the gay soldier than she seemed to do on the doctor's assistant: and
had it been Sam himself, he could hardly have received a more frigid
recognition than the formal and ungracious bow, which Emma witnessed.
Captain Hunter showed no symptom of discouragement, but continued a
low but eloquent conversation with Mary, the only part of which
intelligible to her companions was an engagement for the first two
dances; for these were the days of country dances, before quadrilles,
waltzes, and polkas had changed the face of the ball-room. There must
certainly be some connexion between the style of dress and the style
of dancing prevalent in any particular generation. The stiff ruffs,
the awful long waists and formal boddices of Elizabeth's reign were
quite in keeping with a stately pavan; the loose attire and complete
undress adopted by the courtly beauties of Charles the Second may be
considered characteristic of the elegant but licentious style
pervading their dances. The minuet matched well with the buckram, and
rich brocade, and high head-dress which marked the era of the earlier
Georges; whilst powder and hoops of course disappeared under the
influence of the merry country-dance and cotillion. Perhaps at the
present time the dresses, like the dances, partake more of the
character of the latter Stuarts—graceful and bewitching; the
habiliments full and flowing, the steps vivacious but tending to
giddiness, with a near approximation to romping, and a great risk of
inducing a _faux-pas_, or even a serious fall.
But all this is a digression from my story, and cannot possibly have
passed through my heroine's mind, since, sixty years ago, the
liveliest fancy would have never pictured an English ball such as we
now see it. The accessions to the company at first few and at great
intervals, so as to allow Emma time to notice the dress, manners, and
appearance of each individual, gradually became so much more numerous,
as to prevent her seeing or observing more than half of them. Dancing,
however, was delayed because the Osborne Castle party were expected,
and the stewards, of course, were waiting for Miss Osborne to open the
ball. At length, a bustle in the assembly-room called Emma's attention
to the door, from a very remarkable dress which she had been for some
minutes contemplating, and the important group made their appearance.
Mary pointed them out to her young companion: there was Lady Osborne,
with her splendid diamond necklace; her son and daughter, and her
daughter's friend, Miss Carr; her son's late tutor, Mr. Howard, his
sister, and her little boy, a child apparently about six years old.
The last mentioned lady, a widow with pleasing manners and a very
agreeable countenance, happened to seat herself near Emma, whose
attention was speedily called to the little boy, by the extreme
impatience he evinced for the dance to begin. His mother, turning to a
friend beside her, observed,
"You will not wonder that Charles is so eager for his first dance,
when you hear how he is to be honoured; Miss Osborne has promised to
dance with him herself, which is very good-natured."
"Oh yes," cried Charles, "she has promised to be my partner ever since
Saturday, indeed as long as I knew I was coming to the ball."
Just at this moment, Miss Osborne stepped hastily forward, and
addressing the little boy in a hurried manner, said:
"Charles, I am very sorry, but I find I cannot keep my engagement with
you this time; I must dance with Colonel Miller, but another time, the
next dance, perhaps, will do just as well for us I dare say."
She then hastened away, without waiting to witness the effect of her
communication on the little fellow, whose hopes and enjoyment seemed
to vanish together. Disappointment was painted on every feature, and
his swelling heart appeared about to prompt a shower of tears, with
which a proud desire to appear manly was maintaining an ineffectual
struggle. His mother, who seemed little less distressed, endeavoured
to soothe his grief, and held out vague hopes of better luck another
time; when Emma, who really pitied him, and was quite interested by
the appearance of both, said with the most obliging air:
"If you will accept me as a substitute for Miss Osborne, sir, I shall
be most happy to dance with you the two next dances."
It would be difficult to tell, of the mother or son, which countenance
looked the brightest, or whose eyes showed the greatest pleasure at
this kind offer: and the couple took their place in the dance with
equal satisfaction, Emma being perfectly contented with her juvenile
partner, whilst he was all anxiety to acquit himself well to do her
honor, and especially intent on running his fingers as far as possible
into the points of the new gloves which he had received from his
mother on quitting her side, with sundry injunctions to keep them on.
Emma had been much amused when the Osborne party entered, to see Tom
Musgrove accompanying them; having, no doubt, from the knowledge she
had previously acquired, of his having been long in the house, that he
had been waiting outside the door, in order to join them, and appear
as if he formed one of their party. She now discerned him standing
opposite to herself by the side of Lord Osborne; who, she learnt from
casual remarks amongst ladies near her, never danced himself, and was
now preventing or dissuading Tom Musgrove from doing so either. Lord
Osborne was a remarkably plain young man, barely endowed with the air
of a gentleman, and it seemed to observers, as if the time spent in
the ball-room were one of actual penance to him. His principal
occupation appeared to consist in regarding Emma with a broad,
unmitigated stare, which rather disconcerted her, and made her exert
herself to converse with Charles, that she might not seem to mind it.
It was not easy for her to decide what drew his attention so fixedly
on herself; she thought, perhaps, that he wondered at her presumption
in standing up with one of his party; or that he was criticising her
style of dress; or censuring her dancing; she wished with all her
heart that he could find some other subject for his speculation, and
was quite relieved at the gradual change of place which dancing
produced. Charles was very happy, and spoke his feelings in rather an
audible whisper, when addressing Mr. Howard, as that gentleman was
passing near him, he said:
"Oh, do look, Uncle Howard, at my pretty partner, I do really think
she is the prettiest girl in the room," an opinion which Mr. Howard
himself did not seem inclined to controvert, though his answer was
more cautiously and softly given.
"Upon my word, Charles," said Miss Osborne, as she gave him hands
across; "you are in high luck; I am sure you have gained by the
exchange," an assertion to which, had Charles been a few years older,
he would have replied with less sincerity than his hurried "Yes," now
announced.
He told Emma he was very glad _now_, that Miss Osborne had broken her
promise, but could not help anxiously enquiring whether she thought
she would keep her engagement for the next dance.
Emma answered in the affirmative, though she could have given no
better reason for expecting Miss Osborne to perform her promise next
time, than that she had broken it the last. When the dance was
concluded, and Emma returned to her seat, Mrs. Wells, Charles' mother,
expressed in warm terms, her obligation to Miss Watson for so kindly
dancing with her little boy; Emma assured her, with great sincerity,
that she was very happy to have given him pleasure, and that she had
greatly enjoyed her dance.
They soon entered into an agreeable conversation—and she was
exceedingly pleased, when, a short time afterwards, they were joined
by Mr. Howard, who begged his sister to introduce him, and solicited
her hand for the ensuing dance. Mr. Howard's appearance and manner
were such, as could not fail to prepossess any one in his favor, and
Emma had formed a favorable opinion of him already, from the
affectionate terms in which little Charles had spoken of his uncle,
when he informed her that he and his mother resided constantly with
him. The good nature which had actuated her brought its own reward;
and she thought, with much pleasure, of the ensuing dances. Previous
to their commencement, there was a proposal made by Mrs. Wells, that
they should go in search of tea. They set off accordingly—Charles very
proudly escorting his partner—Mr. Howard and his sister being close
behind; when, in attempting to enter the tea-room, they were met by so
many returning to the dancing, that they were forced to draw aside;
and, almost pushed behind a half-opened door. Whilst waiting here for
a passage, Emma heard Lord Osborne address Mr. Tom Musgrove, as they
were standing together before the very door which concealed her.
"I say, Musgrove, why don't you go and dance with that beautiful Emma
Watson that I may come and look at her?"
"I was just going to ask her, my lord:" cried Tom, "the very thought
that I had in my head this moment."
"Ay, do so, then," continued Lord Osborne, "and I will stand behind
you; by Jove, she's so handsome that, if ever I did dance with any
girl, it should be with her!"
It was with no little self-congratulation, that Emma reflected on her
engagement to Mr. Howard, which would save her, as she hoped, from the
unwelcome suit of Mr. Musgrove and the stare of Lord Osborne. There
was a sort of suppressed look of mirth and amusement on the
countenance of Mr. Howard, which convinced her that _he_, too, had
heard this short dialogue, and Charles evinced his perception of it by
whispering:
"They did not know we could hear them—and I would not have told them
for the world—would you?" A sentiment in which Emma silently, but
entirely joined.
It was not till they left the room—and she had joined Mrs.
Edwards—that they again encountered Mr. Musgrove. He immediately
requested an introduction, and Mrs. Edwards was obliged to comply;
but, it was in her coldest and most ungracious manner. It evidently
made not the slightest difference to the gentleman, however, who
heeded not the means to gain a wished-for end, and had long been aware
that he was no favorite with the Edwards' family generally. He
immediately flattered himself he should be permitted the great honor
of dancing with Miss Emma Watson the two next dances. She had peculiar
satisfaction in replying that she was engaged.
"Oh! but, indeed," he eagerly replied, "we must not let my little
friend, Charles, engross you entirely, Miss Emma?"
To which, with a demure face, and an internal sensation of delight,
she answered that she was not engaged to dance with Master Wells.
Tom was baffled and mortified, and he shewed it in his face. He
lingered, however, near her, until her partner appeared to claim her
hand; when, with a look of surprise, he went to inform Lord Osborne of
his ill-success.
The young nobleman bore it with great philosophy.
"Oh, with Howard is it!" was his observation; "well, that will do just
as well for me."
And accordingly he stationed himself exactly behind that gentleman,
and again indulged in the stare which Emma had previously found so
annoying. She wished with all her heart that he could find a less
disagreeable way of expressing his admiration, as even the idea that
he thought her so handsome could not reconcile her to his method of
demonstrating it. However, she found Mr. Howard quite us agreeable as
his countenance had led her to expect, and upon the whole she enjoyed
herself exceedingly. When the dance had concluded, whilst she was
still engaged in a pleasant conversation with her partner, they were
suddenly interrupted by discovering that the Osborne Castle party were
preparing to leave. She heard Lord Osborne telling Tom Musgrove that
the thing had become very dull to the ladies, and his mother was
determined to go home: though for his own part, he thought it was the
best ball he had been at for a long time. Mrs. Wells and her brother
of course accompanied the others, and Emma wished them good night, and
saw them depart with regret, in which they appeared to participate.
Lord Osborne entered, after quitting the room for a minute or two, as
if reluctant to tear himself away, and disturbing her from the corner
where she was resting, muttered an inaudible excuse of having left his
gloves in the window-seat behind her; though the said gloves being
carefully coiled up in his hand all the time, it was certain that he
must have had some other object in view, which probably was to enjoy
one more stare at her.
Tom Musgrove disappeared at the same time from the ball-room, as he
would not be guilty of the vulgarity of outstaying the grandest part
of the company; whether he spent the rest of the evening in helping
Mrs. Newland make negus at the bar, or consoled himself by ordering a
barrel of oysters and whisky-punch in his own room, Emma never
ascertained, but her partner, who laughed excessively at his airs of
elegance, assured her he had no doubt it was great mortification and
self-denial on his part to appear indifferent, and she was too little
pleased with him to avoid feeling a secret satisfaction at this
conviction.
The rest of the assembly lost nothing in spirit by their departure,
and seemed determined to enjoy themselves, though Miss Osborne had
pronounced the evening dull, and her friend Miss Carr was heard to
declare, after surveying every one through her glass, that it all
seemed very vulgar.
Emma's next partner was an officer, but she had several other
solicitations which she was forced to refuse, as a very pretty girl,
quite new, and evidently admired by Lord Osborne, was not likely to be
neglected in a country assembly-room, and for the rest of the evening
it was quite the fashion to call her "_the pretty_ Miss Watson."
As it was a regulation in the ball-room that no other dance should be
called after one o'clock, this finished her amusement; and at the
summons of Mr. Edwards she was not at all dissatisfied to return home,
although she professed to have spent a most delightful evening. She
felt rather anxious to ascertain whether Mr. Edwards had lost or won
at cards, and on entering the dining-room, where the supper-table was
spread, she looked anxiously at his countenance, to read his features,
and discover his state of mind. The pleasant conviction that fortune
had favoured him was conveyed to her mind, when, on the subsidence of
the frown which the sudden glare of candle-light occasioned, he
presented a bland smile and self-satisfied aspect, pronounced the soup
which, as Elizabeth had predicted, appeared to comfort them, to be
extremely good, and joked with Emma about the hearts which he guessed
she had conquered on this her first appearance in their country.
"Well, Mary," added he, turning to his daughter, and chucking her
under the chin, "and who did you dance with? Who was your first
partner?"
"Captain Hunter, sir," replied Mary, demurely, yet blushing a little.
"And who next?" pursued he.
"Mr. Edward Hunter, sir."
"And who is he?"
"Captain Hunter's cousin."
"Oh, aye—very well: who next?"
"Captain Scott, sir."
"Who is he—another cousin of Captain Hunter, eh?"
"No, sir; only a friend of his."
"I thought so," said her father, chuckling.
"Mary was surrounded with red-coats the whole evening," observed Mrs.
Edwards. "I must say I should have been as well pleased to have seen
her dancing with some of our old friends and neighbours, and less
taken up with those soldiers."
It was lucky for Mary that her father had been winning at cards, as he
would otherwise, very probably, have been as much offended as her
mother seemed to be on hearing of her conduct. He now, however,
good-humouredly took her part—only saying—
"Pooh, pooh, my dear, the girl naturally likes officers, all girls
do—besides, if those young men are quicker at asking her than others,
how could she help dancing with them."
Mrs. Edwards looked very little pleased at an observation which was
too true to be contradicted, and observed, in a general way, that she
had always remarked girls could contrive to oblige their parents when
they had a mind to do so.
"I hope you had your share of officers, Miss Emma," said the old
gentleman.
"Thank you, sir, I had quite sufficient," said Emma, quietly.
"Oh, Miss Emma was almost above the officers, she got into the Osborne
Castle set, and her partner was no less than Mr. Howard. Did Lord
Osborne ask you?"
"No, ma'am," replied Emma.
"I am sure he looked at you enough," continued Mrs. Edwards; "I
thought he was going to eat you."
"I was not afraid of that," said Emma, smiling; "but I own I was
rather annoyed."
"I think Mr. Musgrove was more insufferable than ever," pursued Mrs.
Edwards; "I am glad you did not dance with him, Miss Emma; really that
young man is beyond bearing in his impertinence."
"Oh, you should not abuse him to Miss Emma; I dare say her sisters
give a very different account of him; he is a great favorite with all
of them, I know," said Mr. Edwards.
"I never heard anything of him which particularly prepossessed me in
his favour," replied Emma, very coolly. "Elizabeth mentioned him, and,
from what I have seen, I should think her description was very like
the truth."
Little more was said by any one, and the party, after many yawns,
separated for the night, to the great relief of their young guest, who
was exceedingly sleepy, and longing for darkness and silence.