Ray.You have a merry heart if you can guide it.Fol.Yes faith, so, so; I laugh not at those whom I fear; I fear notthose whom I love; and I love not any whom I laugh not at. Prettystrange humour, is't not?Ray.To any one that knows you not, it is.THE SUN'S DARLING.
The next morning Mr. Haveloc went to his estate as he had intended; and Margaret found herself again in undisturbed possession of Ashdale. But for fear she should enjoy her liberty too much, Hubert Gage found his way to the house almost every morning. He knew very well that when he could not obtain his sister's company, Margaret would not come down to see him, if he seemed to pay a formal visit, but he alwayscontrived to have some message, or some piece of music, some excellent advice about her greyhound, or other trifling passport to her presence; and when Elizabeth did go with him, it was very easy to loiter the whole morning there; that is to say, from a little before luncheon to a little before dinner.
Mr. Grey's only idea on the subject was, that Hubert Gage was a very fine young man, and very attentive to his sister.
Captain Gage was more clear-sighted; he told Elizabeth that Hubert seemed to have taken a fancy to Margaret; that she was a very nice little girl, well born and handsome; that he understood she had ten thousand pounds for her fortune, and it was very likely that Mr. Grey would leave her something very considerable; so that a younger son, as Hubert was, would have reason to think himself very well off if he could win her. That they were a couple of children, and that it was quite a consideration for the future. He should get him afloat again asas soon he could, and if he came back in the same mind with regard to Margaret, then they would see about it.
Just at this time, the stability of his attachment was put to a slight test.
When he first returned home, his father wrote to his brother George who was with his regiment in Ireland, urging him to obtain leave of absence, that he might come over and see his brother. Captain Gage thus counted on having two of his sons at home together, for he was very much attached to his children, and nothing gave him greater satisfaction than to have them about him.
Now George Gage liked his brother very much, and would have had no objection to pay his father a visit, but it happened that a steeple-chase, in which he was deeply interested, was coming off at that time, so he wrote to say that he could not get leave of absence, which was so far true that he had never applied for it; but strongly recommended Hubert to take the trouble of crossing over to see him,holding out many inducements to that effect; the most powerful of which was the steeple-chase.
Captain Gage, who had passed his life in the delusion that it was impossible for a gentleman to swerve by a hair's breadth from the truth, firmly believed his son's statement, and advised Hubert to set off at once for Ireland. It was provoking enough, he said, that George could not get leave at present, but since there was a way for them to meet, why the best thing was to avail himself of it without delay.
He was very glad, he said to Elizabeth, to find by George's letter, how very anxious he was to have Hubert with him; for there was nothing so delightful as to see the members of a family attached to each other.
Elizabeth acceded to this remark, although she had not as firm a persuasion of her brother's warmth of feeling as her father had.
So Hubert set off in a day or two; afterhaving called at Ashdale to take what he intended to be a very impressive farewell of Margaret; but it so happened that the antics of her Italian greyhound, which had become entangled in its silver chain, amused them both so highly, that they spent the whole time in laughing, so that when he rose to go, it was as much as he could manage to make his adieux intelligible.
Mrs. Somerton and her youngest daughter had returned to the vicarage, where they spent that part of the year which was not passed in visiting among their relatives and friends. The eldest daughter had been invited by an aunt to spend the season in London, and Blanche took up her abode in the retired village of Ashdale with very decided feelings of discontent and mortification.
Now I am sorry to say that Blanche Somerton, although very pretty, was not very good. She was rather tall, and slightly made, with very small head, hands, and feet. Her complexion was delicatelypale, and her face like a child's with bright black eyes, a short nose, and a pretty mouth always half open and displaying a set of small and pearly teeth. But as a set off to these attractions, she hardly ever told the truth, even in the veriest trifles. She would tell a falsehood about the colour of a ribbon, and would say that a friend wore a white dress, simply because it happened to be green. Sometimes these mistakes assumed a more serious character, but if she was found out in any of them she merely laughed.
They were very poor. Her mother was always embarrassed in money matters, and although she had recourse to many contrivances to eke out her small income, they were insufficient to keep her out of debt. Had it not been for Mr. Warde's frequent kindness, I really believe the poor woman would have found her way to a prison. Their's was bitter poverty; far more bitter and hard to bear than the physical poverty of the poor. Their's was the constanteffort at maintaining an appearance among their friends, almost all of whom were in a condition of life superior to their own. The wearing anxiety of heavy and increasing debts, and the dread lest the fact should become known, and prevent the girls from settling. She had applied so often and drawn so largely upon Mr. Warde, that she could not reasonably expect that he would do much more to assist her. She was again in debt, yet she continued to order at every house, where she had any credit left, all sorts of finery for herself and her daughters, in the hope that it might facilitate their establishment. She thought under these circumstances that it would be advisable for Blanche to marry Hubert Gage. He was a second son, and a Lieutenant in the Navy. These were not agreeable facts, but she took it for granted he would be made a Commander in a year or two, and then he might afford to marry if his father chose to "behave handsomely;" a comprehensive term, which seems tomean, a behaviour as opposed as possible to what you have any right to expect.
But although Mrs. Somerton sketched out a plan of action with great ease and rapidity, it was necessary that she should engage her daughter to carry it out, or her trouble would be in vain. These cabinet councils were seldom of a very placid character. It was, perhaps, natural that poverty should have embittered Mrs. Somerton's temper—it was never very even—and at this period it might be aptly described by the word fractious. One of Blanche's greatest faults was, that she would never submit in silence to her mother's peevish remonstrances, although they seldom made her angry; she either laughed, or turned them into ridicule.
Mrs. Somerton now stated the case to her daughter as strongly as she could, reproached her with being still single, reminded her that sailors were very easily attracted, and urged her to lose no time in supplanting Margaret, who she said mustbe a shockingly forward little creature to have made herself already the talk of the place with Hubert Gage. Blanche was lying on the sofa reading a novel, and the only notice she took of her mother's eloquence was to nod her head, and turn over a page.
Mrs. Somerton naturally grew irritable and impetuous, and it was not until she was fairly angry that her daughter threw aside the book, and joined in the conversation.
"Yes—yes. Dear me! don't disturb yourself," said the amiable Blanche. "I mean to detach Hubert from that pretty little doll; but I shall not throw myself away upon a beggar, and a second son, I assure you."
"Hubert Gage is not a beggar," interposed Mrs. Somerton, "he has five hundred a year of his own."
"The mighty sum!" exclaimed Blanche, "but I intend to have somebody else."
"Well, let me hear who it is?"
"Do you suppose I mean to tell you?" asked Blanche, "pray let me read in peace."
"Is it the eldest Gage? Because I can tell you he is not to be caught."
"Yes," retorted Blanche, "it is likely I should go on a pilgrimage to Cork for the purpose of making George Gage an offer. That is so like you!"
Mrs. Somerton was highly exasperated at this reply, and upbraided Blanche with obstinacy and ingratitude, and want of feeling, and want of prudence, until her exordium was interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Warde. It was a contrast which would have struck painfully upon some people, to see the kind old gentleman come in, quite unconscious of the occupation of his sister and niece, engrossed with the cares of his parish, full of some touching history of want and sorrow, which he would sit down, and relate at full length, not believing that any one could hear it without interest. Years ago, when Blanche was achild, she would have cried heartily at such a recital, and have done her best to send some relief to the sufferers; but time and bad training had done their work. She cared less about the matter than if an accident had happened to her spaniel, and was turning over in her mind, the trimming she would have to her next bonnet, while she went through the proper exclamations during her uncle's narrative.
About this time some races were held, at which all the neighbourhood were to attend. There was a ball in the evening, and Captain Gage desired to fill his house with company, that they might go in a party to the race and ball. Miss Gage asked Margaret to stay with her during these festivities, and her father sent an invitation to Mrs. Somerton and her daughter, which was gladly accepted. Hubert Gage was on his road home, and was bringing his brother George with him. He had obtained leave suddenly, for he recollected the spring races, and had somecuriosity to see Margaret. It had been difficult to make Hubert talk of any body else, and he thought if she was really very beautiful, and had slender ancles, and a good prospect of inheriting Mr. Grey's property, besides her own ten thousand pounds, shemightdo for him. She was worth looking after at any rate; and as these things can seldom be transacted by proxy, he was forced to take the trouble of coming over to decide upon her merits.
Ma pur mostrava anchor grand' arroganza,Tanto superbo havea l'aspetto fiero,E qualunche il mirasse in su Bajardo,Direbbe, quest'è 'l fior d'ogni gagliardo.BOIARDO.
A few minutes before Margaret was setting out for Chirke Weston, Mr. Grey called her into the library, where he was standing at one of the windows, with a letter in his hand.
Margaret threaded her way through the heavy carved oak furniture, and joined her uncle. A groom was leading a beautiful bay horse slowly to and fro before the windows.
"Oh, uncle! is it really—I can hardlybelieve that beautiful creature is actually for me."
"Yes, my child, if he suits, which I feel no doubt of—for Claude is very careful, and he writes me word that the horse was the property of a lady. You will meet him at the Gages, and he comes on here after the ball. You may tell him, I take it very kind that he bore in mind that I was looking out for a horse, and that I feel sure I shall buy him."
Margaret much as she felt obliged to Mr. Haveloc for having found her a horse, had no intention of giving him Mr. Grey's message. It was an exertion to which she could not feel equal, unless he should introduce the subject.
She arrived at Chirke Weston about an hour before dinner, and having made her toilet, came down to the drawing-room with some trepidation; for Miss Gage had told her that there was a large party expected.
Sir Evan and Lady Conway were alreadyin the room with their two daughters. The girls were tall, bright-eyed, dark, dashing, and well-dressed: they were practising the Mazourka, which was then just beginning to turn people's heads, and looked so formidable to poor Margaret, that she involuntarily shrank closer to the side of her friend Elizabeth. They left off their dancing to be introduced to Margaret, and stood clustered round the fire, talking with more ease and friendliness than she would have imagined from their appearance. She rose a step in Miss Conway's opinion, when she said she knew the Mazourka, and another step or two when she avowed that she liked it very much.
Harriet, the younger sister, fixed her immense dark eyes upon her, and then said, laughing, "You are too young to be stared at—but it is a great temptation."
Margaret felt glad that she had come to that determination, but she liked the appearance of Miss Harriet more than that of her sister.
She appeared to be in very ill-health; her hair had been cut off in an illness, and was now beginning to grow in tendrils all round her small head. She was very thin and pale, and her dress was made high, and finished with costly lace. And whenever a person ventures upon such a toilet, it gives an air of 'retenue' to the figure, which might almost point out to other women, that there is a little want of refinement in the wanton exposure with which they too often favour the public. Nothing, on that score, however, could be urged against Elizabeth and Margaret, who though they conformed to fashion, were careful to mark a distinction in their dress between a gentlewoman and an opera-dancer.
Mrs. Somerton and her daughter now made their appearance; then some people who were entire strangers to Margaret; then Mr. Conway with his glass in his eye; and after him Hubert Gage and Mr. Haveloc.
These last both made their way to Margaret at the same time. Mr.Haveloc merely made the usual enquiries about herself and her uncle, and then leaned against the mantle-piece in perfect silence. Hubert Gage had more to say. He had to describe his passage and his visit to Ireland, and all the things which happened on his return. He had to invent a storm, which made Margaret turn pale; and a variety of dialogues between the passengers upon their supposed danger, which set her laughing merrily.
Blanche Somerton, who was sitting near, did not quite like this prolonged conversation. She turned round and summoned him to her side.
"I am so sorry to trouble you, Mr. Hubert," she said, "but do look at my bouquet. I came away in such a hurry—see, it will not fit my bouquetiére; the stalks are too long."
"That is a difficulty very easy to remedy," said Hubert, taking the bouquet from her. "Now I wish young ladies werealways as modest in their demands; they do ask one such impossible things sometimes."
"No, but what sort of things?" asked Blanche. "Do tell me, I so long to know. I really believe that you are very severe upon women."
"By no means. I am too sincere an admirer of the fair sex to be exacting. Stay, this is not quite right yet—let me shorten these stalks again."
"You will spoil that nice penknife, I am afraid."
"That is not of the slightest consequence," said he laughing, "particularly as it is not my property."
"Then you mean to say that if it was yours—"
"I should feel double pleasure in sacrificing it of course. Dinner already! Now you must take my arm, you see. I have not quite finished the arrangement of your flowers. It is certainly a beautiful bouquet. I hardly know which to admire most, the flowers or the bouquetiére. Quitenew this sort of thing—is it not?"
Every body was rising and pairing off—Hubert Gage, with Blanche on his arm, sauntered past Margaret, arranging the bouquet as he walked along.
Margaret looked after him with some surprise; his attendance had been a thing that she was so certain of late to meet with, that she could scarcely comprehend his transferring it to somebody else. There was a little mortification in her mind for a minute, for no one likes to be robbed of an admirer, however willing she may be to give him up. But she understood it in a moment. Love hangs on such a slender thread with every one, that she could never, and did never regard Hubert Gage with a warmer interest than what might belong to a pleasant acquaintance. She was too romantic, too exacting in her ideas of love to suppose, for a moment, that a man who once entertained a serious thought of her could be engrossed in her presence by another woman.
Mr. Haveloc was at her side almost as soon as Hubert passed, and she felt grateful for the attention. It prevented the awkwardness of seeming to wait till some one was desired to take her in to dinner.
Just as all the company were arranging themselves round the table, George Gage clattered into the room exactly as he came off his journey, not appearing to have thought it worth while to undergo the trouble of dressing for dinner. He noticed two or three people at table, found a vacant chair just opposite to Margaret, and seeing a new and beautiful face, glared at her over his soup-plate without remorse.
Certainly there was a great contrast between the two brothers. Whereas Hubert endeavoured, for no earthly motive, to efface all traces of his profession from his dress and language, George Gage, with as little show of reason, seemed never for a moment to forget his calling.
He stalked about as if the world was made for his sole benefit and pleasure, and contrived to make such a great jingling whenhe walked, that Margaret seriously thought, the first time she heard him cross the marble hall, that a dray-horse had broken loose and was making his way to the drawing-room. This was the more strange as he did not dress in chain armour, but in a costume, something between a farmer and a baker's apprentice. He flourished his walking-stick as if he were leading a charge of cavalry; or held it in the pocket of his coat, which seemed an equally odd way of disposing of it. He was very arrogant in his manner to every body, except the few ladies who were deemed by him of sufficient birth and beauty to be honoured by his notice, and to them his manner assumed a softness and an assiduity which rather puzzled Margaret, who was edified by his laconic replies to the country gentlemen, and his haughty mode of speaking to the servants. But, as she was one of the chosen few to whom he condescended, she at least had no reason to complain.
He was attached to his father; though,(and this was a heavy objection,) he did not like the fashion of his cravats, and respected him too, without being quite satisfied with his choice of a boot-maker. This was an instance of filial virtue which would hardly have been believed by his companions, but which was true notwithstanding.
These several traits, however, did not flash upon Margaret all at once, but became evident in the course of her acquaintance with him. At present she was merely aware that his great blue eyes were perusing her with an expression to which she was not accustomed, and to which no modest woman can ever become accustomed—the critical and scrutinising expression of a Turk in a Slave Market.
It was a relief to her to turn to Mr. Haveloc, who was rendering her the common courtesies of the table, with an earnestness which formed a sufficient contrast to the laughing manner of Hubert Gage. It seemed almost as if meeting at a strange house put them more at ease with each other.
"You remain here some days, do you not?" asked Mr. Haveloc.
"Yes, until after the races and the ball, and the early flower show at S——."
"You mean to see a great deal of the world then before you come back to Ashdale."
"Yes," said Margaret, "I shall have so much to tell my uncle about."
Mr. Haveloc gave her one of those softened smiles, which changed so entirely the expression of his features.
"You look forward with pleasure," he said, "to giving Mr. Grey an account of your adventures."
"I do indeed," said Margaret.
"And so do I."
"You, Mr. Haveloc!"
"Yes, I shall come in for the narrative. Perhaps you do not know that I shall return to Ashdale before you do."
"Yes, my uncle told me so," said Margaret, with something like a sigh.
Now, nothing in general so much offendsa man as not appearing extremely delighted with his society; but Mr. Haveloc, perhaps from the novelty of the thing, seemed rather pleased than otherwise.
"You don't look so glad as you ought," he said, with a smile, "which is rather ungrateful on your part; for to me Ashdale would lose very much of its attraction if you were absent."
It was enough to make her blush, such a marked compliment, and from such a person; and, to heighten her confusion, there was George Gage still staring at her on the other side of the table, as only a military man can stare.
"I suppose," said Mr. Haveloc, "the truth is, that you think you cannot tell Mr. Grey your little secrets when I am present; that is why you wish me away."
Margaret had not said she wished him away, but she did not contradict him.
"Of course I should not tell my uncle many things before you," she said, "because little circumstances, which are new tome and strange to him, now that he never goes out, would seem very trifling to a third person."
"Don't you know," said Mr. Haveloc, "that first impressions are always interesting? You must not therefore prevent my hearing yours."
Miss Gage was rising at this moment, and Margaret availed herself of the move to avoid giving a reply.
When the ladies returned to the drawing-room, they gathered round the fire, and began to discuss the amusements of the next day. Margaret, who was standing by Elizabeth Gage, looked earnestly in her face to see whether she could really enter into conversation of so trifling a nature as that which was going on among the ladies.
Yes,—Elizabeth patiently heard Miss Lawson Smith's complaints of her crape ball dress, which had not been trimmed with roses of the proper tint, and gave as much comfort as she could under thecircumstances; and she endeavoured to decide upon a bonnet for Miss Conway, when that young lady professed to be unable to bring the matter to a conclusion for herself.
"Recollect, my dear Lucy," said she, "that if the Fates grant us a fine day to-morrow, it will be made up of a bright sun and a keen north wind; the only advantage of an airy toilet, is to make you look blue upon the course, and send you home with a severe cold."
The prospect of a cold did not seem to frighten Lucy, but she was keenly alive to the disadvantages of looking blue.
Harriet Conway looking up from the footstool upon which she was seated close to the fire, remarked that, "her costume gave her no sort of trouble, as she was to ride on horseback to the races."
Margaret looked at her with some surprise and no little envy, thinking what a bold, accomplished horsewoman she must be.
"How do you feel to-night, darling?" asked her mother.
"Oh! very comfortable," said Harriet, leaning her head on her mother's lap, as Lady Conway took the arm-chair beside her; "quite well as long as I have nothing to do that I don't like."
"How I wish that you could go to the ball to-morrow, dearest," said her mother.
"Thank you," said Harriet, "but that is one of the things I don't like; besides, after being on horseback all the morning, I shall be glad to go to bed as soon as I have seen you all off in your finery."
"Such a pity, so well as you dance the Mazourka," said Lucy Conway, "for one meets such nice people at this ball. I really think if you took proper care—"
"Oh! we will run no risks," said Lady Conway, anxiously, "you coughed at dinner, I observed."
"It was the pepper,mamma mia," said Harriet; "but I have no intention of going to the ball. Bessy! send me overthat pretty little thing by your side. I have a mind to talk to her."
"What say you," asked Elizabeth smiling, "will you venture?"
Margaret complied with a little timidity in her manner.
"Why, you don't mean to say you are afraid of me," said Harriet taking Margaret's hand in her long, slender fingers, "I would excuse you, if I were a man. Well now, are you fond of riding?"
"I am just going to learn," said Margaret "it is the thing of all others I wish for."
"You ought to have begun younger," said Harriet, "but we will see what we can make of you. What is the colour of your riding-habit?"
"Blue," replied Margaret.
"True blue," said Harriet looking intently into the fire; "how do you like Hubert Gage?"
"I don't see how that follows," said Margaret smiling; "but I like him very well."
"Good," said Harriet; "I see it is not a tender subject. You know the Gages are relations of ours. Are you not, Bessy?"
"Connexions, my dear Harriet; but I am quite ready to acknowledge the relationship."
"And is this your first ball?" said Harriet, turning again to Margaret.
"Yes."
"Don't you feel very nervous, and pleased, and frightened, and impatient?"
"Not very," said Margaret. "I wish very much to go, and I know Bessy and—and—two or three people."
"Are you engaged yet?"
"No. But if I do not dance, I shall be so amused with looking on, that it will be no disappointment to me."
"Very modest on your part; but I hear the gentlemen coming, so I must leave this charming footstool, or I shall be accused of fifty things. Here in this corner is room for two, so let us continue our conversation."
"Everything is so new to me," said Margaret, as she surveyed the room lit up with clusters of lamps, the heavy crimson curtains, the splendid gilt furniture, and the groups of gentlemen standing about the lady's chairs, drinking coffee, "this seems to me a very grand party; but perhaps it appears to you nothing."
"An ordinary dinner party," said Harriet; "perhaps they run rather large at this house. Uncle Gage, have you quite made up your book? Because I shall be happy to offer you odds upon Rory O'More."
Captain Gage who was passing with Sir Evan Conway, stopped short before the two girls.
"I will have nothing to do with you," he said to Harriet, "you are far too deep for me. I believe you are hand in glove with Lord Raymond's groom."
Sir Evan and Captain Gage both laughed very much at this charge.
Harriet with a deepened colour protestedagainst having ever seen the groom, or the horse.
Captain Gage turned to Margaret, and asked if she had been taking lessons in the science of book-making; adding, "that as she must be a novice as yet, he was willing to risk a pair of gloves with her."
Margaret said "she was not going to bet at all; that Bessy had advised her not."
"Bessy is a prude," said Captain Gage, looking much pleased, "you should never mind anything she says to you."
Margaret laughed, and shook her head, and the gentlemen passed on.
Then Hubert Gage made his way to the sofa, and began to rally Harriet and Margaret upon the retired spot they had chosen, admired Margaret's fan, and Harriet's gloves, and in fact went on as young men generally do when they wish to render themselves agreeable; in the midst of which discourse, Mr. Haveloc walked straight up to Margaret, and without any prologue, beggedto have the honour of dancing the first quadrille with her the next evening.
Margaret blushed and consented, and Mr. Haveloc bowed and walked away, while Hubert Gage drawing a chair close to the sofa, dropped into it and laughed immoderately.
"I never knew such a fellow," he exclaimed, "just at the moment that I was gaining courage to make such a request, he must needs step forwards and cut me out. It is too bad—don't you pity me? The second quadrille then, if you have any compassion."
"Mr. Hubert," said Blanche Somerton coming up, "we want your help so very much in this glee of Gödbe's. Will you take the tenor part?"
"Oh! if I am wanted," said Hubert, rising. "Miss Capel, I do not mean to stir without your answer."
"The second quadrille?" said Margaret.
"Exactly; unless you prefer the first Mazourka."
"Oh! but you do not know the Mazourka."
"No; but you can teach me so nicely in the morning."
"I will not undertake you," said Margaret laughing.
"Then I fall back upon the quadrille. Miss Somerton I am at your service."
Mr. George Gage now loitered up the room very slowly, and planted himself against the wall, close to Margaret. He first took her cup out of her hand and set it down, and then after a very careful survey of her from head to foot, he "hoped he should be so fortunate as to secure her hand for the first waltz. He confessed that he never danced quadrilles."
Margaret hesitated; she did not at all like the prospect of such a partner, but as she had no wish to sit still thenceforward, she accepted.
Mr. Gage set down her embarrassment to his own infinite attractions, and was satisfied. He then made a few ordinary remarksto her about the neighbourhood; but although he did not address a word to Harriet Conway, Margaret who was very quick-sighted, observed that they bestowed upon each other, from time to time, glances which seemed to express dislike, almost defiance. At length, after one of these singular looks, Harriet said, with her peculiarly clear intonation, "I do not offer you a seat, Mr. Gage."
"I should be sorry to disturb you," he replied coldly; and removed to a little distance as he spoke.
Margaret made up a little romance in her mind directly; in which Harriet figured as an obdurate lady, and Mr. Gage as a desponding lover. She had leisure for these fancies, for Harriet became silent, and George Gage, though standing near, did not renew his conversation. Some of the older people were playing at cards; Lucy Conway was at the harp, Hubert almost held prisoner by Blanche Somerton, and Elizabeth was moving about among the guests withall the dignity and grace of a young Queen.
"My dear Harriet," said Lady Conway coming up to her, "it is very late, and you are looking fagged. Do recollect what is before you to-morrow; and slip out of the room without the ceremony of a good night."
"I cannot very well," replied Harriet, "for I must ring for a shawl. I dare not leave this hot room without one."
Margaret offered to fetch Miss Conway a shawl of her own.
"No, not for worlds you kind little creature," said Harriet laying her hand on Margaret's arm, "it will do me no harm in the world to sit quietly here until the good people choose to separate."
While this was going on, Mr. Gage went up to Elizabeth, and said something to her; she fetched a shawl from one of the sofas, and he crossed over to Miss Harriet, and begged to have the honour of putting it on.
Harriet opened wide her large transparent eyes, with the crimson spot deepening on her cheek; thanked him, regretted to have given him the trouble; and then wrapping the large Cachemere completely round her, walked out of the room. George Gage stood with folded arms looking after her for some moments, and then threw himself on the sofa by the side of Margaret. She was not disposed to be pleased with him; but she could not deny that his manner possessed a certain charm, when he chose to exert it. It was true that he said nothing either witty or profound, but his language was easy and well chosen; and the softness of his tone, together with the exceeding interest he pretended to feel for the replies of his companion, could scarcely fail of making a favourable impression. The great drawback to his demeanour, was his remorseless and unceasing stare. Sometimes Margaret thought that something must be the matter with her sleeve, sometimes that her hair was comingunfastened at the back, sometimes she wondered what there was peculiar in her shoe, and again she supposed that the fashion of her bracelet was unusual. With this exception, he rendered himself an amusing companion, and if Margaret had been more conversant with military men, she would have been willing to allow that in tact and information, he was very superior to the average of those gentlemen, who to serve Her Majesty, and their own convenience, are content to wear a certain disguise for a given period of time.
The evening passed quickly enough. Some young ladies sang, some played. George Gage remained lounging on the sofa by her side. Hubert was in great request at the piano, for he sang very well, and read music easily at sight. Mr. Gage asked Margaret if she exhibited, as he called it—thanked Heaven, with praiseworthy fervour, that he was not guilty of such a failing himself, and advised her to let him drive her to the course in his phaeton thenext day. Margaret gave no definite answer to this proposal. The party was dispersing, and when she reached her room, she was so heartily tired, that she could do no more than return Elizabeth's embrace, and consign herself to the care of Miss Mason, who with all her dispatch, could hardly get her to bed before she was asleep.
Faste to those looks are all my fancies tied,Pleas'de with thy sweetness, angry with thy pride.PEELE.
Ray.—Ay, 'tis an old saide saying, I have reddeIn certaine bokes that love is like to smoke;But I say rather it is liker fire,Which kindleth after men have put it out;Often upon a little breath of ayre.ANON.
The morning was, as Elizabeth had predicted, bright as a poet's dream, or a poet's waking; but a north wind swept the half-clothed boughs of the trees, and warned all discreet persons to protect themselves from the cold air. Horses and carriages were assembling in front of the house, and the guests were collecting by slow degrees in the drawing-room previous to starting.
Harriet Conway appeared in her habit, which very much became her slender figure. She threw her riding whip and gauntlets into her hat which stood in the window seat, looked round for Margaret, who had become quite a little pet of hers; drew her into the window, examined her dress and praised it; told her how she ought to wear her hair under a hat; looked at her rings and admired her hands, and asked her how it was arranged that she should go to the course. George Gage, who was standing near talking to Mr. Conway, turned round on hearing the question, and said that he hoped Miss Capel would not retract the permission she had almost given him to drive her thither; upon which Hubert announced his intention of calling out his brother, which made everybody laugh except Margaret who was sadly confused. She said in a low voice to Harriet that she heartily wished Bessy would take her, for of all things, she dreaded being driven by Mr. Gage.
"How's that?" asked Harriet suddenly, "are you afraid?"
"No," returned Margaret, "but I—he is quite a stranger to me."
"Do you mind me, then?" asked Harriet.
"No," said Margaret laughing.
"Good," said Harriet, putting on her hat and gloves, "come, we are all ready, and I know Uncle Gage is impatient to be off. I'll manage it."
They stood on the steps while some of the elder persons of the party went off; and when George Gage's carriage drew up, Harriet came forward.
"I will drive Miss Capel, Mr. Gage;" she said, "for she has not a great deal of courage, and I shall be less likely than you to put it to the test."
"Surely not—surely you are not afraid of my driving;" said Mr. Gage, bending down to the level of Margaret's bonnet. "I had promised myself so great a pleasure, and you cannot doubt my caution on such an occasion."
"You are very good," said Margaret, "but really—those horses—"
"Come, come!" said Harriet, "give me the reins, I shall not be trying to show off as you would. Do be good-natured George, and let me drive; you can easily find a horse."
While she spoke, Margaret was struck with the alteration in Mr. Gage's countenance. Her chance was quite over with him, poor little girl; though she was entirely ignorant of ever having had any. He looked delighted, handed in Harriet and Margaret with the greatest care, and stood on the step arranging everything for Harriet's convenience.
"Why, I thought," he said, "you had given up all these bad habits. Will you like another pair of horses? You had better drive a four-in-hand, now you are about it."
"No," said Harriet, "I wish to go quietly for the sake of my little friend here; so let every one get out of my way, andwill you tell Charles to send my groom on with my horse?"
As she spoke, she touched the horses, and swept out of the gates. She was silent for a short time, and then said as with a sigh, as if to herself, "Bless me, I called him George."
"I am so much obliged to you," said Margaret after a pause, "now I shall quite enjoy this day's pleasure."
Harriet laughed, and drove on as fast as she could.
"So shall I," she said; "my horse will be as fresh as a lark when we get to the course; and these horses are worth driving. George—Mr. Gage, I mean, knows how to buy a horse."
"Suppose," said Margaret, "they were to run away."
"Then we should get to S—— all the faster," said Harriet.
"But you have not strength to stop them," said Margaret.
"Granted," said Harriet. "Here, will you take the reins for a moment?"
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Margaret looking up into her companion's face.
"I know where George keeps his cigars. I am going to take one, that's all."
Margaret looked aghast.
"They are perfectly quiet, on my word," said Harriet. "Oh! about the smoking. Do you mind it then?"
"No," returned Margaret, who had never been in company with any one while smoking. "I'll take the reins; but pray be quick."
Harriet was quick; before Margaret had time to be frightened, she had lit a cigar, and resumed the reins with all the unconcern in the world.
"I learned this at Madrid," she said from between her teeth. "Some day, if you please me, I'll tell you my history."
"All of it?" asked Margaret, looking up into her companion's face.
"Oh, yes! no half measures," returned Harriet.
They went to S—— by a cross-country road, and therefore fell in with very few of those who were likewise bound for the course. And by those few, Harriet, with her hat and habit, her short hair and cigar, was supposed as she whirled past them, to be a handsome boy.
Mr. Gage was already on the course with his party; he rode up with his brother and Mr. Haveloc to escort the ladies to the stand. Harriet had her horse brought up to the steps of the carriage, mounted at once, and rode off with Mr. Conway; and Hubert insisted on conducting Margaret to Elizabeth pleading his sister's commands to that effect.
And now they were seated in the very front of the stand, Elizabeth and Margaret together; the gentlemen of their party were dispersed about the course, and Margaret could distinguish in the distance the slight figure of Harriet Conway, guiding her spirited horse among the company, followed by her father and brother. She soon, however, lost sight of her in the crowd, and began to feel impatient for the first race to begin.
Now, their places being very good, attracted the envy of a couple of insolent dragoon officers, who had just arrived, and who tried by pushing in a most unjustifiable manner, to edge themselves in. Elizabeth turned round in haughty surprise, Margaret in childish wonder, and presented to the eyes of the eager officers, two of the loveliest faces on the race course.
"Oh!" said one of these cavaliers to the other, drawing back with a very blank and crest-fallen face, "Oh! I didn't know they were young uns!"
Margaret could hardly restrain her laughter at this audible ejaculation. Miss Gage contented herself by thanking Heaven with a curved lip, that they were soldiers.
"No sailor," she said to Margaret, "would ever annoy a woman, young or old. I am glad they were rude, these dragoons!"
The contempt with which this last word was pronounced, all the keener for its calmness, can scarcely be imagined.
"But I ought to apologise to you, dear," she continued; "though to suppose that your brave father had the most distant affinity to these popinjays, would be indeed too insulting."
Presently the race began, and Margaret forgot all about the rudeness of the officers in the interest of the scene.
After the race, they were joined by some of the gentlemen of their party. George Gage came up to his sister and leaned against the railing by her side, in that frame of mind so common to English people, which is called an ill-humour.
"Have you lost, George?" asked Elizabeth.
"No. I have no inducement to bet here," said Mr. Gage; "a miserable counterfeit of a race like this. I keep my losses for Epsom."
"And whereabouts is Harriet?"
"On the other side of the course with Charles Conway, and Lord Raymond. I congratulate her very much upon her choice.The fellow seems to have been born and bred in a stable."
"I hardly know him," said Elizabeth; "but I am afraid Harriet will be very tired, riding about so long, I wish she could be persuaded to sit quietly here until we go home."
"I will try if you wish it," said Mr. Gage, "but it can hardly be expected that she should leave so great an attraction as Lord Raymond."
"Go," said Elizabeth laughing, "I don't imagine his Lordship to be so irresistible."
As Mr. Gage was leaving the stand, he encountered the two officers before mentioned, who had crept to some distance from the ladies. One of these worthies had only lately exchanged from Mr. Gage's regiment into the one he now adorned, and he presented his companion to George.
There was some bowing, and lifting of hats and shaking of hands, and then George invited them to dine at his father's beforethe ball, and join their party thither, to which they readily agreed.
His mission proved successful. In a few minutes Harriet came in followed by her brother and Lord Raymond.
Margaret was very curious to see this nobleman; and although she had thought Mr. Gage's remark very harsh, she was not much surprised at it when he made his appearance. He was ill-dressed, not very young, clumsy in his person, and heavy in the expression of his features. He stammered a good deal, and was not happy in his conversational powers. His ideas were rather slow of circulation. He had got it into his head that it was the duty of an Englishman to cultivate racing; and it would have taken more years than he was likely to live, to convince him that it was a pernicious and disgraceful occupation. He was very much on the turf, but he was just skilful and cautious enough neither to gain or lose much in a year by the vice. At the present moment, Harriet was the objectof his attention, and he therefore talked of nothing else.
One of the party congratulated him upon his horse, which had just won the race.
"Yes," he said, "he was glad of it; for Miss Conway had betted upon Rory O'More."
Miss Gage asked him "if he had any other horse running that day?"
"No," he replied, "as he should leave the course presently. How was Miss Conway going home?"
Lady Conway remarked to him, "that it was a cold day."
"It was, indeed," he said, "he did not think Miss Conway seemed to be sufficiently wrapped up."
Harriet replied to both his remarks at once. "She said, that she meant to drive herself home, and that she was quite warm enough."
And by this time, the races being over for the day, and the company beginning todisperse, Harriet called to Margaret, and sent her brother to look for the carriage. Margaret was not sorry to be gone; she had a head-ache, which had been gradually growing worse, and she hoped that the fresh air would blow it away. Harriet lit another cigar as they went off the course; she asked Margaret again "if she objected to it?" and again Margaret said "No;" for though she thought it a very odd fancy in her companion, she did not find the smell disagreeable enough to oppose it. But her head became worse, and when she reached home, she was scarcely able to dress for dinner. She made an effort, however, and went down stairs. There were no candles in the drawing-room, which was dimly lighted by a very moderate fire.
Margaret felt chilly, and took a chair as close as she could to the fire-place, next to a person who seemed to be in a uniform, as far as she could tell by the glimmering light. He entered into general conversation with her, and among other desultory remarks,asked her "if she meant to accompany her daughter to the ball that evening?"
Margaret ascribed the mistake to the darkness, and contented herself with replying in the negative.
The stranger was directed to take her into the dining-room, and as they came into a blaze of light on crossing the hall, he discovered that the lady he had the honour of escorting was young and beautiful; for he had mistaken her for Mrs. Somerton, who was about Margaret's height.
As soon as his ideas became enlightened on this subject, he began to stammer out a few of those incoherent sentences with which young men of no education are apt to try to express their meaning.
"Upon my word—I—it is very strange now—I have a thousand apologies to—the most singular—I actually thought you—"
"Yes," said Margaret quietly, in one moment recognizing her friend of the race course, "it is not the first time to-day you have thought I was not a 'young un.'"
It would have done any artist good to have seen the officer's face. His line was a bad one, but he was not first rate in his line—not a Lovelace, or a Pelham. He had not learned to be found out with a good grace. Like Fag, it hurt his conscience. He changed colour, and looked a good deal smaller than usual. Of course the first thing he did was to tell a lie. He hoped he had not pushed against her in the stand—some people behind, had been pressing upon him so scandalously, that he almost feared he had inconvenienced some ladies in the front of the stand; he hoped it had not been the case.
Margaret, rather amused at the way in which he got through the difficulty, made some slight reply, and took her place at the table. By some accident she was separated from the hero of the race course, and found herself between Mr. Haveloc, and Hubert Gage. Harriet Conway, still in her riding habit, sat on the other side of the said hero.
"Hubert, cannot you save Margaret the trouble of carving that dish, whatever it is?" said Harriet, seeing that Margaret looked embarrassed at the task.
"I could, but I do not wish it," said Hubert. "It is so very becoming," he added in a low voice to Margaret, "ladies with such beautiful arms should always carve."
"I wish you would help me, instead of talking nonsense," said Margaret, who was colouring very much under the impression that two or three persons had their eyes fixed on her, "you see how disagreeable it is to me."
Before she had done speaking, Mr. Haveloc had taken the knife and fork from her hands.
"That's right," said Harriet, speaking across to Mr. Haveloc.
"I do wish you would go to the ball, Harriet," said Hubert.
"Don't you really go the ball?" echoed Mr. Elliot, the hero before mentioned, "howcan you be so cruel as to remain at home?"
"Yes—you wish to dance with me, don't you?" said Harriet, turning suddenly round upon him. "I'll tell you why I don't go. I detest dancing; unless one could hire a partner as they do in Flanders, and the man felt his value to be one kreutzer, and no more." A good many men can get on very well with people who are exactly like every body they are in the habit of meeting, but any thing like a character puts them quite out. So Mr. Elliot got up a little laugh and was silent. At last, he enquired of Harriet what amusement she preferred to dancing.
"Pistol shooting," said Harriet. "There's the man with the champagne. Don't you take any?"
"You take no wine?" said Mr. Elliot.
"No—I never do," returned Harriet.
"And what can you hit with the pistol?"
"A wine-glass at sixteen paces."
"How often?"
"Sometimes. What can you hit?"
"A—why—a—"
"A hay-stack, I suppose. Tell somebody to bring me the cream."
"Have you heard Fornasari?" asked Mr. Elliot.
"No. What is he like?"
"Oh, very fine really! You would be delighted!"
"What is fine?" asked Harriet impatiently. "I want to know the sort of singer; and you call him fine!"
Mr. Elliot never having heard of a definition, was naturally silent under this attack.
"Have you been to town lately?" asked Harriet.
"Yes. I am only just returned."
"Have you seen the new marbles then?"
"The—I beg your pardon."
"The marble from Xanthis in the British Museum?"
"I don't quite—I believe they took meonce to the Museum when I was a boy in the Christmas holidays, along with the pantomimes."
"Ah! it is not now in the same place with the pantomimes; we have changed all that," said Harriet. "I say, Hubert, my Skye terrier caught a rat yesterday out walking."
"No, did he? I wish I had been there," said Hubert, "Why did not you let me walk with you?"
"It was before you came home. Don't you know you were only just in time for dinner."
"So I was. What did you win of me, Miss Capel?"
"Nothing," said Margaret, "I would not bet at all."
"I was so sorry for your determination," said George Gage, across the table to Margaret, "it would have been such a pleasure to lose to you."
And upon this gallant speech, he and Harriet exchanged one of their singular glances.
"You did not care which horse won, did you?" asked Hubert.
"Yes, I did," said Margaret, "but I knew that one would not win."
"Which was it?"
"Hyacinth. It was such a pretty name."
"And how did you contrive to form so correct an estimate of Hyacinth's merits?" asked George Gage.
"Oh! I knew nothing about it," said Margaret. "Harriet told me."
"Miss Conway has the advantage of a friend behind the scenes," said George coolly; and then another glance flashed across the table from Harriet's splendid eyes.
Mr. Elliot mentioned the name of the person to whom Hyacinth belonged—made some remark upon the fore-foot of the animal, and then was silent; naturally thinking that he had instructed the company enough for one while.
When Margaret returned to the drawing-room, she found her head so very muchworse, that she was obliged to tell Elizabeth, in confidence, that she did not think she would be able to go to the ball.
She said this with her eyes full of tears; partly on account of the delicate white crape dress, which was laid out in her room with its pretty garniture of lilac primroses.
Elizabeth was all kindness. She would not hear of her giving up the ball, but took her into her own sitting-room, and tried every remedy that her ingenuity could suggest. At last, while bathing her forehead with eau de Cologne, she exclaimed, "My dear child, I hope that foolish Harriet has not been persuading you to smoke."
"No, indeed!" said Margaret earnestly, "but it was the horrid scent of those cigars. I had no head-ache before."
"How vexatious!" exclaimed Miss Gage. "I must read her a lecture upon it. But if you keep very quiet until we set off, my dear Margaret, you may be able to go. I cannot endure that you should be disappointed. Indeed, two or three people,"said she smiling, "will endure it as ill as myself."
Margaret blushed, and wondered to herself who Elizabeth could mean; but she was suffering too much to make the attempt. She was too giddy to stand, too ill to think of undergoing another toilet, or to be able to sit up all night afterwards. She made the best of it, however; said the pleasure was only postponed; tried not to think of her lilac primroses, and laughed at Harriet who was really distressed, when she learned that she had caused her little friend's illness.
Hubert Gage was very much discomposed. He was quite certain that Margaret had not tried the proper remedies, and that if he could see her, he would set every thing to rights in a moment. She ought to have brandy—but ladies never knew what was good for them. His complaints were disregarded however; so he turned away and asked Blanche Somerton to dance with him.
Mr. Haveloc looked annoyed, "regretted exceedingly to hear that Miss Capel was suffering," and went to learn the particulars of Miss Gage.
George seemed the most vexed of the party; for he naturally thought it was very wrong that every thing should not happen just as he liked, and he had wished to waltz with Margaret.
He therefore said, that for his part he did not think he should go to the ball that evening. He was not fond of dancing, and he really did think somebody ought to be at home, in case of Miss Capel becoming worse.
At this considerate announcement, Harriet drew up her handsome mouth as if she was going to whistle, and then coming forward, said, "I stay at home, Mr. Gage, and I imagine that I shall be very well able to take care of Miss Capel. Therefore you had better go and make yourself decent, and accompany your friends to the ball."
This remark, which seemed to convey an opinion by no means flattering to Mr. Gage's costume, appeared rather to amuse him.
He said, that he did not know Miss Conway was such a judge of dress; and asked her if she could recommend him a model.
Captain Gage, hearing his son's declaration that he would stay at home, now came up in a great bustle. He had no idea of not taking with him both his handsome sons, as well as his daughter. He was very proud of his children, and pleased himself in the thought that they would excite great attention in the ball-room.
"No, my dear boy, you can't stay at home. Impossible!" he said. "We would all stay at home if we could do the poor thing any good. But here you would be only in the way. Would he not, Harriet?"
"Decidedly," said Harriet, with one of her flashing looks.
Mr. Gage bit his lip, and turned to leave the room.
"There, go and make yourself decent," said Captain Gage, echoingHarriet's words. "Upon my honour, I am very sorry for the poor little girl. Her first ball too!"