Scenes and Characters, or, Eighteen Months at BeechcroftYonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
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Scenes and Characters, or, Eighteen Months at Beechcroft
Yonge, Charlotte M. (Charlotte Mary)
Domestic fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Emily was much surprised to find Phyllis her _vis à vis_. Emily was very
generally known and liked, and had no lack of grand partners, but she
would have liked to dance with the Marquis. When the quadrille was over,
she was glad to put herself in his way, by coming up to take charge of
Phyllis.
‘Well done, Phyl,’ said he; ‘no mistakes. You must have another dance.
Whom shall we find for you?’
‘Oh! Rotherwood,’ said Emily, ‘you cannot think how you gratified us all
with your speech.’
‘Ah! I always set my heart on saying something of the kind; but I wished
I could have dared to add the bride’s health.’
‘The bride!’
‘Do not pretend to have no eyes,’ said Lord Rotherwood, with a
significant glance, which directed Emily’s eyes to the terrace, where Mr.
Mohun and Alethea were walking together in eager conversation.
Emily was ready to sink into the earth. Jane’s surmises, and the
mysterious words of her father, left her no further doubt. At this
moment some one asked her to dance, and scarcely knowing what she did or
said, she walked to her place. Lord Rotherwood now found a partner for
Phyllis, and a farmer’s daughter for himself.
This dance over, Phyllis’s partner did not well know how to dispose of
her, and she grew rather frightened on finding that none of her sisters
were in sight. At last she perceived Reginald standing on the bank, and
made her escape to him.
‘Redgie, did you see who I have been dancing with? Cousin Rotherwood and
Claude’s grand Oxford friend—Mr. Travers.’
‘It is all nonsense,’ said Reginald. ‘Come out of this mob of people.’
‘But where is Eleanor?’
‘Somewhere in the midst. They are all absurd together.’
‘What is the matter, Redgie?’ asked Phyllis, unable to account for this
extraordinary fit of misanthropy.
‘Papa and William both driving me about like a dog,’ said Reginald;
‘first I danced with Miss Weston—then she saw that woman—that Miss
Aylmer—shook hands—talked—and then nothing would serve her but to find
papa. As soon as the Baron sees me he cries out, “Why are not you
dancing, Redgie? We do not want you!” Up and down they walk, ever so
long, and presently papa turns off, and begins talking to Miss Aylmer.
Then, of course, I went back to Miss Weston, but then up comes William,
as savage as one of his Canadian bears; he orders me off too, and so here
I am! I am sure I am not going to ask any one else to dance. Come and
walk with me in peace, Phyl. Do you see them?—Miss Weston and Marianne
under that tulip-tree, and the Captain helping them to ice.’
‘Redgie, did you give Miss Weston her nosegay? Some one put such
beautiful flowers in it, such as I never saw before.’
‘How could I? They sent me off with Lily and Jane. I told William I had
the flowers in charge, and he said he would take care of them. By the
bye, Phyl,’ and Reginald gave a wondrous spring, ‘I have it! I have it!
I have it! If he is not in love with Miss Weston you may call me an ass
for the rest of my life.’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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