“I’ve thought better of that, and I cannot tell it to you. But this much I tell you positively, Mrs. Falconer, that you will lose your labour, if you speculate upon the Count for Georgiana.” “Is he married? Answer me that question, and I will ask no more--and that I have a right to ask.” “No--not married; but I can tell no more. Only let me beg that you will just put all love notions out of Georgiana’s head and your own, or you’ll make the girl ridiculous, and expose yourself, my dear. But, on the other hand, let there be no deficiency of attention to the count, for all our civilities to him will pay a hundred fold, and, perhaps, sooner than you expect--for he may be prime minister and prime favourite at Cunningham’s court in a month, and of course will have it in his power to forward Cunningham’s interests. That is what I look to, Mrs. Falconer; for I am long-sighted in my views, as you will find.” “Well, time will show. I am glad you tell me he positively is not married,” concluded Mrs. Falconer: “as to the rest, we shall see.” CHAPTER XXVI. The evening appointed for Mrs. Falconer’s ball at length arrived; and all the neighbouring gentry assembled at Falconer-court. They were received by Mrs. Falconer in a splendid saloon, newly furnished for this occasion, which displayed in its decorations the utmost perfection of modern taste and magnificence. Mrs. Falconer was fitted, both by art and nature, to adorn a ball-room, and conduct a ball. With that ease of manner which a perfect knowledge of the world and long practice alone can give, she floated round the circle, conscious that she was in her element. Her eye, with one glance, seemed to pervade the whole assembly; her ear divided itself amongst a multitude of voices; and her attention diffused itself over all with equal grace. Yet that attention, universal as it seemed, was nicely discriminative. Mistress of the art of pleasing, and perfectly acquainted with all the shades of politeness, she knew how to dispose them so as to conceal their boundaries, and even their gradation, from all but the most skilful observers. They might, indeed, have formed, from Mrs. Falconer’s reception of each of her guests, an exact estimate of their rank, fashion, and consequence in the world; for by these standards she regulated her opinion, and measured her regard. Every one present knew this to be her theory, and observed it to be her practice towards others; but each flattered themselves by turns that they discovered in her manner a personal exception in their own favour. In the turn of her countenance, the tone of her voice, her smile or her anxiety, in her distant respect or her affectionate familiarity, some distinction was discerned peculiar to each individual.