Here! said Charles, as Guy swung himself down with a bound, his face much redder than sun and work had already made it, heres another wild Irisher for you.
Sir Guy MorvilleLady Eveleen de Courcy, began Laura; but Lady Eveleen cut her short, frankly holding out her hand, and saying, You are almost a cousin, you know. Oh, dont leave off. Do give me something to do. That hammer, Amy, prayLaura, dont you remember how dearly I always loved hammering?
How did you come? said Laura.
With papatis his visit to Sir Guy. No, dont go, as Guy began to look for his coat; he is only impending. He is gone on to Broadstone, but he dropped me here, and will pick me up on his way back. Cant you give me something to do on the top of that ladder? I should like it mightily; it looks so cool and airy.
How can you, Eva? whispered Laura, reprovingly; but Lady Eveleen only shook her head at her, and declaring she saw a dangerous nail sticking out, began to hammer it in with such good will, that Charles stopped his ears, and told her it was worse than her tongue. Go on about the ball, do.
Oh, said she earnestly, do you think there is any hope of Captain Morvilles coming?
Oh yes, said Laura.
I am so glad! That is what papa is gone to Broadstone about. Maurice said he had given him such a lecture, that he would not be the one to think of asking him, and papa must do it himself; for if he sets his face against it, it will spoil it all.
You may make your mind easy, said Charles, the captain is lenient, and looks on the ball as a mere development of Irish nature. He has been consoling Guy on the difficulties of dancing.
Cant you dance? said Lady Eveleen, looking at him with compassion.
Such is my melancholy ignorance, said Guy.
We have been talking of teaching him, said Laura.
Talk! will that do it? cried Lady Eveleen, springing up. We will begin this moment. Come out on the lawn. Here, Charles, wheeling him along, No, thank you, I like it, as Guy was going to help her. There, Charles, be fiddler go on, tum-tum, tee! thatll do. Amy, Laura, be ladies. Im the other gentleman, and she stuck on her hat in military style, giving it a cock. She actually set them quadrilling in spite of adverse circumstances, dancing better, in her habit, than most people without one, till Lord Kilcoran arrived.
While he was making his visit, she walked a little apart, arm-in-arm with Laura. I like him very much, she said; he looks up to anything. I had heard so much of his steadiness, that it is a great relief to my mind to see him so unlike his cousin.
Eveleen!
No disparagement to the captain, only I am so dreadfully afraid of him. I am sure he thinks me such an unmitigated goose. Now, doesnt he?
If you would but take the right way to make him think otherwise, dear Eva, and show the sense you really have.
That is just what my fear of him wont let me do. I would not for the world let him guess it, so there is nothing for it but sauciness to cover ones weakness. I cant be sensible with those that wont give me credit for it. But youll mind and teach Sir Guy to dance; he has so much spring in him, he deserves to be an Irishman.
In compliance with this injunction, there used to be a clearance every evening; Charles turned into the bay window out of the way, Mrs. Edmonstone at the piano, and the rest figuring away, the partnerless one, called puss in the corner, being generally Amabel, while Charlotte, disdaining them all the time, used to try to make them imitate her dancing-masters graces, causing her father to perform such caricatures of them, as to overpower all with laughing.
Mr. Edmonstone was half Irish. His mother, Lady Mabel Edmonstone, had never thoroughly taken root in England, and on his marriage, had gone with her daughter to live near her old home in Ireland. The present Earl of Kilcoran was her nephew, and a very close intercourse had always been kept up between the families, Mr. and Mrs. Edmonstone being adopted by their younger cousins as uncle and aunt, and always so called.
The house at Allonby was in such confusion, that the family there expected to dine nowhere on the day of the ball, and the Hollywell party thought it prudent to secure their dinner at home, with Philip and Mary Ross, who were to go with them.
By special desire, Philip wore his uniform; and while the sisters were dressing Charlotte gave him a thorough examination, which led to a talk between him and Mary on accoutrements and weapons in general; but while deep in some points of chivalrous armour, Marys waist was pinched by two mischievous hands, and a little fluttering white figure danced around her.
O Amy! what do you want with me?
Come and be trimmed up, said Amy.
I thought you told me I was to have no trouble. I am dressed, said Mary, looking complacently at her full folds of white muslin.
No more you shall; but you promised to do as you were told. And Amy fluttered away with her.
Do you remember, said Philip, the comparison of Rose Flammock dragging off her father, to a little carved cherub trying to uplift a solid monumental hero?
O, I must tell Mary! cried Charlotte; but Philip stopped her, with orders not to be a silly child.
It is a pity Amy should not have her share, said Charles.
The comparison to a Dutch cherub? asked Guy.
She is more after the pattern of the little things on little wings, in your blotting-book, said Charles; certain lines in the predicament of the cherubs of paintersheads et proeterea nihil.
O Guy, do you write verses? cried Charlotte.
Some nonsense, muttered Guy, out of countenance; I thought I had made away with that rubbish; where is it?
In the blotting-book in my room, said Charles. I must explain that the book is my property, and was put into your room when mamma was beautifying it for you, as new and strange company. On its return to me, at your departure, I discovered a great accession of blots and sailing vessels, beside the aforesaid little things.
I shall resume my own property, said Guy, departing in haste.
Charlotte ran after him, to beg for a sight of it; and Philip asked Charles what it was like.
A romantic incident, said Charles, just fit for a novel. A Petrarch leaving his poems about in blotting-books.
Charles used the word Petrarch to stand for a poet, not thinking what ladys name he suggested; and he was surprised at the severity of Philips tone as he inquired, Do you mean anything, or do you not?
Perceiving with delight that he had perplexed and teased, he rejoiced in keeping up the mystery:
Eh? is it a tender subject with you, too?
Philip rose, and standing over him, said, in a low but impressive tone:
I cannot tell whether you are trifling or not; but you are no boy now, and can surely see that this is no subject to be played with. If you are concealing anything you have discovered, you have a great deal to answer for. I can hardly imagine anything more unfortunate than that he should become attached to either of your sisters.
Et pourquoi? asked Charles, coolly.
I see, said Philip, retreating to his chair, and speaking with great composure, I did you injustice by speaking seriously. Then, as his uncle came into the room, he asked some indifferent question, without betraying a shade of annoyance.
Charles meanwhile congratulated himself on his valour in keeping his counsel, in spite of so tall a man in scarlet; but he was much nettled at the last speech, for if a real attachment to his sister had been in question, he would never have trifled about it. Keenly alive to his cousins injustice, he rejoiced in having provoked and mystified the impassable, though he little knew the storm he had raised beneath that serene exterior of perfect self-command.