Mrs. Dorriman Volume Iii Part 18

Sir Albert coloured, and said,

"It is pleasant when a character we admire is consistent."

"Margaret is very consistent."

"She is everything a high-minded woman should be," he answered, earnestly; "I am quite sure we agree in our ideas of her."

"Perhaps we do; but you express it better than I do: and my sister is too good for _me_. I admire her, but she is so far above me that there is not full sympathy between us."

"But there might be," he said, in his quiet voice; "to live with some one having a high aim must help one."

"It does not help me," said Grace, sharply, but with an accent of pain in her voice; throwing off any feeling weighing with her she added, in a laughing tone, "It gives me a crick in my neck."

She puzzled him. It was painful to him to see her so delicate and thinking of nothing but amus.e.m.e.nt, but he could not judge; and through the flippant tone broke so much real feeling that he knew she spoke much more lightly than she felt. She was Margaret's sister, and he would do his utmost for her amus.e.m.e.nt. Instead of leaving London as he had intended doing, he would remain and go to this ball and to others, and do his utmost to enable her to enjoy it.

The d.u.c.h.ess's card and the invitation were handed to Lady Lyons; and her first idea was that it was a mistake. Grace interposed.

"It is all right, Lady Lyons; of course the d.u.c.h.ess could not ask me without you, and I know some of her family."

Lady Lyons was most deeply impressed.

"My dear! I never was in the same room with a d.u.c.h.ess before; it is very delightful."

"l do not suppose she is different from other people," said Grace, indifferently.

"I hope it is not a case of a new gown--I really cannot afford it," and Lady Lyons looked really troubled.

"As I am dragging you to the party, I will find the gown," said Grace, laughing; "leave it to me."

This card was not the only one that came on that and the following days, and Grace was quite enchanted, though she professed to be prepared for this, and any thing else that might befall her.

Lady Lyons was not quite happy. She was by nature indolent, and she was easily fatigued. Women who a.s.sume the habits of an invalid, soon become invalids in reality. She loved going to bed at nine o'clock and being read to sleep; indeed, with a vague idea that Grace intended to make herself useful to her, she had said something about the reading, and the peculiarities of her maid's p.r.o.nunciation, but Grace was too wise to begin by doing anything that might be a tax upon her in future, and she laughed the idea to scorn--"besides," she added, and with truth, "with my delicate chest, the exertion would be very bad for me."

But, as Lady Lyons loved going to bed early, the prospect of being out of it for an indefinite number of hours was not amusing; still the thoughts of seeing so many people, known only through the newspapers, sustained her.

She gave many sighs, however, in private; Grace half thought of persuading her to go to bed early in the afternoon, but for a well-founded conviction that, if she did, she would in all probability not get up again; but she did get her to drink strong coffee, and that, and the sight of her new dress, kept her comfortably awake.

Grace appeared, radiant, her inexperience making her punctual. She had a very simple white gown, and looked well.

When they arrived they found themselves very nearly the first, and quite the first of the strangers asked.

Lady Lyons looked about for the great lady and could not see her. At that moment a kind little old lady held out her hand--asked the black and white gentleman doubling himself in two before her to repeat the names, and Lady Lyons and Miss Withers was the result shouted into her Grace's deaf ears.

Grace was half annoyed and half amused. She went to a sofa near, and sat down watching the arrivals, and being entertained by the talk going on between a plain clever looking girl, with a quant.i.ty of red hair, and some older girls, who stood caressing their elbows in the doorway very affectionately.

"The dear d.u.c.h.ess has a funnier mixture than ever, to-night, apparently," said the eldest maiden, who had on a crushed looking dress, and who used an eyegla.s.s very freely when she neglected her elbows for a moment.

"Yes, dear old thing! she is so kind-hearted, she never can say no. You cannot conceive anything so funny as the mob coming to-night."

"What makes her do it?"

"Good-nature; she says people like to come because she has a big house, and can give them a good supper, and why should she not?" and the girl laughed.

"She is rather a trial in some things. You have no idea how young men fly her. She is so sorry for plain girls that she marches them up, whether they like it or not, and introduces them straight off. I a.s.sure you she has carried off my pet partners under my very eyes, and made them dance with lamp-posts and billiard-b.a.l.l.s."

"My dear," whispered Lady Lyons in a very discreet whisper, "what does she mean by that? How can a man dance with----?"

"Oh! do you really not understand?" said Grace, impatiently; "tall girls and very short ones."

"Oh!" and Lady Lyons drew a very long breath.

No band, no music, and hardly any men. It was going to be a very queer ball, Grace thought. An hour and a half pa.s.sed in this way. As a rule, people wore gowns that had seen the brunt of the season--no one was very smart except as regarded jewels. A great many people had beautiful diamonds on, and some had good lace, but the majority, knowing what a crowd there would be, had left lace at home.

The band arrived and began playing two or three bars of well-known valses and then stopping. Then, all at once, there was a sudden stream of people, the rooms filled all at once, and dancing began. But only in a limited s.p.a.ce; it began all over the large room, three or four circles beginning at once.

The sound of the music, the sight of others doing what she would like to do, filled Grace with despair. She did not know a soul, and n.o.body looked at her or noticed her in any way. Dance after dance went on, and the girl felt really forlorn--tears of vexation rose in her eyes and nearly overflowed.

Lady Lyons fidgeted.

"I think the d.u.c.h.ess might find you a partner," she said, huffily; "and what an uncomfortable sofa! I wish for my part that I was safe at home again."

And Grace very nearly said,

"So do I!"

A funny looking little man, with curiously small eyes and a big head, pa.s.sed and re-pa.s.sed, looking along the benches, sliding behind the crowd, which seemed to increase every moment. As he pa.s.sed he saw Grace's wistful eyes, and he went on.

Returning, he was accompanied by a tall fine looking, middle-aged man; they approached, and her heart beat high with hope; this little man was some relation, and he had found her a partner.

Delightful delusion born to be dispelled. The tall man bowed to Lady Lyons, and then said,

"Her Grace has asked me to introduce Mr. Bott to you and your niece; he is anxious to persuade her to try this valse;" and without seeing Grace (unless, as she thought angrily, he could see her without looking at her) he bowed himself away again.

Grace's mortification knew no bounds. To make her first public appearance dancing with this peculiar looking man was very terrible to her, but to sit for a whole evening behind the backs (and very ample backs) of sundry dowagers, who either preferred standing or could find no seats to their liking, seemed the only other alternative, and still more intolerable to her.

She rose and moved with him, a little surprised at the way he glided through the dense crowd, making room for her behind him.

She had been considered at school a perfect dancer, but dancing well with mankind requires practice which she had never had, and this little man danced abominably. He had all possible defects, and did as nearly as he could every single thing he ought not to have done.

He could not steer. He had no confidence, and he got out of n.o.body's way. Grace's ears got red and tingled, and her whole face flushed with wounded vanity.

After two or three struggles, in which they were ignominiously worsted, she stopped and gazed at the soft, gliding motion of happier girls, with a feeling of anger and desperation.

Then coming towards her, she saw a couple moving with an inexpressibly graceful air, and recognised Sir Albert Gerald.

Forgetful of everything, but that she saw at last one face she knew, she stepped forward and p.r.o.nounced his name.

Sir Albert laughingly bowed and swung on without stopping.