“I shall dance whatever dances I like, as I have always done,” said Marian, with some little asperity in her tone.
“Not you; or if you do, you’ll lose your promotion. You’ll never live to be my Lady Rue. And what will Graham say? You know you’ve given him half a promise.”
“That’s not true, Julia;—I never gave him the tenth part of a promise.”
“Well, he says so;” and then the words between the young ladies became a little more angry. But, nevertheless, in due time they came forth with faces smiling as usual, with their hair properly brushed, and without any signs of warfare.
But Marian had to stand another attack before the business of the evening commenced, and this was from no less doughty an antagonist than her aunt, Miss Jack. Miss Jack soon found that Maurice had not kept his threat of going home; and though she did not absolutely learn from him that he had gone so far towards perfecting her dearest hopes as to make a formal offer to Marian, nevertheless she did gather that things were fast that way tending. If only this dancing were over! she said to herself, dreading the unnumbered waltzes with Ewing, and the violent polkas with Graham. So Miss Jack resolved to say one word to Marian—“A wise word in good season,” said Miss Jack to herself, “how sweet a thing it is.”
“Marian,” said she. “Step here a moment, I want to say a word to you.”
“Yes, aunt Sarah,” said Marian, following her aunt into a corner, not quite in the best humour in the world; for she had a dread of some further interference.
“Are you going to dance with Maurice to-night?”
“Yes, I believe so,—the first quadrille.”
“Well, what I was going to say is this. I don’t want you to dance many quick dances to-night, for a reason I have;—that is, not a great many.”