Anne answered at once, “It is worldly.”
“Not half so worldly as driving in a carriage with fine horses, and liveries, and arms, and servants, and all,” said Rosamond from her comfortable corner, nestling under Miles’s racoon-skin rug; “I wonder you can do that!”
“The carriage is not mine,” said Anne.
“The worldliness would be in sacrificing a duty to the luxury and ostentation of keeping one,” said Julius. “For instance, if I considered it due to my lady in the corner there to come out in this style, and put down a curate and a few such trifles with that object. To my mind, balls stand on the same ground; they are innocent as long as nothing right is given up for them.”
“You would not dance?” said Anne.
“Wouldn’t he?” said Rosamond. “I’ve seen him. It was at St. Awdry’s at a Christmas party, in our courting days. No, it wasn’t with me. Oh no! That was the cruel cut! It was with little Miss Marks, whose father had just risen from the ranks. Such a figure she was, enough to set your teeth on edge; when, behold! this reverend minister extracts her from the wall-flowers, and goes through the Lancers with her in first-rate style, I assure you. It had such an effect, do you know, that what does my father do but go and ask her next; and I heard an old lady remarking that there were only two gentlemen in the room, Mr. Charnock and Lord Rathforlane. So you see it was all worldliness after all, Anne.”
“I suppose it was good-nature,” said Anne.
“Indignation, I fancy,” said Julius.
“Now, was he very wicked for it, Anne?”
“N—no, if dancing be not wrong.”