We think we hear some of our readers enquire, "how were the ladies dressed?" On that point, fair mesdames, we would crave your especial indulgence. We know that is a theme on which you love to dilate; but we (though delighted to gaze upon your charming forms, graced by the alluring symmetry of your well-fitting and becoming attire) confess ourselves as ignorant as babes in the technicalities of habilimentary detail. However, thus much our observations befriended us. We can affirm that the chief characteristics of the costumes of the gentler sex were becoming neatness and chaste simplicity, without that unblushing display which we have so frequently noticed in gay circles; and which, we must confess, does not accord with our exalted idea of female modesty, innocence, and virtue. The manner of our heroines was frank, candid, and gay; without frivolity, affectedness, or coquetry; and their costumes neat and ladylike.
The hand of Eleanor Rainsfield was so much desired in the mazy dance that John sought in vain for an opportunity of soliciting a participation with her in the pleasures of the evening, or even of entering into conversation with her, until she had danced with nearly all the gentlemen in the room. Then, she having been led to a seat near where our despondent hero sat, he seized the occasion to ask her to dance, which she promised to do after obtaining a short rest. During the interval they fell into a sort of desultory conversation; but they were not destined long to enjoy even this intercourse; for Bob Smithers espying the occupation of his "lady-love," hastened to remove her from an influence he in no way relished.
"Eleanor," said he, "I want you to dance with me."
"I am engaged for the next dance, Robert," she replied.
"To whom?" he asked.
"To Mr. Ferguson," she answered.
"Oh, never mind, you'll dance with me," said her lord. "Your engagement with me always ranks in precedence of others; and I am sure Mr. Ferguson will not mind looking for another partner."
"Mr. Ferguson has been waiting until I was disengaged, Robert," said Eleanor, "on purpose to dance with me; so I must keep myself engaged to him for the next dance, but will devote the following one to you."
"Well, as you like," exclaimed Bob Smithers, in none of the most amiable moods; "if you want to dance with Mr. Ferguson you can, but I wanted to dance with you myself;" and, casting a look of intense malignity on the object of his detestation, and one of equal rancour on his affianced, he strode to another part of the room.
Neither look had been lost on the parties to whom they had been directed; in John they caused emotions of no pleasurable nature, whereas Eleanor treated the truculence of Smithers with a calm benignity. The moistened dewdrop, however, that gathered in the corner of her eye, discovered to the anxious and watchful perception of John Ferguson the hidden sorrow that rankled in her breast, and which she strove to smother, dreading its discovery to the world.