"I answer," I replied very seriously, "Sir William has an undoubted right to act as he pleases. I never have or ever intend to prescribe rules to him; sufficient, I think, to conduct self."
"Bravo!" cried Lord Biddulph, "spoke like a heroine: and I hope my dear Lady Stanley will act as she pleases too."
"I do when I can," I answered.—Then, turning to Lady Anne, "Not to break in on your amusement," I continued, "will you give me leave to wait on you to Brook-street? you know you have promised to sup with me."
"Most chearfully," said she;—"but will you not ask the beaux to attend us?"
Lord Biddulph said, he was most unfortunately engaged to Lady D—'s route. The Baron refused, as if he wished to be intreated. Lady Anne would take no denial; and, when I assured him his company would give me pleasure, he consented.
I was handed to the coach by his Lordship, who took that opportunity of condemning Sir William's want of taste; and lavishing the utmost encomiums on your Julia—with whom they passed as nothing. If Sir William is unfaithful, Lord Biddulph is not the man to reconcile me to the sex. I feel his motives in too glaring colours. No, the soft timidity of Ton-hausen, which, while it indicates the profoundest respect, still betrays the utmost tenderness—he it is alone who could restore the character of mankind, and raise it again in my estimation. But what have I said? Dear Louisa, I blush at having discovered to you, that I am, past all doubt, the object of the Baron's tender sentiments. Ah! can I mistake those glances, which modest reserve and deference urge him to correct? Yet fear me not. I am married. My vows are registered in the book of heaven; and as, by their irreversible decree, I am bound to honour and obey my husband, so will I strive to love him, and him alone; though I have long since ceased to be the object of his? Of what consequence, however, is that? I am indissolubly united to him; he was the man of my choice—to say he was the first man I almost ever saw—and to plead my youth and inexperience—oh! what does that avail? Nor does his neglect justify the least on my part.
"For man the lawless libertine may rove."
But this is a strange digression. The Baron accompanied us to supper. During our repast, Lady Anne made a thousand sallies to divert us. My mind, however, seemed that night infected by the demon of despair. I could not be chearful—and yet, I am sure, I was not jealous of this Lucy Gardiner. Melancholy was contagious: Ton-hausen caught it—I observed him sometimes heave a suppressed sigh. Lady Anne was determined to dissipate the gloom which inveloped us, and began drawing, with her satirical pen, the characters of her acquaintance.
"Baron," said she, "did you not observe Lord P—, with his round unthinking face—how assiduous he was to Miss W——, complimenting her on the brilliancy of her complexion, though he knows she wore more rouge than almost any woman of quality—extolling her forest of hair, when most likely he saw it this morning brought in a band-box—and celebrating the pearly whiteness of her teeth, when he was present at their transplanting? But he is not a slave to propriety, or even common sense. No, dear creature, he has a soul above it. But did you not take notice of Lady L——, how she ogled Capt. F. when her booby Lord turned his head aside? What a ridiculous fop is that! The most glaring proofs will not convince him of his wife's infidelity. 'Captain F.' said he to me yesterday at court; 'Captain F. I assure you, Lady Anne, is a great favourite with me.' 'It is a family partiality,' said I; 'Lady L. seems to have no aversion to him.' 'Ah, there you mistake, fair Lady. I want my Lady to have the same affection for him I have. He has done all he can to please her, and yet she does not seem satisfied with him.' 'Unconscionable!' cried I, 'why then she is never to be satisfied.' 'Why so I say; but it proceeds from the violence of her attachment to me. Oh! Lady Anne, she is the most virtuous and discreetest Lady. I should be the happiest man in the world, if she would but shew a little more consideration to my friend.' I think it a pity he does not know his happiness, as I have not the least doubt of F. and her Ladyship having a pretty good understanding together." Thus was the thoughtless creature running on unheeded by either of us, when her harangue was interrupted by an alarming accident happening to me. I had sat some time, leaning my head on my hand; though, God knows! paying very little attention to Lady Anne's sketches, when some of the superfluous ornaments of my head-dress, coming rather too near the candle, caught fire, and the whole farrago of ribbands, lace, and gew-gaws, were instantly in flames. I shrieked out in the utmost terror, and should have been a very great sufferer—perhaps been burnt to death—had not the Baron had the presence of mind to roll my head, flames and all, up in my shawl, which fortunately hung on the back of my chair; and, by such precaution, preserved the capitol. How ridiculous are the fashions, which render us liable to such accidents! My fright, however, proved more than the damage sustained. When the flames were extinguished, I thought Lady Anne would have expired with mirth; owing to the disastrous figure I made with my singed feathers, &c. The whimsical distress of the heroine of the Election Ball presented itself to her imagination; and the pale face of the affrighted Baron, during the conflagration, heightened the picture. "Even such a man," she cried, "so dead in look, so woe-be-gone! Excuse me, dear Ton-hausen—The danger is over now. I must indulge my risible faculties."
"I will most readily join with your Ladyship," answered the Baron, "as my joy is in proportion to what were my apprehensions. But I must condemn a fashion which is so injurious to the safety of the ladies."