Faste to those looks are all my fancies tied,
Pleas'de with thy sweetness, angry with thy pride.
PEELE.
Ray.—Ay, 'tis an old saide saying, I have redde
In certaine bokes that love is like to smoke;
But I say rather it is liker fire,
Which kindleth after men have put it out;
Often upon a little breath of ayre.
ANON.
The morning was, as Elizabeth had predicted, bright as a poet's dream, or a poet's waking; but a north wind swept the half-clothed boughs of the trees, and warned all discreet persons to protect themselves from the cold air. Horses and carriages were assembling in front of the house, and the guests were collecting by slow degrees in the drawing-room previous to starting.
Harriet Conway appeared in her habit, which very much became her slender figure. She threw her riding whip and gauntlets into her hat which stood in the window seat, looked round for Margaret, who had become quite a little pet of hers; drew her into the window, examined her dress and praised it; told her how she ought to wear her hair under a hat; looked at her rings and admired her hands, and asked her how it was arranged that she should go to the course. George Gage, who was standing near talking to Mr. Conway, turned round on hearing the question, and said that he hoped Miss Capel would not retract the permission she had almost given him to drive her thither; upon which Hubert announced his intention of calling out his brother, which made everybody laugh except Margaret who was sadly confused. She said in a low voice to Harriet that she heartily wished Bessy would take her, for of all things, she dreaded being driven by Mr. Gage.
"How's that?" asked Harriet suddenly, "are you afraid?"
"No," returned Margaret, "but I—he is quite a stranger to me."
"Do you mind me, then?" asked Harriet.
"No," said Margaret laughing.
"Good," said Harriet, putting on her hat and gloves, "come, we are all ready, and I know Uncle Gage is impatient to be off. I'll manage it."