"Mrs. Maxwell Dorset, my dear!" said Harriet enforcing her words with a tap of her fan.
Margaret's face expressed, in a slight degree, her unspeakable surprise at this piece of news.
"A fact, my dear," resumed Harriet. "I am going to ask George to introduce me to her."
Margaret caught her friend by the arm as she was pressing forward.
"Harriet! you cannot be in earnest," she exclaimed, "you must be jesting—such a character. I am sure no friend of yours would present you."
"What a very innocent little soul!" said Harriet, drawing back, with a touch of scorn in her voice. "The lady's character is as fair as yours or mine. You may impeach her taste, Margaret, but not her virtue, for there stands her guarantee—her husband, good easy man! She merely takes presents of value from her admirers, instead of bouquets, like you and I. 'Men's eyes were made to gaze,' ma mie, and a beautiful woman may be admired, I hope, without being sent to Coventry for the offence."
"But after all that has past, Harriet," said Margaret, imploringly, "indeed, it would be very wrong to ask Mr. Gage."
"My dear, let 'bygones be bygones,'" said Harriet with an air of decision. "I wish Mr. Gage you would introduce me to that lady opposite—Mrs. Maxwell Dorset. I have a great inclination to become ac quainted with her." Harriet spoke with unusual suavity of manner.
Mr. Gage raised his eyebrows and looked at her for a moment with astonishment, and then without losing his self-possession, as she had hoped, he replied that he very much regretted it was entirely out of his power to comply with Miss Conway's request.
Harriet's eyes flashed fire; she turned away and went back to the ball-room, where she directly engaged Margaret to dance with the Conde de F—— who was still in attendance upon her, and then after looking round on every side for some means of annoyance, she said calmly as if to herself, "I shall dance with Sir Hawarth Fane when he comes to ask me."