For the hundredth time she cast wildly about in her mind as to how she could, now at this present moment, rid herself of the hated disguise, get into her Levantine, get home to her mother’s arms, hide her head forever, and never, no never! look into face of man again!
But Peggy saw no road. Every path seemed barred, save those that would forever damn her in the eyes of foes and friends alike.
“Oh,” cried she in desperation. “How easy ’tis to get into breeches, a coat, a waist-coat, and a wig, but God ha’ mercy! will I ever be able to get out of ’em?”
It is to be put down to the credit of My Lady Peggy’s up-bringing in the country with most times only a lad for her playmate, that now she bore herself with not only a fine ease and grace, but also with as splendid a swagger and daring as any young macaroni that carried a sword.
“An I’m to be a man, I’ll be one!” cried she, “and if Lady Diana ogles, lud! I’ll give as good as she sends. Little him as I love’ll know, ’tis of his sometime Peggy he’ll be jealous!”
So it was with a prodigious fine flutter of her napkin and a mightily impudent twirl of her eye-glass (purchased not two hours since), that Her Ladyship made her bows and kissed the finger-tips of Lady Brookwood’s handsome daughter.
“I am your most grateful, Sir Robin!” cried this one, “and more pleased than I can express to welcome you. I only regret that Lord Brookwood is at Brookwood Hall, and not here to thank you for rescuing his daughter.” And so forth and on, with presentations to a dozen of fine ladies, dowagers and damsels, and a precious lot of fine gentlemen; and it seemed to Peggy, in her simplicity, as if the whole of Mayfair were a-bowing and scraping and making her out a hero,—which indeed was not far off the fact.
Two watched her as she came in on Beau Brummell’s arm. These were Sir Percy and Kennaston; one green with anxiety for Grigson’s return from his errand, jumping at every sound; having left word both at Lark Lane, his coffee-house, as well as at home where he had gone, that Grigson should report to him at once he arrived; the other green with envy of Peggy and any other who neared his divinity, yet afraid and too diffident to approach her closer than with the devouring gaze of his eyes.
“That damned puppy again!” cries Percy, under his breath, as he surveys Peg in her satins. “By Gad, Sir, every lady in the room’s turning spite eyes on t’other, your incomparable Diana included, for fear he won’t stop and pay her a compliment.”