"Now," she said, when Percy had gone out of the room to fetch something he had forgotten, "I wish to give you a last piece of advice. I give it to you, Miss Ashleigh, as much as I do to Ada, for as you come out under my charge, I consider myself as responsible for you equally. To you, Ada, I say be very careful you do not let your high spirits run away with you; above all, do not become noisy: I know well what your tendency is. This does not apply to you, Miss Ashleigh, for although you have good spirits, I know you are not likely to let them run away with you as Ada is. Do not either of you, I beg, dance more than once, or at most twice with any gentleman. This applies equally to you, Miss Ashleigh, as the heiress to a considerable fortune. It is incumbent on you both to be very careful with whom you dance,—I mean, dance frequently: there is nothing more damaging to a girl than that her name should be mentioned as seen flirting with any but a most eligible party; and as at present you do not know who is who, you cannot be too careful."
Here Percy's return interrupted any further advice which Lady Desborough might have been disposed to have tendered us; and in a few minutes the visitors began to arrive, and my first ball began.
I may here mention, with reference to Lady Desborough's remark about my being an heiress, that Clara Fairthorne had brought the news to school, when Mr. Harmer's intentions with respect to us were publicly announced, and from that time we were generally known there by the nickname of the "heiresses."
CHAPTER IX.
THE OLD STORY.
I never enjoyed myself in my life as much as I did at that ball. Lady Desborough introduced a good many of the first comers to me, and Percy brought up more. He had engaged me for the first waltz, and he presently asked me for the first polka after supper; and my card was soon quite full for the whole evening.
At some times I should have been sorry for this, as one does not like to be obliged to refuse any very eligible looking man who may be introduced to one. Besides, it prevents dancing a second dance with any particularly pleasant partner,—that is, of course, unless one has the coolness to turn out some one already on the list, which at that time I certainly had not.
But that night I preferred having fresh partners every dance. It was all so new to me, and I wanted to see everything; and in this way I was less engaged in interesting conversation, and was able to give more attention to what was going on.
It was a brilliant scene. The élite of London society were there, and very beautiful were many of the faces, and very exquisite the dresses. Not one of them all through was more lovely than Ada, and almost every one of my partners remarked to me how very lovely she was; indeed, she made quite a sensation.