“The person that seemed to me to be going best,” I here interposed, filling my glass, “was a lady on a grey horse; a Miss Merlin, I believe, who is staying at the inn at Soakington. A most extraordinary horsewoman!”
The Jovial blushed, though he hid his confusion in a great gulp of Madeira. Rebecca and Jane interchanged looks of considerable meaning, and the former (I think) took up the running.
“How very unfeminine!” said she, turning round to me. “Don’t you think so, Mr. Softly? I’m sure gentlemen must wish ladies anywhere else, when they come out hunting. I think it oughtn’t to be allowed; and this Miss Merlin, you know, rides just like a man.”
“Don’t believe her!” exclaimed the Jovial, in his turn. “I’ve seen her out with our hounds many a time, but never on anything but a side-saddle, in my life.”
Rebecca blushed in her turn. “How can you, James?” said she. “Of course I didn’t mean that. But you’re so infatuated about Miss Merlin, you think she can’t do wrong. And what there is to admire in her, I can’t see, for my part.”
“Why, she does ride beautifully, you know,” put in Jane, apologetically; at least, I suppose it was Jane, as she seemed more tolerant of manly exercises than her sister, and was altogether of a livelier and more attractive style. I couldn’t help thinking, even then, I would give something to see her doing the outside edge backwards.
“Well, but that’s a man’s accomplishment,” replied her sister. “I was speaking more of her good looks. Come, Mr. Softly; give us your honest opinion. Do you think her so very wonderfully beautiful?”
This was obviously a back-hander at James, who, having by this time tackled well to the Madeira, bore it with the utmost philosophy.
I was obliged to confess that, although living in the same hotel, I had never seen her, not thinking it necessary to add my opinion of Justine, nor to dwell on the circumstances under which I had made that sweet little woman’s acquaintance.
“Never seen her!” repeated both ladies in tones of the utmost surprise; but while Rebecca’s emphasis denoted simple astonishment, I was concerned to detect in that of Jane a covert reproach and contempt. What must a young lady of her gifts and acquirements have thought of so recreant a knight as myself? They are all alike, you see—these ladies; repudiating very judiciously, as an established principle, too great diffidence in our sex, and readier far to forgive us when erring in the opposite extreme. The Bissextile, or Leap-year, does not come often enough to allow their taking the initiative as a regular thing; so a backward swain is like a jibbing horse—the very worst description of animal you can drive, either for single or double harness, light or heavy draught.