"Fewer at a time," said Lady Tilney, "would be more agreeable, I should think."
"Perhaps so, for habitual private society; but then that is quite another affair: all things are good in their way, and in their proper season and measure." Lady Tilney was mortified at this very rational distinction of the indocile Lord, but went on to say, "At least you will allow that a circle more choisie is preferable—and one comes to this sort of mob only as a kind of disagreeable duty."—"Duty! that is quite a new idea of duty to me—but I am happy to be taught by so fair an instructress." As he spoke, Lord Arlingford's grave countenance (for it was a countenance of gravity for so young a man) relaxed into something like vivacity; and Lady Tilney, profiting by the momentary gleam of expression, requested him to assist her through the crowd, in order that she might speak to the Duchess of Hermanton.
"You will come, will you not, Lady Ellersby?" turning her head over her shoulder as she spoke.
"No (for at this moment the Duke of Mercington was coming towards her), I have already seen the Duchess." Lady Tilney would then have lingered, glad to have exchanged the arm on which she leant for that of the man of still higher rank; but the Duke only making her the acknowledgment of a familiar nod, offered his arm to Lady Ellersby, and as her friend walked away in a contrary direction, Lady Tilney, mortified, bit her lip, and was obliged to proceed.
The crowd in the door-way soon stopped her progress, and turning to her companion, she observed,
"I wonder how many private couriers Lady Borrowdale keeps in pay, to bring over the newest fashions from Paris. Have you seen her to-night? did you ever behold any thing like the magnificence of her gown?"—"I think," replied Lord Arlingford, "that she is a very fine-looking person, and in her youth must have been perfectly beautiful; but I did not observe her gown." The subject seemed to inspire Lord Arlingford, who broke through the usual briefness of his sentences as he continued, "And her manner, I think, is excellent; there is so much dignity in it, united with so much courtesy; and she is never, I am told, capricious, or forgetful of good-breeding."
"Why, my dear Lord Arlingford, this is an oration—you are quite eloquent! But you cannot really like that old-fashioned manière of curtseying."
"Indeed I am serious; I like it very much: and if I were to point out the person whose manners I should like to see any one I loved adopt, in public at least—for I have not the honour of her intimate acquaintance—it would be Lady Borrowdale's."
"How singular you are! Really, if you entertain such opinions as these, we must expel you from our circle. But if you are determined to be extraordinary, I suppose you will tell me that you cannot bear any thing that is younger or more modern."