“I have a message to you from the Speaker, with whom I have been dining,” said Fitzhenry, as if suddenly recollecting his errand, and he drew Pelham aside for a minute. Emmeline then ventured to raise her eyes upon her husband, and could not help, with a sort of melancholy pride, comparing him to those around him, and exulting in his superiority of look, air, and manner. When his conversation with Pelham was over, he again turned towards Emmeline, and again his eyes were rivetted on her.
“You have left off dancing, I think, Lady Fitzhenry,” said he, as if he thought it necessary to say something, and hardly knew what; “I thought you had liked it. Pelham, do you ever dance now?”
“It is some time since I was guilty of any thing so frisky,” he replied. “I should be afraid I might be thought not behaving myself with proper diplomatic gravity; but as for Lady Fitzhenry, I must say that, in her, it is pure laziness, and therefore most reprehensible, for I have myself heard many a humble application made to her during this last half hour.”
“We take to ourselves the right to be fanciful and capricious, you know,” said Emmeline, trying to smile.
“Yes, and caprice is sometimes the only thing women are steady to,” replied Fitzhenry; while an expression of satirical displeasure seemed to curl his handsome lip.
Emmeline felt she no way deserved that severe remark, and indeed hardly thought he ever noticed her enough even to observe the faults she might have. But in his manner, just then, he was altogether so unlike himself, and had so much the appearance of offended ill humour, that she would have thought something particularly disagreeable had just passed between the two friends, except that she saw Pelham was, as indeed he was always, perfectly mild and composed.
At that moment a very pretty woman, dressed in the height of Parisian fashion, came into the room; and, after acknowledging Mr. Pelham with a familiar bow, addressed Fitzhenry.
“How basely you have deserted me, and forgotten our engagement. I have been looking for you every where. The waltz is nearly over.”
“Ten thousand pardons,” said Fitzhenry rather embarrassed: “I am quite ashamed, but really I had entirely forgotten.”
“That does not mend the matter much,” answered she, laughing, and glancing at Emmeline. “You have, I think, already forgotten your foreign gallantry;” and, taking the arm he offered, they both went into the dancing-room.