“I am not sure I admire your Lady Fitzhenry so much on nearer view as I did at first sight. She is terribly English; so cold and distant—and I see already she dislikes me for being the reverse; et que je n’ai pas l’honneur de lui plaire.”
What Fitzhenry replied, Emmeline did not hear; and, as it was now late, and that she was wearied both in body and mind, she begged of Pelham to ask for her carriage, desiring him to tell Lady Saville she would send it back for her, if she had not ordered her own.
They crossed the room in silence: poor Emmeline taking one last look of Fitzhenry, as he was still waltzing with Mrs. Osterley.
“That is a spiteful little devil,” said Pelham, who well knew whither Emmeline’s eyes had wandered; “and I again advise you to keep clear of her; she hates both Fitzhenry and me; for, the truth is, she tried to turn both our heads alternately, and succeeded with neither: Fitzhenry had too much good taste to be taken in by any thing so glaring.”
Emmeline made no comment, but sighed deeply. Her sigh was echoed by one close to her; and, turning round, she saw poor Selina, cloaked up to her ears, following her hard-hearted chaperon down the stairs which she had so lately mounted in such glee; the evening to which she had looked forward so long, with so much ecstasy, already over—and having to her been productive of nothing but mortification and disappointment.
“Good night, Lady Fitzhenry,” said she, sadly:—”for you see I am going: but I am sure I don’t care; there is nobody here one knows, and though it is a ball, nobody will dance: it is the oddest thing I ever saw. However, it is very well to come once, just to be able to say one has been at Almacks, for that sounds well; but I declare I think it the stupidest place I ever was at, and I wonder how people can make such a fuss about it.”
The loud welcome cry of “Lady Fitzhenry’s carriage stops the way,” prevented any more of Selina’s peevishness being heard, and Emmeline returned to her solitary home. But harmless, unpresuming, and innocent as she was, in absenting herself, she had left her character behind her; and from that evening, (thanks to Mrs. Osterley,) all London talked of and laughed at the decided affair between Lady Fitzhenry and Mr. Pelham; each narrator telling his own story, and inventing such facts as each found wanting to render it plausible. Emmeline, however, lost nothing in the good opinion of the fashionable world by this report, which was treated, by some, as an excellent joke; by others, as a thing of course; and many of those who thus carelessly discussed the matter, and at once deprived poor Emmeline of her good name, might have ended their remarks, if they had had honest consciences, with Lady Saville’s first words of praise to Emmeline: “She is really quite on a par with ourselves.”
END OF VOL I.
LONDON:
IBOTSON AND PALMER, PRINTERS, SAVOY STREET, STRAND.