"The one love's arrows darting round,
"The other blushing at the wound!"
Mrs. Sullivan and her eldest daughter hastened to pay their compliments to their company, the one in the language of Cheapside, the other in all the flowers of rhetoric; and the rest of the expected guests soon after arriving, they all proceeded to the dining-room, Mrs. Sullivan insisting on giving Selina "percussion," (for so she termed precedence) to the blushing girl's infinite annoyance, who, never having dined out before, was unaccustomed to take place of the woman whom, of all others, she most respected: however her painful pre-eminence at the head of the table was almost compensated by her aunt sitting next her, and thus hedging her in from the rest of the company.
The dinner—an object of too much consequence to be passed over unnoticed in the present state of society—was evidently dressed by a man cook; but as Mrs. Sullivan had insisted on making her own alterations in the bill of fare, she had put the poor man in a passion; and, as a natural consequence, the whole was a manqué, no unapt model of the family, presenting vulgarity, finery, and high seasoning out of place.
The warmth of Mrs. Sullivan's temperature was considerably increased by her vocal and manual exertions; whilst her son was much puzzled to reconcile the nonchalance he believed fashionable, with the desire he had to show Selina that obsequious attention he deemed judicious. But though his tongue was incessantly employed in Miss Seymour's service, (for the poor girl would have died of a surfeit if she had taken a fourth part of the eatables he pressed on her acceptance,) his eyes were involuntarily attracted to Adelaide, who, amidst the confusion of tongues, was keeping up a seemingly animated conversation with a very handsome young man, the eldest son of Mr. Thornbull, who sat next her. Of this Mr. Webberly did not approve; and therefore gave her every possible interruption, but all in vain. For no sooner did she answer his inquiry, or assent to his request, than she resumed her conversation, which seemed much more to interest her; and, for the first time, he thought the quick succession of smiles, that passed over her countenance when she conversed, did not become her so much as its placid expression when she was silent.
At length Selina heard the welcome sound of "Vill you like any more vine, Miss Seymour?" and this well understood summons relieved her from her place of penance.
Soon after the ladies had retired to the drawing-room, they separated, some adjourning to the music-room, some to the green-house, and Miss Seymour gladly accepted Adelaide's invitation to proceed from it to the garden. Selina had, before dinner was half over, thought Miss Wildenheim "the most delightful girl in the world!" But she was too diffident of her own claims to attention to have sought her acquaintance so immediately; though, with her usual precipitation, she felt already convinced she should love her all her life, if she were never to see her again. "She is too elegant, too clever, to like an unpolished girl like me," thought Selina. But in this she was mistaken; for Adelaide bestowed as much admiration on her untutored charms, as her own more polished graces excited in Miss Seymour's mind, though she manifested her approbation in a more sober manner; for, besides being three years older than Selina, she had, unfortunately, had more opportunity of having youth's first happy feelings chilled by the bitter blasts of capricious fortune.
When Selina found, from Adelaide's expressive manner, that she might say to herself, "She really does like me," her surprise and delight knew no bounds; and, if she had before thought the object of her enthusiasm the most charming of the daughters of Eve, she was now nothing less than an angel. Her pleasure did not escape her new friend's notice; for Selina was too ingenuous to conceal any thing. Adelaide's countenance was illuminated with one of those joyful smiles, which had brightened it in better days, as she mentally exclaimed, "Happy creature!" But she sighed with real sorrow, as she instantaneously recollected the fleeting nature of youthful impressions, "when thought is speech, and speech is truth."
During the time Selina had employed in her own mind to sign and seal an everlasting friendship with her new acquaintance, they visited the pagoda and hermitage, sat under the marquée, where they found the novel which had been Miss Cecilia Webberly's morning study, and had looked in vain for the gold and silver fishes; for Mrs. Sullivan was too fashionable to dine long before sunset, even in the height of summer. Their fruitless search for their aqueous favourites reminded them of the lateness of the hour; and they had begun to retrace their steps towards the house, when a pretty rosy child, about seven years old, with dancing eyes and disordered hair, came skipping up to them. "This sweet child, Miss Seymour," said Adelaide, "is Caroline Sullivan, my dear little companion." Selina kissed the child, partly for its own beauty, partly for the sake of its patroness; and the little urchin, hearing the name of Miss Seymour, said, in an arch tone, "I have a secret for you, Miss Seymour—a great secret." "And what is your great secret, my pretty little love?" asked Selina. "Why, do you know, brother is going to make love to you?—Mama bid him. And he said he would, for he thinks you have a great deal of money; but for all that he says, my dear Adele is handsomer than you—and I think so too—I believe," said the little thing, stopping to look up at them both. The young ladies were so astonished, that at first they had not power to stop the child's harangue, but both coloured scarlet red from offended pride; and, when their eyes met, the picture of the all-conquering hero and his mama rising at once to Selina's mind in the most ludicrous point of view, she burst out into an immoderate fit of laughter, in which Adelaide could not resist joining. The child, from their mirth, thought they were pleased with her observations; and, believing she had said something clever, continued in the same strain; whilst, by grave faces, and knit brows, and remonstrating, they endeavoured in vain to check her volubility.—Car on ne se quérit pas d'un défaut qui plait. "Good Lord! what shall we do?" said Selina, half laughing, half crying; for the little girl, in the exuberance of her mirth, seemed bent on following them into the house, with a repetition of her information, when luckily they thought of diverting her attention; and so taking her one by each arm, they almost carried her completely round the pleasure-ground; and, by chattering and running, succeeded in diverting the channel of her thoughts, and were not a little rejoiced that, on their entrance into the drawing-room, Miss Webberly, in a peremptory tone of "brief authority," ordered the little troublesome urchin to bed.
The ladies were all assembled, and Miss Wildenheim thought it necessary to apologise for their absence; and Selina, immediately walking up to her aunt, excused herself, and wondered she had left her so long, for the advanced state of tea and coffee told her it was late.
When Miss Wildenheim, in reply to some observation addressed to her by Mrs. Temple, entered into general conversation, Selina was as much surprised as delighted by the graceful ease of her manner; and, in the simplicity of her ideas, wondered how she could be so enlivening, and at the same time so elegant. "It is not odd," thought she, "that Lady Eltondale is elegant, for she is so quiet, she has plenty of time to do every thing in the most beautiful manner; but, though she is very elegant, she is not at all entertaining, while Miss Wildenheim is both."