“Yes: but I did not think she was in earnest.”
“How little you know of Caroline,” replied Rosamond, “if you imagine that either in trifles, or in matters of consequence, she would say one thing and do another.”
“I feel,” said Buckhurst, colouring, “what that emphasis on she means. But I did not think you would have reproached me so severely. I thought my cousin Rosamond was my friend.”
“So I am—but not a friend to your faults.”
“Surely it is no great crime in a young man to like going to a ball better than going to the Temple! But I am really concerned,” continued Buckhurst, “that I have deprived Miss Caroline Percy of the pleasure of being here to-night—and this was to have been her first appearance in public—I am quite sorry.”
“Caroline is not at all impatient to appear in public; and as to the pleasure of being at a ball, it costs her little to sacrifice that, or any pleasure of her own, for the advantage of others.”
“When Miss Caroline Percy said something about my falling in her father’s opinion for such a trifle, I could not guess that she was serious.”
“She does not,” replied Rosamond, “think it a trifle to break a promise.”
Buckhurst looked at his watch. “The mail-coach will pass through this town in an hour. It shall take me to London—Good bye—I will not stay another moment—I am gone. I wish I had gone yesterday—pray, my dear, good Rosamond, say so for me to Caroline.”
At this moment a beautiful young lady, attended by a large party, entered the ball-room. Buckhurst stopped to inquire who she was.