“Did you never see my sister before?” replied Colonel Hauton—“Oh! I must introduce you, and you shall dance with her.”
“You do me a great deal of honour—I shall be very happy—that is, I should be extremely happy—only unfortunately I am under a necessity of setting off immediately for London—I’m afraid I shall be late for the mail—Good night.”
Buckhurst made an effort, as he spoke, to pass on; but Colonel Hauton bursting into one of his horse laughs, held him fast by the arm, swore he must be drunk, for that he did not know what he was saying or doing.
Commissioner Falconer, who now came up, whispered to Buckhurst, “Are you mad? You can’t refuse—you’ll affront for ever!”
“I can’t help it,” said Buckhurst: “I’m sorry for it—I cannot help it.”
He still kept on his way towards the door.
“But,” expostulated the commissioner, following him out, “you can surely stay, be introduced, and pay your compliments to the young lady—you are time enough for the mail. Don’t affront people for nothing, who may be of the greatest use to you.”
“But, my dear father, I don’t want people to be of use to me.”
“Well, at any rate turn back just to see what a charming creature Miss Hauton is. Such an entrée! So much the air of a woman of fashion! every eye riveted—the whole room in admiration of her!”
“I did not see any thing remarkable about her,” said Buckhurst, turning back to look at her again. “If you think I should affront—I would not really affront Hauton, who has always been so civil to me—I’ll go and be introduced and pay my compliments, since you say it is necessary; but I shall not stay five minutes.”