She was otherwise splendidly attired; and, in truth, looked superb. The cousin of more modest grace and means, though pretty, seemed as nothing beside her.
Mrs Girdwood had made a mistake—in coming in too early. It is true there were fashionable people already in the room. But these were the “organisers” of the entertainment; who, backed by a sort of semi-official authority, had gathered in little groups over the floor, scanning across fans, or through eye-glasses, the dancers as they came in.
Through these the Girdwoods had to run the gauntlet—as they made their way to the upper end of the room.
They did so with success, though not without being aware of some supercilious glances, accompanied by whispered words that, if heard, might have somewhat disconcerted them.
It was the second Newport ball—“hops” count for nothing—at which Mrs Girdwood and her girls had shown themselves.
The first had not given great satisfaction—more especially to Julia.
But there was a better prospect now. Mrs Girdwood had entered, with a confidence based on the conversation she had just held with the distinguished incognito, Mr Swinton.
She had seen this gentleman during the day: for, as already known, he had not shut himself up in his room. She was sufficiently discerning to see that he was possessed of a fine face and figure. His hair, too—of the most aristocratic kind! How could it be otherwise? She alone knew the reason—she and her daughter; to whom she had, of course, communicated the secret of her discovery. A bit of broken promise that need not be severely criticised.
She knew of my lord’s late arrival—from Canada he had told her—though he had paid a flying visit to New York.
She hoped no one in the ball-room would recognise him—at least not till after she had paraded him with her own party, and could assume the seeming of his introducer.