Mabel sighed, for she knew how impossible it was to govern Lucy, when bent on having her own way.
She perceived, also, for the first time, that Hargrave was either out of spirits, or in one of his obstinate humours; and, when Caroline joined them, which she did almost immediately, he broke from them, and retreated to a group of gentlemen near the door-way, with whom he had spent the greater part of the evening, much to his fair cousin's chagrin. Perhaps, an incautious remark of Mrs. Villars, on his intimacy with her daughter, which, possibly, he had overheard, might have led to this inconsistent conduct; for he had ably resisted all her little plans to bring them together.
Mrs. Villars was sensibly annoyed; and Caroline, who, in the course of the evening, had overheard many remarks in praise of Mabel's beauty, and had been repeatedly called upon to join in praising her—felt enraged with her, as, what she termed, the under-ground cause of her failure.
In vain Selina looked all that was fascinating, and smiled all that was good-natured—in vain Maria jested—the spirits of the hostess were infectious, and soon communicated their influence to her guests, who, one by one, took their leave, and hurried away, sooner, perhaps, than they might have done.
The family party were once more alone—and when the last guest had been civilly disposed of, stood regarding each other in bewildered silence, surrounded by failing wax-lights, and the ruins of gay bouquets; with the echoes of the now silent music still sounding, in fancy, in their ears.
Hargrave, without waiting to discuss the evening, during which he knew he had taken so unpopular a part, bade them, hastily, good night, and hurried down stairs, where he encountered Clair, who, as if spell-bound, had lingered till the last, and now busied himself in a forlorn search for his hat.
Hargrave offered to lend him one, and took him into his room. They found the fire burning so brightly, and all looking so snug, that they were tempted to remain talking over it, till the lost hat was forgotten.
Mabel, anxious to offer a word of counsel, proposed to accompany Lucy to her room, to assist her in untwisting her hair; but this Lucy declined coolly and evasively, and she too, departed, feeling a depression arising from the lateness of the hour, and an evening spent in heated and noisy rooms, with which she was hitherto unacquainted; and it was some time before she could shut out the moving panorama, which perpetually presented itself, and close her eyes in sleep.
In order to make arrangements for the display shewn that evening, the whole house had been overturned; but, in the amusement of the preparations, none had felt the many little inconveniences to which they had all laughingly subjected themselves; but now the scene was changed. Nothing appeared more wretched to the sisters than all being obliged to occupy the same sleeping apartment, and submit to all the little acts of self-denial, which good-nature would only have discovered to be amused with. Wearied, fatigued, and disappointed, few felt so chagrined as Mrs. Villars, when, after seeing to some necessary household duties, and waiting till her kitchen was cleared of half intoxicated waiters, she retired to her room, anxious to shut out the unpleasant thoughts of the evening in sleep. She was not therefore very agreeably surprised to find her eldest daughter waiting for her.
It was with difficulty that Caroline had suppressed her temper till that minute; and, though it was already morning, she felt it impossible to retire to rest without first venting it upon her indulgent parent, whom she regarded, (as most spoilt children do their parents), as the malignant cause of all her sufferings, real or imaginary. Mrs. Villars would willingly have escaped, feeling herself too distressed, and too tired to frame those excuses and cunning falsehoods which had been so often applied, to heal the wounds of an acrimonious temper; but it was in vain; for Caroline indignantly flinging herself down into a chair; exclaimed—