By this time the door was open'd, and Sir James appearing, led me, with his usual politeness, to the company. I was placed by her Ladyship next Miss Winter, whose person I cannot say prejudiced me in her favour, being entirely dispossessed of that winning grace which attracts strangers at a first glance.
After measuring me with her eye from head to toe, she sent my dimensions in a kind of half smile across the room to Lord Baily; then vouchsafed to ask, how long I had been in this part of the world? which question was followed by fifty others, that shewed she laboured under the violent thirst of curiosity; a thirst never to be conquered; for, like dropsical people, the more they drink in, the more it rages.
My answers were such as I always return to the inquisitive.—Yes, Madam;—No, Madam;—very well;—very good;—not certain;—quite undetermin'd.—Finding herself unsuccessful with me, she apply'd to Lady Powis; but alas! poor maiden, she could drain nothing from that fountain; the streams would not flow;—they were driven back, by endeavouring to force them into a wrong channel.
These were not certainly her first defeats, by the clever way of hiding her chagrin:—it is gone whilst she adjusts the flower in her bosom,—or opens and shuts her fan twice.—How can she be mortified by trifles,—when the Lord of her heart,—the sweet, simpering, fair-faced, Lord Baily keeps his eyes incessantly fixed on her, like centinels on guard?—They cannot speak, indeed they cannot, or I should expect them to call out every half hour, "All is well."
I admire Lord and Lady Allen. I say, I admire them: their manners are full of easy freedom, pleasing vivacity.—I cannot admire all the world; I wish I could.—Mr. and Mrs. Winter happen not to suit my taste;—they are a kind of people who look down on every one of middle fortune;—seem to despise ancestry,—yet are always fond of mixing with the great.—Their rise was too sudden;—they jump'd into life all at once.—Such quick transitions require great equality of mind;—the blaze of splendor was too much for their weak eyes;—the flare of surprise is still visible.
It was some time before the conversation became general.—First, and ever to have precedence,—the weather;—next, roads;—then houses,—plantations,—fashions,—dress,—equipage;—and last of all, politics in a thread-bare coat.
About ten minutes before dinner, Lord Darcey joined us, dress'd most magnificently in a suit of olive velvet, embroider'd with gold;—his hair without powder, which became him infinitely.—He certainly appear'd to great advantage:—how could it be otherwise, when in company with that tawdry, gilded piece of clay?—And to sit by him, of all things!—One would really think it had been designed:—some exulted, some look'd mortified at the contrast.—Poor Miss Winter's seat began to grow very uneasy;—she tried every corner, yet could not vary the light in which she saw the two opposites.—Why did she frown on me?—why cast such contemptuous glances every time I turn'd my eye towards her?—Did I recommend the daubed coxcomb;—or represent that her future joys depended on title?—No! it was vanity, the love of grandeur,—that could make her give up fine sense, fine accomplishments, a princely address, and all the noble requisites:—yes, my Lady, such a one, Lord Darcey tells me, she has refused.—Refused, for what? For folly, a total ignorance in the polite arts, and a meaness of manners not to be express'd: yet, I dare say, she thinks, the sweet sounds of my Lady, and your Ladyship is cheaply purchased by such a sacrifice.
When we moved to go into the dining-parlour, Miss Winter bow'd for me to follow Lady Allen and her mother; which after I had declined, Lady Powis took me by the hand, and said, smiling, No, Madam, Miss Warley is one of us.—If so, my Lady—and she swam out of the room with an air I shall never forget.
Lord Darcey took his place at table, next Lord Allen;—I sat opposite, with Miss Winter on my right, and Lord Baily on my left.—Sorry I was, to step between the Lovers; but ceremony required it; so I hope they do not hate me on that account.—Lord Allen has a good deal of archness in his countenance, though not of the ill-natur'd kind.—I don't know how, but every time he look'd across the table I trembled; it seem'd a foreboding of what was to follow.
He admired the venison;—said it was the best he had ever tasted from Sir James's park;—but declared he would challenge him next Monday, if all present would favour him with their company.—Lady Allen seconded the request so warmly, that it was immediately assented to.—