“Oh! she is a great deal worse—her cold has got into her eye, and it is all shot up.”
Then turning full upon a lady[D] who sat near, radiant with youth and beauty, sparkling with wit and genuine humor:
[D] A niece of James Fenimore Cooper.
“Oh! Mrs. Beall,”[[23]] he began, “what a beautiful gown you have got on, and how handsome you do look! I declare you’re the prettiest woman in the room, and dance the handsomest.”
“Indeed, Mr. A——,” replied she, suppressing her love of fun and assuming a demure look, “I am afraid you flatter me.”
“No, I don’t—I’m in earnest. I’ve just come to ask you to dance.”
Such was the penalty of being too charming. Poor A——, in a cotillion, was not the least enlivening part of this evening’s entertainment.