The night of the ball arrived at last. The stables in Rosmore, and all the accommodation to be had in the neighbourhood, were filled with horses and carriages of every description. Everybody had come. The great element of success, which predetermines the question, the arrival of all expected, made the hearts of the hosts glad. Rowland had forgotten that little episode which still hung heavy on Archie’s soul, and stood beaming, the proudest man in the county, to receive his guests. The sound of the arrivals was music to his ears. That he, so simple as he stood there, the foundry lad, the railway man, the creator of his own fortune, should be receiving the best people in the countryside, opening large and liberal doors of hospitality, entertaining in the superior position of a host people whose names he had heard afar off in those early days, was a sort of happiness which he could scarcely believe, and which filled his heart with a glow of elation and proud delight. Perhaps it was not a very elevated or elevating sentiment. To shake hands with the Earl of Clydesdale, and welcome him to one’s house, might not fill one’s own bosom with any sense of bliss. But Lord Clydesdale was to James Rowland the king of his native district, high above all cavil or partnership, and there could be no such evident sign to him of the glorious position to which he had himself attained. This sense of triumph beamed all over him, and made his accent more and more cordial, his anxiety about the pleasure of his guests more and more warm. There was nothing he would not have done to add to the brightness of the joyous assembly. The least little momentary shade of dullness in any corner went to his heart. When he saw either girl or boy who was not dancing, he would come down upon them like a rescue party, providing partner, or supper, or refreshment, or repose, whatsoever they wanted. It could not be said that his success and glory made him selfish. He wanted everybody to enjoy as he was himself enjoying. Impossible to imagine a more beneficent form of success.
He had quite forgotten his censure of Archie. He clapped him on the shoulder when he appeared, with an exhortation—“Now Archie, man! shake yourself together—put your best foot foremost—make it go off! Mind we are all upon our promotion. If it is not the finest ball that has been given on Clydeside, I will never hold up my head more.” This address a little lightened Archie’s heart, still sore and heavy from the blame to which he had been subject—so undeservedly as he knew, but as nobody else was aware. And he was young, and though alarmed by the part he had himself to play, it was not in human nature not to feel some stir of exhilaration in the arrival of all that fine company, the music striking up, the crowd of other young people streaming in. What he would have thought of admission to such a scene a year ago! To be sure, this was chastened by the thought of the important part he had to play, as son of the house. He found Rosamond at his elbow, after his father had given him that exhortation.
“You should ask Lady Jean first,” said the young lady, holding, as usual, her head high and not looking at him while she spoke.
“Me—ask Lady Jean! to what?” he asked, with an uneasy laugh.
“To dance, of course—unless the Duchess comes: is the Duchess coming? Without her you have nothing better than a baronet and his wife. Therefore, unless your father dances, you must take out Lady Jean.”
“My father—dances?” cried Archie, with an uncontrollable laugh. It seemed to him the most ridiculous idea in the world.
“Most gentlemen do in their own houses,” said Rosamond, “but if he does not, then you. Lady Jean first. Then Lady Marchbanks: and not for some time that little pretty woman, whose husband was knighted the other day. She is my lady too, and perhaps you would never know the difference. But please to mind what I say.”
“Lady this, and Lady that—and when am I to come to you?” said Archie, taking a little courage.
“Oh, I will keep one for you—not till you have got through all your duty dances. That is the disadvantage many people say of a ball in one’s own house. But I like responsibility,” said Rosamond. “It is better than thinking merely what will be most fun.”
By the inspiration of this double charge, Archie became a new man. He led Lady Jean very tremulously, it must be allowed, through a quadrille—or she led him, it would perhaps be better to say; but he was very docile and very humble, and her ladyship did not dislike the modest young man, who, for the first time for some days, opened full his mother’s eyes, innocent and honest, upon those to whom he spoke. She said, “He’s not an ill lad, that young Rowland,” to the ladies about her. And Miss Eliza repeated it up and down the room. “We all know what dear Lady Jean means,” cried that lady. “She is maybe sparing of her praises, but when she does say a good word, it comes from the heart. He has many things to contend against, but he’s not an ill lad. I have always said it myself. Few women have greater opportunities of studying young folk than I have, though I’m only, as you may say, an old maid myself. And so is Lady Jean for that matter. We are just a real respectable fraternity—or would it be better to say sisterhood?—but that’s a word with other meanings. No, he’s not an ill lad. He has always been very civil to me, and the boys all like him. They say there’s no humbug in him. But Lady Jean is the one to give a thing it’s right name.”