Just at that moment one of Miss Hubbard's admirers approached her, and without waiting to hear the conclusion of Elinor's remark, she turned abruptly from the lady, to meet the gentleman, with a striking increase of grace, and the expression of the greatest interest in her whole manner.
Elinor smiled, as the thought occurred to her, that this last act of rudeness was really trying to her good-nature, while she had never dreamed of resenting the interruption of the morning. But Miss Hubbard was only following the code of etiquette, tacitly adopted by the class of young ladies she belonged to, who never scrupled to make their manner to men, much more attentive and flattering than towards one of themselves, or even towards an older person of their own sex.
Elinor, however, had seen such manoeuvres before, and she would scarcely have noticed it at the moment, had it not been for Miss Emmeline's previous apology.
Mrs. Hilson soon approached her. "Has Emmeline been communicating our Longbridge intelligence, Miss Wyllys? Do you think it a good match?"
"I hope it will prove so; we were very glad to hear of it. Mary Van Horne is a great favourite of my aunt's, and Mr. Roberts, I hear, is highly spoken of."
"Yes; and he is very rich; too; she has nothing at all herself; I believe.''
"Do you know whether they are to live in New York? I hope they will not go very far from us."
"I suppose they will live in the city, as he is so wealthy; Mary will have an opportunity of tasting the fascinations of high life. I shall introduce her to a clique of great refinement at once. Don't you think Saratoga the most delightful place in the world, Miss Wyllys? I am never so happy as when here. I delight so much in the gay world; it appears to me that I breathe more freely in a crowd—solitude oppresses me; do you like it?"
"I have never tried it very long. If you like a crowd, you must be perfectly satisfied, just now."
''And so I am, Miss Wyllys, perfectly happy in these fashionable scenes. Do you know, it is a fact, that I lose my appetite unless I can sit down to table with at least thirty or forty fashionably dressed people about me; and I never sleep sounder than on board a steamboat, where the floor is covered with mattresses. I am not made for retirement, certainly. Ah, Monsieur Bonnet, here you are again, I see; what have you done with the Baron?—is not the Baron with you?"