“She had, I think; or something like it.”
“It might have been Lord Dunham’s youngest daughter, who has just come out—she was there for an hour or so?”
“No, no, aunt: I know her by sight too—a pale gawky thing, with an arm and hand like a prize-fighter’s—oh no!”
“Upon my word, my dear nephew, you young men give yourselves abominable airs: I call her a very fine young woman, and I have no doubt she will marry well, though she hasn’t much fortune. Was it Miss Cassilis, then?—white tulle over satin, looped with roses, with gold sprigs”——
“And freckles to match: why, she’s as old as”——; I felt myself on dangerous ground, and filled up the hiatus, I fear not very happily, by looking full at my aunt.
“Not so very old, indeed, my dear: she refused a very good offer last season: she cannot possibly be above”——
“Oh! spare the particulars, pray, my dear ma’am; but you could not have seen the girl I mean: I don’t think she staid after supper: I looked everywhere for her to ask who she was, but she must have been gone.”
“Really! I wish I could help you,” said my aunt with a very insinuating smile.
“Oh,” said I, “what made me anxious to know who she was at the time, was simply that I saw her talking to an old friend of mine, whom you know something of, I believe; did you not meet Mr Ormiston somewhere last winter?”
“Mr Ormiston! oh, I saw him there last night! and now I know who you mean; it must have been Mary Russell, of course; she did wear pearls, and plain white muslin.”