Quand on est honnête homme, ou ne veut rien devoir
A ce que des parens ont sur nous du pouvoir.
On répugne à se faire immoler ce qu'on aime,
Et l'on veut n'obtenir un cœur que de lui-même.
Ne poussez pas ma mère à vouloir, par son choix,
Exercer sur mes vœux la rigueur de ses droits.
Otez-moi votre amour, et portez à quelqu'autre
Les hommages d'un cœur aussi cher que le votre.
Moliere.
So the days passed on; and in due course arrived the one fixed by Mrs. Pendarrel for her great entertainment. March was coming in like a lamb when the appointed morning dawned, the festival having been postponed to nearly the time of the county assizes, for the convenience of Mr. Pendarrel, who was always summoned on the grand jury. Mildred no longer contemplated it with her old alarm, but rather hoped it might afford her an opportunity of coming to an explanation with her suitor of Tolpeden, and so relieve her at once and for ever from his unwelcome addresses. As for Michael Sinson, he had gone to London again.
A very busy day was that at the Hall. Not only the suite of saloons, opening by French windows on a terrace, whence a few steps descended to a lawn diversified by clumps of flowering shrubs, but also, under favour of the genial season, the lawn itself and the neighbouring alleys were prepared for the entertainment of the company. Coloured lamps were dispersed among the bushes, and festoons of the same were hung from branch to branch of the trees which in summer shaded the gravel walks. Arrangements were made also for a display of fireworks. In short, the hostess provided amusement for a very miscellaneous assembly, looking beyond the gaiety of the evening to the maintenance of political influence, and having swept with her invitations half the hundred of West Kerrier.
Her obsequious consort arrived in the course of the day, quitting the cares of office to show civility to his adherents. Unwillingly, indeed, he came, for he hated the country, and would gladly have deferred his visit until the assizes. But his wife required his presence, perhaps, for ulterior views. There was another guest for whom Mildred might hope in vain: no Gertrude was there to gladden her with sisterly affection.
Twilight had scarcely deepened into night when the earliest of the company made their appearance. A worthy civic dignitary from a neighbouring borough, with his wife, and his sons and his daughters, walked in dismay through the splendour of the drawing-rooms to pay his respects to his excellent representative. Alas! that free and independent elector, if, indeed, he survived the shock, has now wept long for his dearly-beloved franchise. As Napoleon has been imagined in shadowy pomp reviewing a spectral army on the plain of Waterloo, may we not fancy that the latest burgesses of Grampound or Old Sarum are summoned from their tombs by the dissolution of a Parliament, meet again in the ruined town-hall, or on the desolate mound, stretch their skeleton hands for the well-remembered compliment, elect a truly British member, partake of an unsubstantial feast, and sink again into their last sleep, in the manner recorded of Bibo, with the honest conviction that, as men and as Englishmen, they have that day done their duty? The mockery would be no greater than of old.
Let not the worthy alderman be disconcerted. Some one must be first at a party, but the intervals between that arrival, and the next, and the next, are always brief, and they become shorter and shorter, until the stream is continuous, and the scattered groups which had been scrutinizing each other are blended together in one great crowd. So it was now: a host of people speedily followed the Pentreaths. There was Sir Simon Rogers, portly and pompous, whose history might be read in the colour of his nose. He was still seeking a successor to the dairy-maid. There was Mr. Hitchins, who had made his fortune by a lucky boring for tin, with his scientific daughter, who, having been down her father's mine, inflicted the descent upon all her partners. To dance with her was almost literally to fall into a pit. There were the Misses Eildon, antiquarian and antiquated. There were sea-board parsons of the old school, who might have called on their congregations to give them a fair start for the wreck. Tres, Rosses, and Pols, Lans, Caers, and Pens, abounded. There was plenty of beauty and plenty of sense. And the throng was illustrated by a few uniforms from the troops on duty in the neighbourhood, still flushed with the glory of the war.
Music lent its inspiration to the throng, and the crowded saloons were all animation. Country dances and quadrilles followed each other in endless succession; and the non-dancing community sauntered to and fro, seeking friends and acquaintance, exchanging compliments and sarcasms, making engagements, indulging in scandal, eternally talking and contributing to the buzz which at a little distance almost overpowered the orchestra. But the prevailing confusion of tongues was slightly stilled when an attendant announced "Mr. Melcomb."
Mildred had remained by her mother's side. She thought there had been something a little peculiar in the observation bestowed upon herself. In the lull which for a moment followed Melcomb's appearance, she supposed she detected its origin. She might read it perhaps more plainly in the faces of two or three worthy dames near her, who, as soon as they heard the name, looked at her with all their might. She passed through the ordeal triumphantly.