"Perhaps so," said Rainsford; "but you surely consider Miss Mandeville beautiful?"
"The beauty of Lucinda Mandeville," replied Fitzsimmons, "is not that of a Grecian statue. It is the beauty of an elegant American lady, uniting all the best points of her countrywomen. Her figure is symmetry itself, and there is an ease, a grace, a dignity in her movements, which I have never seen surpassed. Her features are lovely in their form and charming in their expression, particularly her fine black eyes: and her complexion is unrivalled both in its bloom and its delicacy."
"What a pity that Lucinda does not hear all this!" remarked Miss Delwin, who happened to be near Fitzsimmons and his friend.
Fitzsimmons coloured, fearing that he had spoken with too much warmth: and, bowing to Miss Delwin, he took the arm of Rainsford, and went to another part of the room.
Miss Delwin, however, lost no time in finding Lucinda, and repeated the whole, verbatim, to her highly gratified friend, who tried to look indifferent, but blushed and smiled all the time she was listening: and who, from this moment, felt a sensible accession to her usual excellent spirits.
"Ladies," said Miss Delwin, "choose your partners for a cotillion."
For a few moments the ladies hesitated, and held back at the idea of so novel a beginning to the ball: and Fitzsimmons, much amused, made a sign to his friends not to advance. Miss Mandeville came forward with a smile on her lips, and a blush on her cheeks. The heart of Fitzsimmons beat quick; but she passed him, and curtsying to young Colesberry, who was just from college, and extremely diffident, she requested the honour of his hand, and led him, with as much composure as she could assume, to a cotillion that was forming in the centre of the room; he shrinking and apologizing all the while. And Miss Delwin engaged Fitzsimmons.
In a short time, all the ladies had provided themselves with partners.
At first, from the singularity of their mutual situation, both beaux and belles felt themselves under considerable embarrassment, but gradually this awkwardness wore away, and an example being set by the master spirits of the assembly, there was much pleasantry on either side; all being determined to humour the jest, and sustain it throughout with as good a grace as possible.
When the cotillions were forming for the second set, nearly a dozen young ladies found themselves simultaneously approaching Gordon Fitzsimmons, each with the design of engaging him as a partner. And this _empressement_ was not surprising, as he was decidedly the handsomest and most elegant man in the room.
"Well, ladies," said Fitzsimmons, as they almost surrounded him, "you must decide among yourselves which of you is to take me out. All I can do is to stand still and be passive. But I positively interdict any quarrelling about me."
"We have heard," said Miss Atherley, "of men dying of love, dying of grief, and dying from fear of death. We are now trying if it is not possible to make them die of vanity."
"True," replied Fitzsimmons, "we may say with Harry the Fifth at Agincourt--'He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,'"--"'Will stand a-tiptoe when this day is named,'"--added Miss Atherley, finishing the quotation.
Fitzsimmons did not reply; for his attention was at that moment engaged by seeing Miss Manderville leading out Apesley Sappington, and apparently much diverted with his absurdities.
"Ladies," said Miss Atherley, looking round to her companions, "let us try a fair chance of Mr. Fitzsimmons--suppose we draw lots for him."
"Do--by all means," exclaimed Fitzsimmons. "Set me up at a raffle."
"No," replied Miss Atherley, "we cannot conveniently raffle for you, as we have no dice at hand. Another way will do as well."
She then plucked from her bouquet some green rose-leaves, and half concealing them between her fingers, she offered the stems to each of her companions in turn, saying--"Whoever draws the largest rose-leaf may claim the honour of Mr. Fitzsimmons's hand for the next set."
The lots were drawn, and the largest rose-leaf remained with Miss Atherley (who was a young lady of much beauty and vivacity), and whom her friends laughingly accused of foul play in contriving to hold it back, in which opinion Fitzsimmons assured them that he perfectly coincided. But Miss Atherley, however, led him triumphantly to the cotillion which, fortunately for his partner, did not happen to be the one in which Lucinda Mandeville was engaged.
At the conclusion of each set, the ladies conducted the gentlemen to their seats, assisted them to the refreshments that were handed round, and stood by and fanned them. Most of the gentlemen took all this very well, but others were much disconcerted: particularly a grave knight-errant-looking Spaniard, who (having but lately arrived, and understanding the language but imperfectly) conceived that it was the custom in America for ladies to give balls to gentlemen, and to wait on them during the evening. In this error he was mischievously allowed to continue: but so much was his gallantry shocked, that he could not forbear dropping on his knees to receive the attentions that were assiduously proffered to him: bowing gratefully on the fair hands that presented him with a glass of orgeat or a plate of ice-cream.--And he was so overcome with the honour, and so deeply penetrated with a sense of his own unworthiness, when Lucinda Mandeville invited him to dance with her, that she almost expected to see him perform kotou, and knock his head nine times against the floor.
Among others of the company was Colonel Kingswood, a very agreeable bachelor, long past the meridian of life, but not quite old enough to marry a young girl, his mind, as yet, showing no symptoms of dotage. His fortune was not sufficient to make him an object of speculation, and though courteous to all, his attentions were addressed exclusively to none. He was much liked by his young friends of both sexes, all of them feeling perfectly at ease in his society. Though he rarely danced, he was very fond of balls, and had participated in the vexation of Gordon Fitzsimmons when the beaux had declined giving their Christmas fete to the belles.
In an interval between the sets, Lucinda suggested to a group of her fair companions, the propriety of asking Colonel Kingswood to dance; a compliment that he had not as yet received during the evening. "You know," said she, "the Colonel sometimes dances, and now that the ladies have assumed the privilege of choosing their partners, courtesy requires that none of the gentlemen should be neglected."
But each declined asking Colonel Kingswood, on the plea that they had other partners in view.
"For my part," said Miss Ormond, frankly, "I am just going to ask Mr.
Wyndham. This is, perhaps, the only chance I shall ever have of dancing with him, as I am quite certain he will never ask _me_."
"But, my dear Lucinda," said Miss Elgrove, "why not invite Colonel Kingswood yourself? There he is, talking to Mr. Fitzsimmons, near the central window. It is not magnanimous to propose to others what you are unwilling to do in _propria persona_."
Lucinda had, in reality, but one objection to proposing herself as a partner to Colonel Kingswood, and that was, his being just then engaged in conversation with Gordon Fitzsimmons, whom she felt a sort of conscious reluctance to approach. However, she paused a moment, and then summoned courage to join the two gentlemen and proffer her request to the Colonel, even though Fitzsimmons was close at hand.
"My dear Miss Mandeville," said Colonel Kingswood, "I confess that I have not courage to avail myself of your very tempting proposal. As my fighting days are now over, I cannot stand the shot of the jealous eyes that will be directed at me from every part of the ball-room."
"I have seen you dance," remarked Lucinda, evading the application of his compliment.
"True," replied the Colonel, "but you might have observed that I never take out the _young_ ladies--always being so considerate as to leave them to the young gentlemen. I carry my disinterestedness so far as invariably to select partners that are _ni jeune, ni jolie_: notwithstanding the remarks I frequently hear about well-matched pairs, &c."
"I am to understand, then," said Lucinda, "that you are mortifying me by a refusal."
"Come, now, be honest," returned Colonel Kingswood, "and change the word 'mortify' into _gratify_. But do not turn away. It is customary, you know, when a man is drawn for the militia and is unwilling to serve, to allow him to choose a substitute. Here then is mine. Advance, Mr.
Fitzsimmons, and with such a partner I shall expect to see you 'rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury.'"
Fitzsimmons came forward with sparkling eyes and a heightened colour, and offered his hand to Lucinda, whose face was suffused even to the temples. There were a few moments of mutual confusion, and neither party uttered a word till they had reached the cotillion. The music commenced as soon as they had taken their places, and Lucinda being desired by her opposite lady to lead, there was no immediate conversation.
Our heroine called up all her pride, all her self-command, and all her native buoyancy of spirits; Fitzsimmons did the same, and they managed in the intervals of the dance to talk with so much vivacity, that each was convinced that their secret was still preserved from the other.
When the set was over, they returned to the place in which they had left Colonel Kingswood, who received them with a smile.
"Well, Miss Mandeville," said he, "what pretty things have you been saying to your partner?"
"Ask Mr. Fitzsimmons," replied Lucinda.
"Not a single compliment could I extract from her," said Fitzsimmons; "she had not even the grace to imply her gratitude for doing me the honour of dancing with me, or rather, for my doing her the honour. Ah!
that is it--is it not? I forgot the present mode of expression. It is so difficult for one night only to get out of the old phraseology. But she certainly expressed no gratitude."
"I owed you none," replied Lucinda; "for, like Malvolio, you have had greatness thrust upon you. You know you are only Colonel Kingswood's substitute."
"Well," resumed Fitzsimmons, "have I not done my best to make 'the substitute shine brightly as the king?'"
"Recollect that the king is now by," said Colonel Kingswood. "But, Miss Mandeville, you must go through your part. Consider that to-night is the only opportunity the gentlemen may ever have of hearing how adroitly the ladies can flatter them."
"It is not in the bond," replied Lucinda.
"What is not?"
"That the ladies should flatter the gentlemen."
"Excuse me," said Colonel Kingswood; "the ladies having voluntarily taken the responsibility, the gentlemen must insist on their going regularly through the whole ball with all its accompaniments, including compliments, flattery, and flirtation, and a seasoning of genuine courtship, of which last article there is always more or less at every large party. And as it appears that Miss Mandeville has not faithfully done her part during the dance, she must make amends by doing it now."
"On the latter subject," said Fitzsimmons, "Miss Mandeville can need no prompting. Her own experience must have made her familiar with courtship in all its varieties."
"Of course,"--resumed the Colonel.--"So, Miss Mandeville, you can be at no loss in what manner to begin."
"And am I to stand here and be courted?" said Fitzsimmons.
"Now do not be frightened," observed the Colonel, "and do not look round as if you were meditating an escape. I will stand by and see how you acquit yourself in this new and delightful situation. Come, Miss Mandeville, begin."
"What sort of courtship will you have?" said Lucinda, who could not avoid laughing. "The sentimental, the prudential, or the downright?"