"Oh! yes it does," replied Harriet, archly.
"Well, madam, if it doesn't, just mention it to me, and I'll willingly stop,--the honour of dancing with so fine a young lady is sufficient happiness."
"Well, Miss," said young Tinsley to Caroline, "you have but a stran_n_ge sort of dancing here to the north. I can't make out much with your cotillions. Before one has time to learn the figure by heart they're over; and as to your sash_a_y and balanj_a_y, I don't know which is which: I'm not good at any of your French capers--I'm old Virginia. Give me one of our own up-country reels--'Fire in the mountains,' or 'Possum up the gum tree,'--I could show you the figure in a minute, with ourselves and two chears."
The dance had now commenced; and Major Steifenbiegen showed some signs of trepidation, saying to Miss Darnel, "Madam, will you allow me, if I may be so bold, to tax your goodness farther by depending entirely on your kind instructions as to the manoeuvres of the dance. I cannot say, madam, that I ever was a dancing character--some people are not.
It's a study that I have but lately taken up. But with so fine a young lady for a teacher, I hope to acquit myself properly. I have been informed that Rome was not built in a day. Please, madam, to tell me what I am to do first."
"Observe the gentleman above you," replied Harriet, "and you will see in a moment."
The major did observe, but could not "catch the idea." The music was Fisher's Hornpipe, at that time very popular as a country-dance, and Major Steifenbiegen was at length made to understand that he was first to go down by himself, outside of the line of gentlemen, and without his partner, who was to go down on the inside. He set off on his lonely expedition with rather a _triste_ countenance. To give himself a wide field, he struck out so far into the vacant part of the room, that a stranger, entering at the moment, would have supposed that, for some misdemeanor, he had been expelled from the dance, and was performing a solitary _pas seul_ by way of penance. His face brightened, however, when a gentleman, observing that he took no "note of time," kindly recalled him to his place in the vicinity of Miss Darnel. But his perplexities were now increased. In crossing hands, he went every way but the right one, and the confusion he caused, and his formal apologies, were as annoying to his partner,--who tried in vain to rectify his mistakes,--as they were diverting to the other ladies. He ducked his head, and raised his shoulders every time he made a dive at their hands, lifting his feet high, like the Irishman that "rose upon sugan, and sunk upon gad."
Harriet could almost have cried with vexation; but the worst was still to come, and she prepared for the crowning misery of going down the middle with Major Steifenbiegen. He no longer touched merely the ends of her fingers, but he grasped both her hands hard, as if to secure her protection, and holding them high above her head, he blundered down the dance, running against one person, stumbling over another, and looking like a frightened fool, while his uniform made him doubly conspicuous.
The smiles of the company were irrepressible, and those at a distance laughed outright.
When they came to the bottom, Harriet, who was completely out of patience, declared herself fatigued, and insisted on sitting down; and the major, saying that it was his duty to comply with every request of so fine a young lady, led her to Miss Clements, who, though pained at her niece's evident mortification, had been an amused spectator of the dance. The major then took his station beside Harriet, fanning her awkwardly, and desiring permission to entertain her till the next set.
She hinted that it would probably be more agreeable to him to join some of his friends on the other side of the room; but he told her that he could not be so ungrateful for the numerous honours she had done him, as to prefer any society to hers.
In the mean time, Caroline Darnel had fared but little better with Lieutenant Tinsley; and she was glad to recollect, for the honour of the army, that he was only an officer of yesterday, and also to hope (as was the truth) that he was by no means a fair sample of the sons of Virginia. He danced badly and ridiculously, though certainly not from embarrassment, romped and scampered, and was entirely regardless of _les bienseances_.
When they had got to the bottom of the set, and had paused to take breath, the lieutenant began to describe to Caroline an opossum hunt--then told her how inferior was the rabbit of Pennsylvania to the "old yar"[74] of Virginia; and descanted on the excellence of their corn-bread, bacon, and barbecued chickens. He acknowledged, however, that "where he was raised, the whole neighbourhood counted on having the ague every spring and fall."
[Footnote 74: Hare.]
"Then why do they stay there?" inquired Caroline. "I wonder that any people, who are able to leave it, should persist in living in such a place."
"Oh! you don't know us at all," replied Tinsley. "We are so used to the ague, that when it quits us, we feel as if we were parting with an old friend. As for me, I fit against it for a while, and then gave up; finding that all the remedies, except mint-juleps, were worse than the disease. I used to sit upon the _stars_ and shake, wrapped in my big overcoat, with my hat on, and the capes drawn over my head--I'm old Virginia."
Like her sister, Caroline now expressed a desire to quit the dance and sit down, to which her partner assented; and, after conveying her to her party, and telling her: "There, now, you can say you have danced with an officer," he wheeled off, adding: "I'll go and get a _cigyar_, and take a stroll round the _squarr_ with it. There's so much noise here that I can't do my think."
The major looked astonished at Tinsley's immediate abandonment of a lady so young and so pretty, and, by way of contrast, was more obsequious than ever to Harriet, reiterating the request which he had made her as they quitted the dance, to honour him with her hand for the next set; telling her that now, having had some practice, he hoped, with her instructions, to acquit himself better than in the last. Harriet parried his importunities as adroitly as she could; determined to avoid any farther exhibition with him, and yet unwilling to sit still, according to the usual ball-room penalty for refusing the invitation of a proffered partner.
Both the girls had been thoroughly ashamed of their epauletted beaux, and had often, during the dance, looked with wistful eyes towards Messrs. Wilson and Thomson, who were very genteel young men, and very good dancers, and whose partners--two beautiful girls--seemed very happy with them.
The major, seeing that other gentlemen were doing so, now departed in quest of lemonade for the ladies; and, taking advantage of his absence, Harriet exclaimed: "Oh, Aunt Sophy, Aunt Sophy! tell me what to do--I cannot dance again with that intolerable man, neither do I wish to be compelled to sit still in consequence of refusing him. I have paid dearly for his two epaulets."
"My fool had but one," said Caroline, "and a citizen's coat beside, therefore my bargain was far worse than yours. I have some hope, however, that he has no notion of asking me again, and if he has, that he will not get back from his tour round the _squarr_ before the next set begins. I wish his cigar was the size of one of those candles, that he might be the longer getting through with it! Oh! that some one would ask me immediately!"
"I am sure I wish the same," said Harriet.
At that moment, they were gladdened by the approach of Mr. Harford, a very ugly little man, whose dancing and deportment were sufficiently _comme il faut_, and no more. And when he requested Caroline's hand for the next set, both the girls, in their eagerness, started forward, and replied: "With pleasure."
Mr. Harford, not appearing to perceive that her sister had also accepted the invitation, bowed his thanks to Caroline, who introduced him to Miss Clements. Harriet, recollecting herself, blushed and drew back; while Sophia, to cover her niece's confusion, entered into conversation with the gentleman.
Presently, Major Steifenbiegen came up with three or four glasses of lemonade on a waiter, and a plate piled high with cakes; all of which he pressed on the ladies with most urgent perseverance, evidently desirous that they should drain the last drop of the lemonade, and finish the last morsel of the cakes.
As soon as they had partaken of these refreshments, Mr. Harford led Caroline to a cotillion that was arranging. While talking to him she felt some one twitch her sleeve, and turning round she beheld Lieutenant Tinsley.
"So, miss," said he, "you have given me the slip. Well, I have not been gone long. My cigyar was not good, so I chuck'd it away in short order; and I came back, and have been looking all about; but seeing nobody prettier, I concluded I might as well take you out for this dance also.
However, there's not much harm done, as I suppose you'll have no objection to dance with me next time; and I'll try to get up a Virginia reel."
Caroline, much vexed, replied, "I believe I shall dance no more after this set."
"What! tired already!" exclaimed Tinsley; "it's easy to see you are not old Virginia."
"I hope so," said Caroline, petulantly.
"Why, that's rather a quare answer," resumed Tinsley, after pondering a moment till he had comprehended the innuendo; "but I suppose ladies must be allowed to say what they please. Good evening, miss."
And he doggedly walked off, murmuring, "After all, these Philadelphia girls are not worth a copper."
When Caroline turned round again, she was delighted to perceive the glitter of his epaulet amidst a group of young men that were leaving the room; and the music now striking up, she cheerfully led off with good, ugly Mr. Harford, who had risen highly in her estimation as contrasted with Lieutenant Tinsley.
Meanwhile, Harriet remained in her seat beside her aunt; the major standing before them, prosing and complimenting, and setting forth his humble opinion of himself; in which opinion the two ladies, in their hearts, most cordially joined him. Miss Clements, who had much tact, drew him off from her niece, by engaging him in a dialogue exactly suited to his character and capacity; while, unperceived by the major, Mr. Thomson stepped up, and, after the interchange of a few words, led off Harriet to a cotillion, saying, "Depend upon it, he is not sufficiently _au fait_ of the etiquette of a ball room to take offence at your dancing with me, after having been asked by him."
"But, if he _should_ resent it----"
"Then I shall know how to answer him. But rely upon it, there is nothing to fear."
It was not till the Chace was danced, and the major, happening to turn his head in following the eyes of Miss Clements, saw Harriet gayly flying round the cotillion with Mr. Thomson, that he missed her for the first time,--having taken it for granted that she would dance with him.
He started, and exclaimed--"Well, I certainly am the most faulty of men--the most condemnable--the most unpardonable officer in the army--to be guilty of such neglect--such rudeness--and to so fine a young lady. I ought never to presume to show myself in the best classes of society.
Madam, may I hope that you will stand my friend--that you will help me to gain my pardon?"
"For what?" asked Miss Clements.
"For inviting that handsome young lady to favour me again with her hand, and then to neglect observing when the dance was about to begin, so that she was obliged to accept the offer of another gentleman. He, no doubt, stepped up just in time to save her from sitting still, which, I am told, is remarkably disagreeable to young ladies. Madam, I mean no reflection on you--I am incapable of any reflection on you--but (if I may be so bold as to say so) it was _your_ fine, sensible conversation that drew me from my duty."
The set being now over, Major Steifenbiegen advanced to meet Mr. Thomson and Miss Darnel, and he accosted the former with--"Sir, give me your hand. Sir, you are a gentleman, and I am much obligated to you for sparing this young lady the mortification of not dancing with me."
("You may leave out the 'not,'" murmured Harriet to herself.)
"Of not enjoying the dance to which I had invited her, and of saving her from sitting still for want of a partner--all owing to my unofficer-like conduct in neglecting to claim her hand. I begin to perceive that I want some more practice in ball behaviour. I thank you again for your humane kindness to the young lady, which, I hope, will turn aside her anger from me."
"Oh, yes!" said Harriet, almost afraid to speak lest she should laugh.
"Will you favour me with your name, sir?" pursued the major.
Mr. Thomson gave it, much amused at the turn that things had taken. The major, after admiring the name, said he should always remember it with esteem, and regretted that his having to set out for Plattsburgh early on the following morning would, for the present, prevent their farther acquaintance. He then made sundry other acknowledgments to Harriet for all the honours she had done him that evening, including her forgiveness of his "letting her dance without him,"--bowed to Caroline, who had just approached with Mr. Harford; and, going up to Miss Clements, he thanked her for her conversation, and finally took his departure. The girls did not laugh till he was entirely out of the room, though Harriet remarked that he walked edgeways, which she had not observed when he was first brought up to her; her fancy being then excited, and her perception blinded by the glitter of his two epaulets.
"Well, Miss Darnel," said Mr. Wilson, who had just joined them, "how do you like your field-officer?"
"Need you ask me?" replied Harriet. "In future I shall hate the sight of two silver epaulets."
"And I of one gold one," added Caroline.
"I will not trust you," said Mr. Thomson, with a smile.
"We shall see," said Mr. Wilson.