As soon as his ideas became enlightened on this subject, he began to stammer out a few of those incoherent sentences with which young men of no education are apt to try to express their meaning.
"Upon my word--I--it is very strange now--I have a thousand apologies to--the most singular--I actually thought you--"
"Yes," said Margaret quietly, in one moment recognizing her friend of the race course, "it is not the first time to-day you have thought I was not a "young un.""
It would have done any artist good to have seen the officer"s face. His line was a bad one, but he was not first rate in his line--not a Lovelace, or a Pelham. He had not learned to be found out with a good grace. Like f.a.g, it hurt his conscience. He changed colour, and looked a good deal smaller than usual. Of course the first thing he did was to tell a lie. He hoped he had not pushed against her in the stand--some people behind, had been pressing upon him so scandalously, that he almost feared he had inconvenienced some ladies in the front of the stand; he hoped it had not been the case.
Margaret, rather amused at the way in which he got through the difficulty, made some slight reply, and took her place at the table. By some accident she was separated from the hero of the race course, and found herself between Mr. Haveloc, and Hubert Gage. Harriet Conway, still in her riding habit, sat on the other side of the said hero.
"Hubert, cannot you save Margaret the trouble of carving that dish, whatever it is?" said Harriet, seeing that Margaret looked embarra.s.sed at the task.
"I could, but I do not wish it," said Hubert. "It is so very becoming,"
he added in a low voice to Margaret, "ladies with such beautiful arms should always carve."
"I wish you would help me, instead of talking nonsense," said Margaret, who was colouring very much under the impression that two or three persons had their eyes fixed on her, "you see how disagreeable it is to me."
Before she had done speaking, Mr. Haveloc had taken the knife and fork from her hands.
"That"s right," said Harriet, speaking across to Mr. Haveloc.
"I do wish you would go to the ball, Harriet," said Hubert.
"Don"t you really go the ball?" echoed Mr. Elliot, the hero before mentioned, "how can you be so cruel as to remain at home?"
"Yes--you wish to dance with me, don"t you?" said Harriet, turning suddenly round upon him. "I"ll tell you why I don"t go. I detest dancing; unless one could hire a partner as they do in Flanders, and the man felt his value to be one kreutzer, and no more." A good many men can get on very well with people who are exactly like every body they are in the habit of meeting, but any thing like a character puts them quite out. So Mr. Elliot got up a little laugh and was silent. At last, he enquired of Harriet what amus.e.m.e.nt she preferred to dancing.
"Pistol shooting," said Harriet. "There"s the man with the champagne.
Don"t you take any?"
"You take no wine?" said Mr. Elliot.
"No--I never do," returned Harriet.
"And what can you hit with the pistol?"
"A wine-gla.s.s at sixteen paces."
"How often?"
"Sometimes. What can you hit?"
"A--why--a--"
"A hay-stack, I suppose. Tell somebody to bring me the cream."
"Have you heard Fornasari?" asked Mr. Elliot.
"No. What is he like?"
"Oh, very fine really! You would be delighted!"
"What is fine?" asked Harriet impatiently. "I want to know the sort of singer; and you call him fine!"
Mr. Elliot never having heard of a definition, was naturally silent under this attack.
"Have you been to town lately?" asked Harriet.
"Yes. I am only just returned."
"Have you seen the new marbles then?"
"The--I beg your pardon."
"The marble from Xanthis in the British Museum?"
"I don"t quite--I believe they took me once to the Museum when I was a boy in the Christmas holidays, along with the pantomimes."
"Ah! it is not now in the same place with the pantomimes; we have changed all that," said Harriet. "I say, Hubert, my Skye terrier caught a rat yesterday out walking."
"No, did he? I wish I had been there," said Hubert, "Why did not you let me walk with you?"
"It was before you came home. Don"t you know you were only just in time for dinner."
"So I was. What did you win of me, Miss Capel?"
"Nothing," said Margaret, "I would not bet at all."
"I was so sorry for your determination," said George Gage, across the table to Margaret, "it would have been such a pleasure to lose to you."
And upon this gallant speech, he and Harriet exchanged one of their singular glances.
"You did not care which horse won, did you?" asked Hubert.
"Yes, I did," said Margaret, "but I knew that one would not win."
"Which was it?"
"Hyacinth. It was such a pretty name."
"And how did you contrive to form so correct an estimate of Hyacinth"s merits?" asked George Gage.
"Oh! I knew nothing about it," said Margaret. "Harriet told me."
"Miss Conway has the advantage of a friend behind the scenes," said George coolly; and then another glance flashed across the table from Harriet"s splendid eyes.
Mr. Elliot mentioned the name of the person to whom Hyacinth belonged--made some remark upon the fore-foot of the animal, and then was silent; naturally thinking that he had instructed the company enough for one while.
When Margaret returned to the drawing-room, she found her head so very much worse, that she was obliged to tell Elizabeth, in confidence, that she did not think she would be able to go to the ball.