While the carriage was being brought round, Rachel kept close to her chaperon; but every now and again her eyes, in spite of herself, would wander away to Mr. Rowan. Was he in any way affected by her leaving him, or was it all a joke to him? He was dancing now with Cherry Tappitt, and Rachel was sure that all of it was a joke. But it was a cruel joke—cruel because it exposed her to so much ill-natured remark. With him she would quarrel—quarrel really. She would let him know that he should not call her by her Christian name just when it suited him to do so, and then take himself off to play with others in the same way. She would tell Cherry, and make Cherry understand that all walks and visiting and friendly intercommunications must be abandoned because this young man would take advantage of her position to annoy her! He should be made to understand that she was not in his power! Then, as she thought of this, she caught his eye as he made a sudden stop in the dance close to her, and all her hard thoughts died away. Ah, dear, what was it that she wanted of him?
At that moment they got up to go away. Such a person as Mrs. Butler Cornbury could not, of course, escape without a parade of adieux. Mr. Tappitt was searched up from the little room in which the card-party held their meeting in order that he might hand the guest that had honoured him down to her carriage; and Mrs. Tappitt fluttered about, profuse in her acknowledgments for the favour done to them. “And we do so hope Mr. Cornbury will be successful,” she said, as she bade her last farewell. This was spoken close to Mr. Tappitt’s ear; and Mrs. Cornbury flattered herself that after that Mr. Tappitt’s vote would be secure. Mr. Tappitt said nothing about his vote, but handed the lady downstairs in solemn silence.
The Tappitt girls came and clustered about Rachel as she was going. “I can’t conceive why you are off so early,” said Martha. “No, indeed,” said Mrs. Tappitt; “only of course it would be very wrong to keep Mrs. Cornbury waiting when she has been so excessively kind to you.” “The naughty girl! It isn’t that at all,” said Cherry. “It’s she that is hurrying Mrs. Cornbury away.” “Good night,” said Augusta very coldly. “And Rachel,” said Cherry, “mind you come up tomorrow and talk it all over; we shall have so much to say.” Then Rachel turned to go, and found Luke Rowan at her elbow waiting to take her down. She had no alternative;—she must take his arm; and thus they walked downstairs into the hall together.
“You’ll come up here tomorrow,” said he.
“No, no; tell Cherry that I shall not come.”
“Then I shall go to Bragg’s End. Will your mother let me call?”
“No, don’t come. Pray don’t.”
“I certainly shall;—certainly, certainly! What things have you got? Let me put your shawl on for you. If you do not come up to the girls, I shall certainly go down to you. Now, good night. Good night, Mrs. Cornbury.” And Luke, getting hold of Rachel’s reluctant hand, pressed it with all his warmth.
“I don’t want to ask indiscreet questions,” said Mrs. Cornbury; “but that young man seems rather smitten, I think.”
“Oh, no,” said Rachel, not knowing what to say.
“But I say—oh, yes; a nice good-looking man he is too, and a gentleman, which is more than I can say for all of them there. What an escape you had of Mr. Griggs, my dear!”
“Yes, I had. But I was so sorry that you should have to speak to him.”
“Of course I spoke to him. I was there to fight your battles for you. That’s why married ladies go to balls. You were quite right not to dance with him. A girl should always avoid any intimacy with such men as that. It is not that he would have done you any harm; but they stand in the way of your satisfaction and contentment. Balls are given specially for young ladies; and it is my theory that they are to make themselves happy while they are there, and not sacrifice themselves to men whom they don’t wish to know. You can’t always refuse when you’re asked, but you can always get out of an engagement afterwards if you know what you’re about. That was my way when I was a girl.” And this was the daughter of Mr. Comfort, whose somewhat melancholy discourses against the world’s pleasures and vanities had so often filled Rachel’s bosom with awe!
Rachel sat silent, thinking of what had occurred at Mrs. Tappitt’s; and thinking also that she ought to make some little speech to her friend, thanking her for all that she had done. Ought she not also to apologise in some way for her own conduct? “What was that between you and my cousin Walter?” Mrs. Cornbury asked, after a few moments.
“I hope I wasn’t to blame,” said Rachel. “But—”
“But what? Of course you weren’t to blame;—unless it was in being run after by so many gentlemen at once.”
“He was going to take me down to supper—and it was so kind of him. And then while we were waiting because the room downstairs was full, there was another quadrille,
