A confused idea now for the first time entered my head, of something I had heard of the rules of an assembly; but I was never at one before—I have only danced at school—and so giddy and heedless I was, that I had not once considered the impropriety of refusing one partner, and afterwards accepting another. I was thunderstruck at the recollection: but, while these thoughts were rushing into my head, Lord Orville with some warmth, said, “This Lady, Sir, is incapable of meriting such an accusation!”
The creature—for I am very angry with him—made a low bow and with a grin the most malicious I ever saw, “My Lord,” said he, “far be it from me to accuse the lady, for having the discernment to distinguish and prefer—the superior attractions of your Lordship.”
Again he bowed and walked off.
Was ever anything so provoking? I was ready to die with shame. “What a coxcomb!” exclaimed Lord Orville: while I, without knowing what I did, rose hastily, and moving off, “I can’t imagine,” cried I, “where Mrs. Mirvan has hid herself!”
“Give me leave to see,” answered he. I bowed and sat down again, not daring to meet his eyes; for what must he think of me, between my blunder, and the supposed preference?
He returned in a moment, and told me that Mrs. Mirvan was at cards, but would be glad to see me; and I went immediately. There was but one chair vacant; so, to my great relief, Lord Orville presently left us. I then told Mrs. Mirvan my disasters; and she good-naturedly blamed herself for not having better instructed me; but said, she had taken it for granted that I must know such common customs. However, the man may, I think, be satisfied with his pretty speech and carry his resentment no farther.
In a short time Lord Orville returned. I consented, with the best grace I could, to go down another dance, for I had had time to recollect myself; and therefore resolved to use some exertion, and, if possible, to appear less a fool than I had hitherto done; for it occurred to me, that, insignificant as I was, compared to a man of his rank and figure; yet, since he had been so unfortunate as to make choice of me for a partner, why I should endeavour to make the best of it.
The dance, however, was short, and he spoke very little; so I had no opportunity of putting my resolution in practice. He was satisfied, I suppose, with his former successless efforts to draw me out or, rather, I fancied he had been enquiring who I was. This again disconcerted me; and the spirits I had determined to exert, again failed me. Tired, ashamed, and mortified, I begged to sit down till we returned home, which I did soon after. Lord Orville did me the honour to hand me to the coach, talking all the way of the honour I had done him! O these fashionable people!
Well, my dear Sir, was it not a strange evening? I could not help being thus particular, because, to me, everything is so new. But it is now time to conclude. I am, with all love and duty, your
Letter XII
Evelina in Continuation
Tuesday, .
There is to be no end to the troubles of last night. I have this moment, between persuasion and laughter, gathered from Maria the most curious dialogue that ever I heard. You will at first be startled at my vanity; but, my dear Sir, have patience!
It must have passed while I was sitting with Mrs. Mirvan, in the cardroom. Maria was taking some refreshment, and saw Lord Orville advancing for the same purpose himself; but he did not know her, though she immediately recollected him. Presently after, a very gay-looking man, stepping hastily up to him cried, “Why, my Lord, what have you done with your lovely partner?”
“Nothing!” answered Lord Orville with a smile and a shrug.
“By Jove,” cried the man, “she is the most beautiful creature I ever saw in my life!”
Lord Orville, as he well might, laughed; but answered, “Yes, a pretty modest-looking girl.”
“O my Lord!” cried the madman, “she is an angel!”
“A silent one,” returned he.
“Why ay, my Lord, how stands she as to that? She looks all intelligence and expression.”
“A poor weak girl!” answered Lord Orville, shaking his head.
“By Jove,” cried the other, “I am glad to hear it!”
At that moment, the same odious creature who had been my former tormentor, joined them. Addressing Lord Orville with great respect, he said, “I beg pardon, my Lord—if I was—as I fear might be the case—rather too severe in my censure of the lady who is honoured with your protection—but, my Lord, ill-breeding is apt to provoke a man.”
“Ill-breeding!” cried my unknown champion, “impossible! that elegant face can never be so vile a mask!”
“O Sir, as to that,” answered he, “you must allow me to judge; for though I pay all deference to your opinion—in other things—yet I hope you will grant—and I appeal to your Lordship also—that I am not totally despicable as a judge of good or ill-manners.”
“I was so wholly ignorant,” said Lord Orville, gravely, “of the provocation you might have had, that I could not but be surprised at your singular resentment.”
“It was far from my intention,” answered he, “to offend your Lordship; but, really, for a person who is nobody, to give herself such airs—I own I could not command my passion. For, my Lord, though I have made diligent enquiry—I cannot learn who she is.”
“By what I can make out,” cried my defender, “she must be a country parson’s daughter.”
“He! he! he! very good, ’pon honour!” cried the fop;—“well, so I could have sworn by her manners.”
And then, delighted at his own wit, he laughed, and went away, as I suppose, to repeat
