And thus was my deviation from truth punished; and thus did this man’s determined boldness conquer.
During the dance, before we were too much engaged in it for conversation, he was extremely provoking about my partner, and tried every means in his power to make me own that I had deceived him; which, though I would not so far humble myself as to acknowledge, was indeed but too obvious.
Lord Orville, I fancy, did not dance at all. He seemed to have a large acquaintance, and joined several different parties: but you will easily suppose, I was not much pleased to see him, in a few minutes after I was gone, walk towards the place I had just left, and bow to and join Mrs. Mirvan!
How unlucky I thought myself, that I had not longer withstood this stranger’s importunities! The moment we had gone down the dance, I was hastening away from him; but he stopped me, and said, that I could by no means return to my party without giving offence, before we had done our duty of walking up the dance. As I know nothing at all of these rules and customs I was obliged to submit to his directions; but I fancy I looked rather uneasy, for he took notice of my inattention, saying, in his free way, “Whence that anxiety?—Why are those lovely eyes perpetually averted?”
“I wish you would say no more to me, Sir,” cried I peevishly; “you have already destroyed all my happiness for this evening.”
“Good Heaven! What is it I have done?—How have I merited this scorn?”
“You have tormented me to death; you have forced me from my friends, and intruded yourself upon me, against my will, for a partner.”
“Surely, my dear Madam, we ought to be better friends, since there seems to be something of sympathy in the frankness of our dispositions.—And yet, were you not an angel—how do you think I could brook such contempt?”
“If I have offended you,” cried I, “you have but to leave me—and O how I wish you would!”
“My dear creature,” said he, half laughing, “why where could you be educated?”
“Where I most sincerely wish I now was!”
“How conscious you must be, all beautiful that you are, that those charming airs serve only to heighten the bloom of your complexion!”
“Your freedom, Sir, where you are more acquainted, may perhaps be less disagreeable; but to me—”
“You do me justice,” cried he, interrupting me, “yes, I do indeed improve upon acquaintance; you will hereafter be quite charmed with me.”
“Hereafter, Sir, I hope I shall never—”
“O hush!—hush!—have you forgot the situation in which I found you?—Have you forgot, that when deserted, I pursued you—when betrayed, I adored you?—but for me—”
“But for you, Sir, I might perhaps have been happy.”
“What then, am I to conclude that, but for me, your partner would have appeared?—poor fellow!—and did my presence awe him?”
“I wish his presence, Sir, could awe you!”
“His presence!—perhaps then you see him?”
“Perhaps, Sir, I do,” cried I, quite wearied of his raillery.
“Where? Where?—for Heaven’s sake show me the wretch!”
“Wretch, Sir!”
“O, a very savage!—a sneaking, shamefaced, despicable puppy!”
I know not what bewitched me—but my pride was hurt, and my spirits were tired, and—in short, I had the folly, looking at Lord Orville, to repeat, “Despicable, you think?”
His eyes instantly followed mine; “Why, is that the gentleman?”
I made no answer; I could not affirm, and I would not deny:—for I hoped to be relieved from his teasing by his mistake.
The very moment we had done what he called our duty, I eagerly desired to return to Mrs. Mirvan.
“To your partner, I presume, Madam?” said he, very gravely.
This quite confounded me. I dreaded lest this mischievous man ignorant of his rank, should address himself to Lord Orville, and say something which might expose my artifice. Fool! to involve myself in such difficulties! I now feared what I had before wished; and therefore, to avoid Lord Orville, I was obliged myself to propose going down another dance, though I was ready to sink with shame while I spoke.
“But your partner, Ma’am?” said he, affecting a very solemn air, “perhaps he may resent my detaining you: if you will give me leave to ask his consent—”
“Not for the universe.”
“Who is he, Madam?”
I wished myself a hundred miles off. He repeated his question, “What is his name?”
“Nothing—nobody—I don’t know—”
He assumed a most important solemnity: “How!—not know?—Give me leave, my dear Madam, to recommend this caution to you: Never dance in public with a stranger—with one whose name you are unacquainted with—who may be a mere adventurer—a man of no character, consider to what impertinence you may expose yourself.”
Was ever anything so ridiculous? I could not help laughing, in spite of my vexation.
At this instant, Mrs. Mirvan, followed by Lord Orville, walked up to us. You will easily believe it was not difficult for me to recover my gravity; but what was my consternation, when this strange man, destined to be the scourge of my artifice, exclaimed, “Ha! My Lord Orville!—I protest I did not know your Lordship. What can I say for my usurpation?—Yet, faith, my Lord, such a prize was not to be neglected.”
My shame and confusion were unspeakable. Who could have supposed or foreseen that this man knew Lord Orville? But falsehood is not more unjustifiable than unsafe.
Lord Orville—well he might—looked all amazement.
“The philosophic coldness of your Lordship,” continued this odious creature, “every man is not endowed with. I have used my utmost endeavours to entertain this lady, though I fear without success; and your Lordship will not be a little flattered, if acquainted with the difficulty which attended my procuring the honour of only one dance.” Then, turning to me, who was sinking with shame, while Lord Orville stood motionless, and Mrs. Mirvan astonished—he suddenly seized my hand, saying, “Think, my Lord, what must be my reluctance to resign this fair hand to your Lordship!”
In the same instant, Lord Orville took it of him; I coloured violently, and
