Dilemmas of Pride. Mrs. Loudon
they made family their constant theme; and inquired with the most consequential airs about the connections of every one they heard named; always winding up their harangue by observing, that of course it was very natural for a man like their father, of such an ancient and highly respectable family, to be very particular about who they visited, particularly in those sorts of places where people of every description congregated.
"It's no harm, you know," said Miss Salter to her sister, "to have the name of being particular, it makes people of consequence; at the same time I'd have us get acquainted with every creature we can, and go everywhere; there's no knowing where one might find one's luck."
"Talking of luck," answered Grace, "I read in one of the new novels the other day, that 'luck knocks once at every one's door;' I wish it would knock once at mine, I know, and it shouldn't have to knock again."
"And, by-the-by, was it quite prudent of us, on your plan, to cut Mrs. Dorothea Arden as we have done?"
"Oh, yes; what's the use of an old maid, she can have no sons, you know; besides, we didn't cut her till Lady Whaleworthy, and Lady Flamborough, and Lady Shawbridge, and all of them, had called; and then I thought we could spare such old lumber as Mrs. Dorothea."
"Why, to be sure, as you say, she can have no sons; indeed I never even heard her speak of a brother or a nephew; and as to her expecting this Lady Arden that she is always talking about, I am sure its nothing but a boast."
"Nothing more you may be certain! And then I was afraid my father would have taken a fancy to her at last, for he was always saying, she was a fine woman for her years."
"She was very useful however at first," said Grace.
"Oh yes she was, certainly," replied Miss Salter, "but now you know we don't want her."
CHAPTER V.
Lady Arden, leaning on her son Alfred, her eldest daughter on the other side, her two younger following, had just entered the ballroom at Almacks.
The sisters, we have already said, were beautiful. They were all above the middle height, and finely formed; remarkably fair, with brilliant complexions, and very beautiful light brown hair.
Jane, the eldest, had her mother's amiable, mild, regular features, and soft, modest, hazel eyes.
Louisa, the second, much resembled her sister in the form of her features, except that her mouth was a very little larger, the lips fuller, and of a more vivid red, and the smile more conscious. Her eyes were of a grey colour, clear and sparkling; but in their expression there was too much of triumph, while her very blush had something in it of the same character; you felt, you knew not why, that it did not arise altogether from timidity.
Her beauty, however, was perfectly exquisite; there was a rich luxuriance, a beaming lustre about her whole appearance, which seemed to gain by contrast with others, whom, while viewed separately, you had thought as handsome. It was like the undefinable distinction between the brilliant and its best imitations, most clearly seen when subjected to the ordeal of comparison.
Madeline, the youngest, had a rounder face than her sisters, the features not quite so fine, yet lovely in their own perfectly innocent joyousness; while beautifying dimples accompanied her smiles, and fairy cupids danced in her laughing eyes.
The sisters always dressed alike: on the present occasion, they all wore white lace over white satin; the lighter or outer drapery looped up on one side with a bunch of white roses, mixed with lilies of the valley: and a few of the same flowers in the hair on the contrary side. A set of diamonds each, unusually costly for girls, but which, by a whim of their maternal grandfather, they happened to possess, were their only ornaments.
Lady Arden had never, since her widowhood, returned to colours; her invariable costume was black velvet; her diamonds, however, yielded in magnificence to those of royalty only. So that, what with the faces being quite new, and the appearance of the group altogether, not forgetting the handsome Alfred, was such as to excite considerable attention, even amid an assembly like the present, where youth, beauty, fashion, and splendour, habitually congregate.
Willoughby was too important a personage to form one of the family picture. He was in the room, however, having just arrived in attendance on a party with whom he had dined.
A young lady of remarkable beauty was leaning on his arm. He addressed her from time to time with great animation; while she appeared to listen with the most languid indifference. Young Lord Nelthorpe, one of their nearest neighbours at Arden, now approached our party. Jane had noticed him for some time, and, on first doing so, had coloured deeply. They had not met before since their arrival in town. He came up to our party, was very polite, and even friendly, but not quite as cordial as might have been expected. He conversed with Lady Arden for a little time. Music commenced, he made a slight bow, and moving quickly towards a lady at a little distance, led her to the quadrille. Jane had been so perfectly certain that he intended to dance with her, that when the music began, she had instinctively drawn her arm half way from within her mother's. Her disappointment was bitter, and arose from a feeling much deeper than the mere loss of a partner for the dance could have excited.
From her earliest childhood she had been in the habit of hearing her own family speak of Lord Nelthorpe as a very suitable match. As children together, they had been quite little lovers. Public schools and colleges had broken off this familiarity of intercourse. He had, however, since arriving at the age of manhood, often paid her a good deal of attention in the country, where he had nothing else to do; and in some of the summer evening walks of the young people, a declaration had more than once seemed to tremble on his lips; still nothing decided had passed; and poor Jane's heart had been given away, some couple of years before she had begun to doubt the sincerity of his attachment, or the certainty of their future union. And why was Jane mistaken? Because, society being artificially constituted, the language of nature cannot explain the motives which govern its members; nor our own feelings, till we too become sophisticated, teach us to calculate upon those of others.
The attention of Alfred was just at this moment attracted by the appearance of the younger of two ladies, who were standing at a little distance. They were evidently, from their striking resemblance, mother and daughter. The stature of both was rather above the middle height; that of the elder, from its queen-like carriage, and its being a little disposed to embonpoint, had a strikingly imposing and majestic effect; while that of the younger, though perfectly formed and beautifully rounded, was so delicate in its proportions, and so timid in its air, as to require comparison to convince the eye that the actual elevation was the same. The features of both were so regular, that it would be impossible for the scrutiny of the nicest artist, to discover a defect; but those of the elder were of a lustrous, conspicuous white, as though chiseled in Parian marble; those of the younger of a stainless transparency, as if modelled in the purest wax; the lips only of both were of a lively red; those of the elder, perhaps, a little too thin, but boasting the glossy scarlet of the coral; while those of the younger, full and bewitching in their expression, were of the tender tint of the rose's ambrosial centre. The hair, eye-brows, and eye-lashes of both were absolute jet; but while the firm braiding of the elder lady's tresses betrayed the usual defect of black hair—strength of texture—the raven ringlets of the younger rivalled the flaxen locks of childhood in their silken softness. The line of her eye-brow, too, was the most delicately penciled, and her eye-lashes the longest, or they seemed so, her eyes being cast down; while those of the elder lady were raised and fully visible. They were dark, large, and brilliant; but the supercilious vanity with which they moved slowly round, courting the universal admiration they drew towards them, without once shrinking from its glare, made it impossible for their lustre, splendid as it was, to reach any heart.
Alfred observed an elderly gentleman with whom he was acquainted join the two ladies, and converse for a time with the air of an old intimate of the elder. As soon as he quitted them Alfred joined him; and with as much circumlocution, preparation, and management, as though he had in view nothing less than the place of prime minister, demanded if he could venture