Whilst Mordaunt was thus occupied at Oxford, Mrs. Sullivan had been indulging in a variety of speculations, the object of which were, to endeavour to secure to her beloved son the rich and beautiful heiress of Deane Hall. In order to afford him a favourable opportunity of paying his addresses to Miss Seymour, the anxious mother resolved to give the ball, for which he had personally taken the invitation; and as soon as Sir Henry had returned the desired answer, the preparations for the entertainment were without delay commenced. It was agreed nem. con. that a crowded entertainment was more fashionable than a select one; and therefore, that every person by any excuse pronounced visitable, within a circuit of twenty miles, was to be pressed into the service. Mr. Webberly, and the gentlemen who were staying with him, proceeded to York, to enlist as many beaux as they possibly could; whilst Mrs. Sullivan wrote to London, to engage temporary rooms, transparencies, coloured lamps, upholsterers, musicians, and confectioners.

For a fortnight before the important day, all was confusion at Webberly House. The usual furniture was put to flight;—bed-rooms were converted into tasteful card-rooms, and store-closets into beautiful boudoirs; whilst all the various operations were accompanied by an unceasing noise of hammering, scouring, scolding, and arguing.

Miss Webberly and her sister kept themselves aloof from the scene of action, preferring playing billiards, or riding with Mr. Sedley and the other gentlemen, to giving their mother the smallest assistance, who repented of her undertaking ten times a day. But Adelaide was not so selfish; and the moment she perceived Mrs. Sullivan's perplexity, she left her usual occupations to offer her assistance. "Well, well," thought Mrs. Sullivan, "I wish Meely and Cilly were as discreet as this poor child. But it isn't their faults, pretty dears. I never used them to no thrift; and, I dare say, her nose has been well kept to the grinding-stone, as the like of her ought. My daughters, God bless them, have got a rare spirit of their own!" (Would to Heaven it were a rare spirit!)

Miss Webberly thinking that chalking the floor of the dancing-room would afford a good opportunity for displaying her knowledge of the fine arts, at first joined Adelaide in the task; but quickly discovering that kneeling on bare boards was more fatiguing than classical, left her at the end of a quarter of an hour, to finish it alone, with a request not to be sparing in the introduction of the Webberly arms. No mention was made of the Sullivan honours; for, though that family traced its pedigree beyond the flood, it had never been heard of in London, and, therefore, was of no value.

At nine o'clock on the appointed evening Mrs. Sullivan entered the reception room; and seeing Adelaide already there, said, "That's right, Miss Wildenheim, you be's always ready. I never can get them there girls of mine to dishevel themselves in time. Will you be so kind as to help me to put out the lights in them there chandlers? They can stay unlit a bit, for none of the gentlemen ban't dressed yet, and we can light 'em again when the folk come to the door, you know—I loves to practise genteel economy." Adelaide executed her commission; and her companion then proceeded to examine her attire with the most minute attention; and, as her eye was attracted by the beautiful ornaments, which confined and were intermixed with her luxuriant hair, she exclaimed, "La! what fine pearls you have got on—your mother's I suppose, Miss." "Yes, madam," replied Adelaide, mournfully, "she had a great quantity of pearls, which were new set for my use," "Wery like, Miss, wery like," retorted the scornful lady; and, turning disdainfully from her, bustled off to another part of the room, muttering, "Oh the vickedness of this vorld!"

Adelaide was dressed in that last stage of real mourning, which, from its chaste contrast of colour, is perhaps the most elegant attire a beautiful female can wear, as it seems to throw a veil on the loveliness, which, in truth, it embellishes. Her mental, as well as personal charms, were softened by the same garb of sorrow; and perhaps their beauty,

was more winning than when they shone in their original brightness. She was roused from a train of sorrowful reflections, which the mention of her mother had occasioned in her mind, by a sound of carriages, and by Mrs. Sullivan exclaiming, "As sure as the devil's in Lunnon, here they be; Miss Wildenheim, do light that there candle brass, whilst I turn the cock of this here lamp;" and the task was but just accomplished, when a large party entered the room.

The coup d'oeil which Webberly House now presented was really beautiful; for from London every thing in the way of decoration, even taste, may be procured. The vestibule and apartments opening into it were ornamented with wreaths of flowers, laurels, and coloured lamps, and with beautifully designed and well executed transparencies. The windows were left open, and displayed the Chinese bridge splendidly illuminated, beaming like an arch of light in the surrounding darkness. The carved work of the porch was completely interlaced with wreaths of colored lamps; and not less splendid were the grotto and hermitage, which at a small distance from the house were fitted up to resemble the rooms of rival restaurateurs. At their entrance Cecilia had placed her own maid and footman, to distribute refreshments; and she had been busily employed for some days, in teaching them as much French as their capacity and her knowledge would permit them to acquire, for which the slang of the one, and the Cockney dialect of the other, admirably qualified them. A temporary canvass passage led to the station of these pseudo-Parisians, which soon became the favourite lounge of the evening, as the constant mistakes they made in the names of all the refreshments they presented excited so much laughter, that every set of visitors was sure to recommend another, to enjoy the bodily and mental entertainment provided for them.

When the company first assembled, a brilliant display of fire works was let off on the lawn, and just as the last rocket was ascending, Mrs. Martin and her niece entered the ball room. They had met with sundry difficulties, as to conveyances, which had delayed their arrival so long.

Unfortunately for them, the company had, at that instant, nothing more amusing to do, than seeking for subjects of ridicule; and in poor Lucy Martin's dress they found an ample field. Her ci-devant blue spencer had been transformed into a fashionable body for a new pink petticoat, under the superintendence of Miss Slater, who had informed her, that "whole gowns were quite out, as all the ladies in London now wore dolphin dresses," of which no two parts were of the same colour. Nearly all the finery of Mr. Slater's shop had been deposited on her person; and it would have been impossible for the greatest connoisseur in tinting to have decided which was the prevailing colour in her dress: but as she and her aunt were made happy, by the idea of her being "quite smart," her appearing to the rest of the company in a most ludicrous point of view would have been of no consequence, had not the unsuitable extravagance deprived them of many almost necessary comforts for a long time afterwards, for which the display of this evening but poorly compensated.

Before the unfeeling crowd had more than half finished their commentaries on the curious specimen of taste the unconscious girl exhibited, their attention was diverted by the arrival of Sir Henry Seymour, who with all the formality of the vieille cour entered the room, with a chapeau de bras under one arm, and Mrs. Galton leaning on the other. At her side walked Selina in unadorned loveliness, her eyes sparkling with delight at all the wonders that were presented to her view, and totally unsuspicious that she was herself the goddess of the fairy scene of pleasure. All eyes were fixed on her beaming countenance radiant in smiles; and even envy, for the moment, pardoned such unpresuming charms. Mr. Webberly had waited to open the ball with Selina, and immediately led her to the head of the room, where, scarcely conscious of the pre-eminence, her attention was so completely engrossed by all the beauty and variety of the decorations, that she neither listened to nor understood the fulsome compliments he momentarily addressed to her. Though little skilled in the fashionable art of dancing, the natural grace and vivacity of all her movements, and the uncommon loveliness of her person, more than compensated for this deficiency; and when she happened to make any mistake in the figures she was unaccustomed to, she laughed so innocently and so heartily at her own blunders, and in so doing displayed such dazzling teeth and evanescent dimples, that one more practised in the arts of coquetry would purposely have made the same errors, thus to have atoned them.

From the moment Miss Seymour had entered the room, Mr. Sedley had watched her every motion; and, as he happened to stand behind Webberly in the dance, he could not help exclaiming, "By Jove, Jack, if you get that girl you'll be a lucky dog." Webberly cast a glance on his lovely partner, in which real exultation was ridiculously blended with affected contempt; and shrugging his shoulders, replied, "She is half wild now, we must give her a little fashion when she comes amongst us." Sedley turned on his heel, and joined a groupe of young men, who were loudly expatiating on the charms he affected to despise. Sedley also joined in her praise; for as yet, though his warm admiration was excited, his heart was not sufficiently interested to create a wariness in the expression of its feelings; and as the whole party professed their anxiety to be introduced to her, he laughingly boasted of his prior claims, and hastened to secure her hand for the two following dances. And now, according to a writer of the days of Queen Bess, "Some ambled, and some skipped, and some minced it withal, and some were like the bounding doe, and some like the majestic lion."

Adelaide alone refused every solicitation to join in the festivity; and when Mrs. Temple urged her to accept of some of the numerous partners who contended for her fair hand, she replied, with a mournful expression, "Dear Mrs. Temple do not ask me; surely this dress was never meant for dancing;" so saying, she cast down her eyes to conceal their watery visitors. Sedley, who had overheard her observation, took this opportunity of examining her perfect features. He thought he had never seen her look so lovely as at that moment, for

and mentally exclaimed, "The braid of dark hair that borders that fair forehead, 'so calm, so pure, yet eloquent,' is indeed beautiful in contrast! Of all dresses certainly that becomes her most, it so harmonizes with the style of her countenance;

Sedley was proceeding to compare in thought the merits of blondine and brunette complexions, eyes of bewitching animation or touching softness, hair of glossy black or silken brown, and in short the various charms, which united to form the perfect models of the opposite styles of beauty which Selina and Adelaide presented, when he was diverted from this agreeable occupation by Mrs. Sullivan screaming in his ear, "Law! Mr. Sedley, I vish I vas O'fat (probably au fait) of what you're in such a brown study for; there's my daughter, Cilly, keeping herself enragÉ all this time to dance with you." Of course he could not refuse this summons, and immediately led her to join the dancers, scarcely regretting that the set was nearly finished.

When Cecilia passed by, overloaded with finery, and encumbered with ornament, Mrs. Temple exclaimed, "Good heavens! how that handsome girl has contrived to disfigure herself! It is no wonder her mother complained of her being so long dressing: I hope, my dear Miss Wildenheim, you will never give into such follies." Adelaide smilingly replied, "I cannot invert the first axiom of mechanics, and say of the labours of the toilet, that we gain in power what we lose in time." "Never, my dear girl, as long as you live, mention the word mechanics again, on pain of being pronounced a learned lady; which crime, in this country, is punished by tortures far more severe than the peine forte et dure of the old French law. I assure you, in England, the reputation of femme savante is scarcely less odious than that of femme galante. A fool with youth and beauty maybe quite recherchÉe, but no mental or bodily perfection can atone for the blemish of learning in a woman!" Mrs. Temple's attention was now attracted by seeing Mrs. Sullivan doing the honours to a soi-disant beau, who scarcely heard what she said, being intent on copying the air of real fashion so striking in Mr. Sedley. "This here's the courting room, Sir—That there's the refrigerating house for drinking o-shot—And that there's my daughter Meely, and that there other one's my Cilly—we calls one Grace and Dignity and the other Little Elegance—I'm sure you must allow we've given them wery opprobrious names.—Look'ee here, Sir, Meely did all this here topography herself[11], entirely from her own deceptions; I assure you, Sir, she's pro-digiars clever." Mrs. Temple, finding Mrs. Sullivan's discourse utterly subversive of all decorum of countenance, left the dangerous neighbourhood, and took Adelaide to walk about the room, for the double purpose of composing her own features, and informing her young friend of the names and characters of such of the guests as she was unacquainted with. "Who is that lovely innocent girl, sitting near the transparency of Mirth and her crew, with her head on one side, and her eyes cast down with so much modesty?" "I dare say, Miss Wildenheim, she is at this moment, with affected naÏvetÉ, saying something to the gentleman next her, which he finds unanswerable. She is a most incorrigible little flirt; and as she is no fool, her conversation is in my mind quite reprehensible. She was the daughter of a poor baronet of this county, and to counterbalance her want of fortune, was brought up in the most homely manner, being, for example, accustomed to iron her own clothes and go to market. Against the consent of her friends, she married a petit-maÎtre parson, with little except a handsome person and agreeable manners to recommend him, and nothing but a curacy to support him and his beautiful young wife. They now live with his mother, who takes care of their children, the father being too constantly occupied in fishing, hunting, and snoring, the mother in dressing, dancing, singing, and flirting, to find time for the discharge of their duty to their offspring. Delicate as she looks, she will go through any fatigue to attend a ball or party: I suppose you will scarcely believe, that she has walked eight miles this morning, carrying her own parcel, to be here to-night." Before Adelaide could offer any comment on this portrait, Mrs. Temple's attention was attracted by another acquaintance: "Why, bless me, (said she) there is old Mr. Marshall: what can have brought him here all the way from Kingston, to night? except, perhaps, to have the pleasure of seeing his daughters admired: and it would delight any father's heart to look at that beautiful creature in blue, now showing the very perfection of a lady's dancing. That little laughing girl standing beside her is her sister, who is one of the pleasantest creatures I ever knew."—"Oh!" said Adelaide, "I believe she is the Miss Marshall I met lately at Huntingfield, who gave vent to as many ideas in half an hour, as would serve an economist in speech for a week; I could not help applying to her Mrs. Sullivan's adage, that stores breed waste."

"And now, my dear Miss Wildenheim," resumed Mrs. Temple, as, weary of their promenade, they seated themselves, "if you are curious to inform yourself as to the beaux of this assembly, you have only to keep your eyes steadily fixed in the direction of that large mirror, and as they pass point them out to me; for I will venture to say there is hardly a young man in the room, who will not, in the course of the evening, stop opposite to it, and settle his cravat. Look there now, already! observe that youth adjusting his dress——I hope you saw the shake he gave his head when he had done, as if to ascertain whether he had any brains in it or not; much in the style of a thrifty housewife, who uses this method with her eggs, when she wishes to discover if any spark of animation lurks within. If he had applied to me," continued Mrs. Temple, "I could have saved him the trouble he has just put himself to, and would have solved the doubts the vacant countenance he saw in the glass excited, by answering in the negative without hesitation. This gentleman, at present, resides a few miles from hence, for the purpose of canvassing the town of——, in hopes to represent it in the next parliament. His travelling equipage is not exactly suited to the character of a British senator. In addition to the usual establishment of blinds, his carriage is fitted up on the outside with shades to save his complexion, and in the barouche seat are two monkeys trained to act as footmen. It is the received etiquette for every new candidate to make his dÉbut as patriot; he therefore, of course, talks loudly of 'Parliamentary reform:' perhaps he may have some ambitious views for the ape tribe; indeed I have heard it whispered, that one or two have been detected in both honourable houses before now."

Adelaide was much entertained by Mrs. Temple's volubility, but said she was inclined to differ from her friend as to the conclusion to be drawn from this singular cortÈge. "You know, my dear Mrs. Temple, to have 'grace enough to play the fool, craves wit,' sense is quite another affair; but I think it is only those that have at least some talent, who venture to take out this sort of temporary act of lunacy against themselves, well knowing they can give convincing proof of sanity when necessary. I have formed this conclusion from observing, that the English alone ever make these eccentric exhibitions; you will readily allow, that if any nation equals, none exceeds them in solid abilities. If the young gentleman in question is under twenty-five, I would risk something in favour of the contents of his head, on the strength of the two monkeys. What a pity Dr. Gall is not here to decide for us, by means of his soul-revealing touch; our craniologists, you know, tell us, they have wit, memory, sense, and judgment at their fingers' ends: it is to be hoped they have them elsewhere also." "What you say of Mr. B——," replied Mrs. Temple, "amazes me: I own, from you, who are one of the most rational of human beings in your own department, I expected no toleration of folly." "Oh, I think the case is far different in the conduct of women," said Adelaide: "our minds have not the strong re-active power those of men possess; they, in the regions of folly not unfrequently 'fall so hard, they bound and rise again,' but we are not sufficiently firm to possess such elasticity." "I believe you are right, my dear girl: would you like to visit the other apartments? I have not seen them yet." Miss Wildenheim consented with alacrity, and they accordingly proceeded towards the vestibule, where numerous groupes were promenading, as the dancing was for a time discontinued.

Adelaide, whilst amusing herself with Mrs. Temple's account of the company, by degrees herself became an object of general admiration. Although there were some women present of greater personal beauty than Miss Wildenheim, yet in her "La grÂce, plus belle encore que la beautÉ[12]," won the eye from the contemplation of more perfect loveliness. "Who is she?" was repeated from mouth to mouth, as she crossed the vestibule; and when nobody could answer the question, it was asked with increased earnestness. All agreed she was foreign, and that there was something not English in her countenance, her manner of wearing her dress, but above all in her walk. As an epidemical mania for every thing continental once more reigns in England, the idea that Adelaide was a foreigner, above all things, stamped her the belle of the night; she was followed from room to room, and wherever she turned innumerable eye-glasses were levelled at her. The attention she excited at last becoming perceptible even to herself, with a look of anxious inquiry she said to Mrs. Temple, "Is there any thing remarkable in my appearance, that those people stare so?" "Yes, my dear, something very remarkable." "Then pray, pray tell me what it is." "Your ignorance of it is one of your greatest charms, and I am not envious enough to wish to deprive you of any of them." This reply covered Adelaide with blushes, and adorned her with a hue, which was the only beauty her fine countenance did not usually possess. For sorrow had breathed witheringly on the roses, that once had bloomed on her soft cheek.—Will the voice of joy ever recal them from their exile?

The Webberly family, finding Adelaide the admiration of the company, now came up to her, not to show her kindness, but to show their guests she belonged to them; and their ostentatious civility provoked a smile of contempt from Mrs. Temple, who had been indignant at their previous neglect. Miss Wildenheim was soon surrounded by a crowd of beaux and belles, who addressed her in good, bad, or indifferent French, Italian, German, or Spanish—some from the polite wish of showing proper attention to a stranger, others from a natural curiosity as to subjects of foreign interest. But a large number, from the pure love of display, gave utterance to as many scraps of any foreign language as their memory furnished them with from books of dialogues or idioms; and, as soon as these were exhausted, found some urgent reason for retreating to the very opposite part of the room, taking care to keep at an awful distance from her for the rest of the night. Many a poor girl was brought forward by her mother, bon grÉ, mal grÉ, to display her philological acquirements. Adelaide happened to overhear part of a dialogue, preparatory to an exhibition of this sort. "Italian, mama! Indeed, indeed, I can't: besides it is quite unnecessary, for Mrs. Temple says she speaks English fluently." "But you know, love," replied the matron, "it is such good breeding to address strangers in their own language." "Yes, dear mama, it is indeed; she is a German, and, I dare say, doesn't understand Italian." "That doesn't signify, come and speak to her directly, Miss." "Pray, pray, let it be in French then," said the girl, half crying; "I have only learned Italian three months, and it's ten to one if I happen to know what she says to me." "Why, you know, Maria, when I brought Flo—Floril—(you could help me to the name if you chose)—but, in short, that travelling Italian you had your flowers of, to talk to you, he said he took you for a native; but you may speak Italian first, and French afterwards, and that will be a double practice, my dear." There was no reprieve;—and a very nice girl, colouring crimson deep from shame and anger, stammered out a sentence of wretched Italian, whilst the mother stood by with an air of triumph, to see her orders obeyed, and observe who was listening. Adelaide, pitying the poor girl's confusion, replied in French, apparently for her own ease, and addressed to her a few sentences, which afforded an opportunity of throwing in that everlasting self-congratulating "oui, oui," which is the young linguist's best ally, even more useful than Madame de Genlis' "Manuel du Voyageur," which, by the bye, an adept in short hand might have taken down that night. The young lady and her mother soon left Adelaide, both highly delighted; and, however unwilling the former had been to make the experiment mama had enjoined, she certainly thought much more highly of her own attainments after this happy result. Adelaide was then introduced to a gentleman who spoke French with as much fluency as herself, and they soon got into that style of conversation, to which the term spirituelle is so justly applied, where appropriate diction and elegant idea lend charms to each other: in the language to which she had from infancy been accustomed, she expressed herself with peculiar felicity, and seemed to take the same sort of pleasure in doing so one feels in meeting a long absent friend. Mrs. Temple was now a silent and wondering spectator, vainly endeavouring to find out how such a girl as Miss Wildenheim could have become an inmate of Mrs. Sullivan's family; and remarked that her manner and acquirements always rose to the level of the scene which called them forth. At that instant she acquitted herself with as much grace of all those dues of society, which the passing moment demanded, as she, with cheerful sweetness, contributed to the amusement of her friends in the quiet family circle at the parsonage. Mrs. Temple was half angry at the ease of her manner in such a situation; but when she again looked at Adelaide, observed her varying blushes, vainly watched for any symptom of coquetry or attempt at display; and at last caught an imploring glance, which seemed to say, like Sterne's starling, "I can't get out—pray relieve me," she felt the injustice of her incipient censures. She was for an instant prevented from obeying the summons, by an old general officer asking her, "If that young lady was any relation of the Baron Wildenheim, who so much distinguished himself at the battle of Hohenlinden, and so many other desperate encounters of the same campaign?" "Possibly his daughter," replied Mrs. Temple; "but pray don't direct any question of that nature to her; for whenever such subjects are alluded to, she seems deeply affected." When Mrs. Temple again took Adelaide's arm, she found Mr. Webberly importuning her to dance. Mrs. Sullivan had made him promise that morning not to ask Adelaide to dance, for fear of making Miss Seymour jealous! But he could no longer deny himself the pleasure, for which he had most looked forward to this evening; and, in spite of his mother's frowns and signs, (seldom indeed much attended to at Webberly House) he solicited Adelaide with much earnestness, to dance a set with him, which he offered to procure express before supper. But as she steadily refused, he, to solace himself, prevailed on a city cousin, (whose wealth procured her admittance to her aunt's house) and his sister Cecilia, to exhibit themselves as waltzers. Cecilia's partner was the soi-disant beau, who had been so indefatigable in his polygraphie of ton; and the travesty of Lady Eltondale and Sedley was inimitably ludicrous to those who had a key to the libel. The company had long been tired of quizzing poor innocent Lucy Martin; equally fatigued with the amusements provided for them; were almost weary of admiring and comparing Selina and Adelaide, most of the ladies by this time having discovered, that though the latter had a certain "je ne sais quoi" about her that was taking, her hair was too black, and her complexion too pale, for beauty; and that the loveliness of the former defied criticism—an unwilling confession, which rendered their first triumph nugatory; so that the waltzers afforded a very seasonable diversion. Nothing could be fancied more laughable than the undextrous twirling of the quartet; and few things are more worthy, in every respect, to be the subject of that spirit of ridicule which so unfortunately pervades every society, than this anti-Anglican dance. Mrs. Temple whispered to Adelaide,

How could Mrs. Temple be so ill bred as to whisper?—The whole thing is 'mauvais ton' no doubt some decorous belle now exclaims. Gentle reader, if thou hast never sacrificed thy friend or thy love of the exact truth to a joke, thou hast a right to vent thine indignation against this breach of etiquette. When thine ire is exhausted, proceed to read, and thou wilt find that the cause of thine indignation is at an end.—Supper was at length announced; the company were conducted into rooms laid out in the same style of ornamental profusion as those they had already visited. After supper, dancing was resumed with increased ardour, and continued to an early hour. When the company separated, they exchanged the glare of candles for the light of the sun; and the sound of the harp, tabret, and all manner of musical instruments, for the song of birds and the whistling of the husbandman.