But nature never framed a woman's heart
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice;
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes,
Misprising what they look on; and her wit
Values itself so highly, that to her
All matter else seems weak.
MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

"Well, ma mie, and what is it?" asked Harriet, as Margaret came hastily into her room while she was dressing for the ball. "Any-thing gone wrong with the blush roses."

"I am come about some blush roses," said Margaret, holding out a beautiful bouquet. "I do not know how it is, Harriet, but I found these on my toilet when I went up to dress."

"And who do you think gave me these carnations," asked Harriet, pointing to a splendid cluster of those flowers placed in a glass vase. "The fairies have matched our trimmings, that is all, Margaret. Blush roses for you—carnations for me."

"No, but is it your doing, Harriet?" asked Margaret earnestly.

"Faith, no;" said Harriet laughing, "who do you suspect; Mr. Humphries has not the wit, though you have so barbarously—"

"Harriet! do not accuse me."

"I do not know who would think me worth a bouquet," said Harriet, going composedly on with her toilet; "perhaps young Vesey, or Sir Hawarth Fane. I should not wonder if it were Sir Hawarth. I hope not, though."

"But it is so very disagreeable," said Margaret, "to be obliged to any one for a bouquet. I had much rather not wear it."

"Nonsense, child, it is quite proper—flowers, you know; if it were jewels it would be quite another thing. I dare say, after all, it comes from George Gage; eh! Charlotte?"

"La, Miss Conway! how you do startle one."

"Yes, he bribed you to place these two nosegays on our tables."

"Well, Miss Conway, it is no use denying any-thing to you."

"There, Margaret, now your mind is at rest, go back and dress. What splendid hair you have, child."

Mr. Singleton was loud in his commendations of the two young ladies. He was to accompany them. Mr. Gage and Mr. Humphries went together. It appeared to Margaret that Mr. Singleton was asleep in his corner of the carriage, and she could not forbear whispering to Harriet. "Do be civil to Mr. Gage, to-night."

"Why, so I am always, am I not?" said Harriet, "civil as an orange."

"Oh! not to-day at dinner."

"I am sure I said nothing," said Harriet.

"No, it was your manner."

"Well, he was rude too," returned Harriet, "why did he not ask me to dance?"

"Because," said Margaret, "he took it for granted you would refuse him."

"He had no business to take it for granted," was Harriet's perverse reply; "if he does ask me now, I shall certainly decline."

It was an excellent ball; the room was very prettily got up, and all the families of any consideration, far and near, were present. Mr. Singleton and the two ladies became at once an object of great attention. They were remarkably well dressed, and their style of beauty, so opposite and so distinguished, that every one was employed in passing an opinion upon them. Several people came up to Mr. Singleton, and asked eagerly who was the beautiful girl with the crown of blush roses. Mr. Singleton informed them that she was a Miss Capel—very good family—charming girl —excellent fortune—great friend of Harriet's. Almost all the ladies present disliked Harriet, and were delighted at the opportunity to set up a rival beauty. Had Margaret been poor, this would have been difficult; the men would have called her a pretty girl, and passed on to dance with somebody else; but as it was, Margaret was pronounced the belle of the ball-room, and besieged with requests for her hand from all quarters. She was engaged for the first quadrille, and was quite puzzled to remember and distinguish the numerous applicants for the succeeding dances. Mr. Gage entreated her to remember that her promise to dance with him was of very long standing, and having renewed it for the next waltz, he turned to Harriet, and begged for the honour of her hand. She was talking with her uncle, and just looked round with the words "Engaged, Mr. Gage." He bowed, and stepped back, and one of her numerous acquaintances coming up at the moment, she walked off with him to the dancers.

Margaret danced very quietly and well; Harriet's dancing was superb. She was light as air, and the precision of her steps, and the foreign expression and grace of her movements, excited universal attention.

When waltzing began, and she floated round the room on the arm of a young Spaniard who had just been introduced to her, and who had been staying at Sir Evan Conway's, there was quite a crowd collected to watch her and her partner. Directly Harriet became aware of this, she stopped, retired within the circle with her companion, and there stood talking with him in Spanish until the dance was over. This was not from any feeling of bashfulness, but because she did not choose to exhibit for the amusement of the company.

"In England," as she said haughtily to her partner, "if one dances a little better than a bear, one is actually mobbed in a ball-room!"

As soon as the waltz was over, the young Count led Harriet to her seat, and stood politely by her side, holding her flowers, and talking of the carnations of Andalusia. Harriet selected one of the finest, pulled it out of her bouquet, and gave it him. The Count very respectfully kissed her hand (a common courtesy in Spain), and placed the flower in his coat.

It may be supposed how excited all the ladies were. They never had seen in all their lives, such very indecorous behaviour in a public room. They really thought she ought to be desired to withdraw; and their anger was all the more pointed, as the Conde de F. was very distinguished in his appearance—was interesting from having taken an active part in some of the late Spanish squabbles, and was such a waltzer as no Englishman need ever hope to be.

George Gage, who was standing beside Margaret, after looking arrogantly into every corner of the room, said that he had formerly thought the T—— ball very respectable, but that really to-night there was hardly a soul that one knew; and such a very—singular—set of beings, that he wondered how the two or three ladies who were present could find a change of partners. That, perhaps, as they knew nobody, Miss Capel would not object to honour him by taking another turn with him, when the next quadrille was over;—there was this advantage in waltzing, that you were not mixed up during the dance with Heaven knows who; and obliged, perhaps, to give your hand to a hair-dresser in passing. Margaret looked very arch during this speech, but she offered no opposition to Mr. Gage's remarks. She was, still, half afraid of him. She could not help seeing that he interrupted himself half-a-dozen times during his speech to bow to different people who had the honour of his acquaintance; and the thought crossed her mind, that a hair-dresser was not very likely to gain admittance to a county ball.

Every moment some one or other was coming up to Harriet to solicit her hand. Some she refused, some she evaded, some she put on her list. She was engaged in a sparkling conversation with the Spanish nobleman, which grew every moment more and more animated.

The Conde had come to the ball solely for the chance of meeting the Senorita, and she seemed determined to make it as agreeable to him as possible.

Mr. Singleton brought Margaret a partner, who had been very eager for an introduction. He was next to Harriet in the Mazourka, which was still rare enough to excite a good deal of attention. Every one not engaged in the figure stood round to watch the dancers. Mr. Gage, with Margaret's bouquet in his hand, leaned against a pillar, following with his eyes the graceful movements of Harriet and the Conde. A party, who had just entered the room, made their way into the front of the circle, and as Margaret was standing while Harriet and her partner were in the centre, the Conde on his knee, and Harriet passing round him, she heard a loud assured voice exclaim, "Heavens, Collins! what a handsome man."

She turned her head, and beheld a large middle-aged woman, with red hair, and a very plain face, extravagantly dressed, and leaning on the arm of a very young man, apparently under twenty. She was in a lace dress of great value, with a gold cord and tassels round her waist, and her arms loaded with bracelets, while the front of her dress was decorated with beetles, locusts, scorpions, and other reptiles in jewellery, after a fashion that was then making a great noise in Paris. The young man held a gold pomander-box and a flaÇon, with the lady's bouquet and handkerchief: an elderly man stood a little behind with an Indian shawl over his arm.

"They are foreigners," said Mr. Collins, directing his glass towards Harriet and the Conde.

"Is he not handsome?" asked the lady.

"I think the girl the best looking," returned the young man.

"No—do you? Fan me, Collins, there's a good soul."

Mr. Collins unfurled her fan, fringed with swansdown, and proceeded to fan the "large lady."

"Is there any one here one knows?" said the lady, turning her head a little towards the elderly man.

"No, my dear, I think not," he replied.

"Ah, dear Paris!" said the lady, with a powerful sigh.

"Ah!" returned Mr. Collins.

"Could not we sit down somewhere?" asked the lady.

Way was made for her through the circle, and she sank on a bench. Mr. Collins stood fanning her.

"Do go and look for some ice, Collins, I am perishing with heat," said the lady.

"I'll try," replied the obedient Mr. Collins.

"That's a pretty modest girl—there—with the blush roses," said the lady, addressing her husband.

"Yes, my love," returned the good gentleman.

"What time did you order the carriage?"

"At two, dearest."

"What ice is this, Collins? Pine? Oh! it's pretty good; as well as one can expect in this remote corner of the earth. There, I feel better now."

Mr. Collins obsequiously held her ice-plate. "Will you dance to-night?" he asked, leaning over her.

"Why—I think I will take a few turns when the waltzing begins," she replied.

The Mazourka finished, Margaret went to claim her bouquet of Mr. Gage; but to her dismay, she found him leaning against the pillar in profound thought, and the floor quite strewn with the delicate leaves of her blush roses. He started on seeing her; seemed rather confused, a most unusual thing for him, and began to attempt some apology for his depredations.

He could only hope that Miss Capel would not again leave him to the mercy of his own reflections, now that she saw how badly he employed his leisure. He scarcely knew how to palliate his offence, for he was aware of the importance of a lady's bouquet.

Margaret, smiling archly, received the remains of her bouquet with a very good grace, and said that she suspected Mr. Gage had a better right to dispose of the flowers than she had.

He replied by a gracious bow and smile, and begged her with much humility to allow him to conduct her to the refreshment room.

There they found Harriet and the Spanish Count, standing eating ice and wafers. Harriet laughing and talking, the Conde keeping his eyes fixed upon her with that watchful admiration, that is very nearly allied to a more tender feeling.

Harriet turned quickly round to Margaret, leaned close to her ear, and exclaimed:

"My dear Margaret, such a discovery! Did you notice a large woman, superbly dressed, who came in during the Mazourka?"

"Yes," replied Margaret.

"Mrs. Maxwell Dorset, my dear!" said Harriet enforcing her words with a tap of her fan.

Margaret's face expressed, in a slight degree, her unspeakable surprise at this piece of news.

"A fact, my dear," resumed Harriet. "I am going to ask George to introduce me to her."

Margaret caught her friend by the arm as she was pressing forward.

"Harriet! you cannot be in earnest," she exclaimed, "you must be jesting—such a character. I am sure no friend of yours would present you."

"What a very innocent little soul!" said Harriet, drawing back, with a touch of scorn in her voice. "The lady's character is as fair as yours or mine. You may impeach her taste, Margaret, but not her virtue, for there stands her guarantee—her husband, good easy man! She merely takes presents of value from her admirers, instead of bouquets, like you and I. 'Men's eyes were made to gaze,' ma mie, and a beautiful woman may be admired, I hope, without being sent to Coventry for the offence."

"But after all that has past, Harriet," said Margaret, imploringly, "indeed, it would be very wrong to ask Mr. Gage."

"My dear, let 'bygones be bygones,'" said Harriet with an air of decision. "I wish Mr. Gage you would introduce me to that lady opposite—Mrs. Maxwell Dorset. I have a great inclination to become ac quainted with her." Harriet spoke with unusual suavity of manner.

Mr. Gage raised his eyebrows and looked at her for a moment with astonishment, and then without losing his self-possession, as she had hoped, he replied that he very much regretted it was entirely out of his power to comply with Miss Conway's request.

Harriet's eyes flashed fire; she turned away and went back to the ball-room, where she directly engaged Margaret to dance with the Conde de F—— who was still in attendance upon her, and then after looking round on every side for some means of annoyance, she said calmly as if to herself, "I shall dance with Sir Hawarth Fane when he comes to ask me."

Mr. Gage, who well knew that this speech was pointed at him, remarked coldly, that he believed he had heard Sir Evan express a very decided opinion upon that subject.

Harriet looking every moment more resolute, repeated, "I shall dance with Sir Hawarth Fane."

Now the fact was, that Sir Hawarth Fane was one of the worst characters in the county, but he was a single man of large property, and therefore very well received in most families. He had given some decided proofs of admiration for Harriet; but Sir Evan had always required her to receive them as coldly as possible. Even Mr. Singleton had often begged her "for God's sake never to dance with that fellow Hawarth Fane."

Harriet received his homage as her due, had it been ten times more marked; treated him with the easy neglect she generally assumed towards her admirers, and never danced with him, for the single reason that he was forty years old, and had a red face.

Margaret could only hope that he would not make his appearance, but soon a stout figure was seen to emerge from the door-way, and with his glass in his eye, to look eagerly about for some one. Mr. Gage looked as resolute as Harriet, and both turned their eyes in the direction of the advancing Baronet. Margaret was breathless. Harriet drew her handkerchief through the jewelled ring hanging to her bouquetiÉre, and settled herself as if she meant to prepare for the next dance. It was quite clear, both to Mr. Gage and Margaret, that she had made up her mind. Mr. Gage looked like Creon, and Harriet like Antigone—neither spoke. Sir Hawarth who had been blundering about the room with his eye-glass, very much like a person who had sat a good deal too long after dinner, now caught sight of Harriet, and steered his course in her direction. Mr. Gage leaned over Margaret, and whispered to her:

"Miss Capel, the man is a thorough blackguard; he shall not dance with Harriet. If you cannot prevent it—I will."

Margaret looked up at him with such a glance of quick intelligence, as he could not have believed her to possess.

"Harriet!" she said, as Sir Hawarth neared them, "if you dance with that man, I will leave Singleton Manor to-morrow morning."

"You!" said Harriet, turning quickly upon her.

"I will," returned Margaret.

"I dare say," said Harriet laughing scornfully, "but I won't let you. I will lock you up in the store-room among the apricots."

"I am in earnest," said Margaret, "take your choice."

"The pleasure of dancing the next quadrille with you, Miss Conway," said Sir Hawarth Fane, evidently rather intoxicated.

"Engaged, Sir Hawarth," replied Harriet in some confusion, her colour rose, her breath grew short, she was evidently in much agitation.

"Engaged! I am deucedly sorry for that," said Sir Hawarth in a thick voice, "I'll wait till after this quadrille, and perhaps I may prevail on you to galop with me afterwards."

He certainly looked in a charming condition for a galop. Harriet replied that she was really sorry, but that they were to leave the ball-room after the next dance.

Sir Hawarth muttered something about his being in confounded ill-luck; and that there was not another woman in the room worth dancing with.

"And pray," he whispered, "could not you be off your engagement? Is it any very particular person? Who is it, if I may be so bold?"

The dancers were collecting; Harriet, not knowing how to answer, and aware that he was not quite composed in his mind, glanced uneasily round the room. Mr. Gage coming forward in the most natural manner, said easily:

"Now, Miss Conway, if you will do me the honour—"

Harriet took his arm, and joined the dancers.

"Oh!" said Sir Hawarth, satisfied that her plea of an engagement was genuine.

Harriet's anger was magnificent. She felt that for once she had lost her self-command, when she excused herself on the plea of being engaged; she, who never hesitated to refuse a partner upon the most trivial reason, and frequently upon no reason at all; and whose right to do so was tolerably well established. She to commit herself! To put herself in the power of Mr. Gage—to be obliged to dance with him to cover a blunder of her own. It was insupportable.

Mr. Gage moved through the figure as carelessly as possible. Harriet never danced a step, hardly vouchsafed her fingers' ends, when it was requisite to give her hand, and never directed to him a single glance from those stormy, dark eyes, that seemed to burn beneath her haughty brows. She never uttered a word even to those about her, but employed herself in opening and shutting her emblazoned fan with the jerk peculiar to Spanish women, which movement completely diverted the eyes of the Conde from his partner to herself. It brought his country more completely home to him than even the pure Castilian in which she had been so ably conversing.

As soon as the quadrille was over, and before the dancers had time to disperse, Harriet turned from her partner without the slightest gesture of acknowledgment, and making a sign to Margaret, walked into the cloak-room, followed by seven or eight gentlemen, more or less in despair at her early departure. She suffered the Conde to put on her shawl, and hand her into the carriage, and parted from him with a smile, and a verse from Calderon. Mr. Humphries and Mr. Gage both attended Margaret, and then got into their own conveyance.

There was a profound silence for a short time. Mr. Singleton felt that something was wrong, and was really so much under the dominion of his niece, that he hardly ventured to make a remark. At last he made bold to say that it was a very good ball.

"Very," replied Margaret.

Harriet said nothing.

Mr. Singleton then complimented Margaret upon the number of hearts she had won, and said he expected to be besieged the next day by her different suitors.

Margaret said that Mr. Singleton was very flattering, and thought no more of the effect she was said to have produced.

"Well, Harriet," said Mr. Singleton after he had cleared his throat two or three times, "you were rather in a hurry to come away this evening."

"Yes, Sir," returned Harriet, in a short decided tone.

"How was that, eh?" asked her uncle.

"I was bored," returned Harriet as shortly as before.

This was conclusive, and an ominous silence prevailed. Margaret feared that Harriet was mortally offended with her, and began to think that her threat of leaving Singleton Manor the next day might come to be put in practice. She felt constrained—distressed. There was not light enough to see Harriet's face, and she hardly knew how to end her suspense. At last she timidly put her hand into that of her wilful friend. Harriet snatched hold of it, and pressed it suddenly to her lips. Margaret was almost affected to tears by this little incident. She hoped that the storm had blown over, but she was satisfied that, at least, Harriet's displeasure did not extend to her.

As soon as the carriage door was opened, Harriet sprang out without waiting for the steps to be let down, and dashed through the hall into the drawing-room. Mr. Singleton saying something about "a storm brewing," handed Margaret out and followed his niece.

She took up her night-candle, nodded to her uncle and beckoned Margaret to follow her. As soon as she reached her dressing-room, she began in silence to take off her ornaments from her dress and hair. Then she held out her hand at a little distance, and watched it for a few moments with great attention. It trembled.

"Margaret, ma mie," said she, raising her head. "I am going to be ill; will you mind sleeping with me for once?"

Margaret willingly gave her consent. Harriet stooped over her desk, and hastily wrote a few lines on a scrap of paper.

"If I am hors-de-combat to-morrow, Margaret," she said, "give this to Mr. Gage."

A stamp of her slender foot, as she pronounced his name, was the only indication of feeling that she betrayed.

Margaret really did not know if it was a cartel of defiance, but she thought it better to promise compliance. "Then kiss me, ma mie, and go to sleep," said Harriet, "we will talk over our adventures to-morrow."