There was at last a change: Roger had half a hundred questions to ask about his cousins and all the neighbours.
"And has Philip Carey set up for himself at Allonfield? Does he get any practice? I have a great mind to be ill; it would be such a joke to be doctored by Master Philip!"
"Ah! to think of your taking Mr. Frederick for poor Philip," said Jessie. "I assure you," nodding to Fred, "I take it as a great compliment, and so will Philip."
"And is Fanny Evans as pretty as ever?"
"Oh! grown quite fat and coarse," said Jessie; "but you may judge for yourself on Monday. Dear Mrs. Langford is so kind as to give us a regular Christmas party, and all the Evanses and Dittons are coming. And we are to dance in the dining-room, the best place for it in the county; the floor is so much better laid down than in the Allonfield assembly-room."
"No such good place for dancing as the deck of a frigate," said Roger. "This time last year we had a ball on board the Euphrosyne at Rio. I took the prettiest girl there in to supper-don't be jealous, Jessie, she had not such cheeks as yours. She was better off there than in the next ball where I met her, in the town. She fancied she had got rather a thick sandwich at supper: she peeped in, and what do you think she found? A great monster of a cockroach, twice as big as any you ever saw."
"O, you horrid creature!" cried Jessie, "I am sure it was your doing. I am sure it was your doing. I am sure you will give me a scorpion, or some dreadful creature! I won't let you take me in to supper on Monday, I declare."
"Perhaps I won't have you. I mean to have Cousin Henrietta for my partner, if she will have me."
"Thank you, Cousin Roger," faltered Henrietta, blushing crimson, with the doubt whether she was saying the right thing, and fearing Jessie might be vexed. Her confusion was increased the next moment, as Roger, looking at her more fully than he had done before, went on, "Much honoured, cousin. Now, all of you wish me joy. I am safe to have the prettiest girl in the room for my partner. But how slow of them all not to have engaged her before. Eh! Alex, what have you to say for yourself?"
"I hope for Queen Bee," said Alex.
"And Jessie must dance with me, because I don't know how," said Carey.
"My dears, this will never do!" interposed grandmamma. "You can't all dance with each other, or what is to become of the company? I never heard of such a thing. Let me see: Queen Bee must open the ball with little Henry Hargrave, and Roger must dance with Miss Benson."
"No, no," cried Roger, "I won't give up my partner, ma'am; I am a privileged person, just come home. Knight Sutton has not had too much of Henrietta or me, so you must let us be company. Come, Cousin Henrietta, stick fast to your engagement; you can't break the first promise you ever made me. Here," proceeded he, jumping up, and holding out his hand, "let us begin this minute; I'll show you how we waltz with the Brazilian ladies."
"Thank you, Cousin Roger, I cannot waltz," said Henrietta.
"That's a pity. Come, Jessie, then."
If the practice of waltzing was not to be admired, there was something which was very nice in the perfect good humour with which Jessie answered her cousin's summons, without the slightest sign of annoyance at his evident preference of Henrietta's newer face.
"If I can't waltz, I can play for you," said Henrietta, willing not to seem disobliging; and going to the piano, she played whilst Roger and Jessie whirled merrily round the room, every now and then receiving shocks against the furniture and minding them not the least in the world, till at last, perfectly out of breath, they dropped laughing upon the sofa.
The observations upon the wild spirits of sailors ashore then sank into silence; Mrs. Roger Langford reproved her son for making such a racket, as was enough to kill his Aunt Mary; with a face of real concern he apologised from the bottom of his heart, and Aunt Mary in return assured him that she enjoyed the sight of his merriment.
Grandmamma announced in her most decided tone that she would have no waltzes and no polkas at her party. Roger assured her that there was no possibility of giving a dance without them, and Jessie seconded him as much as she ventured; but Mrs. Langford was unpersuadable, declaring that she would have no such things in her house. Young people in her days were contented to dance country dances; if they wanted anything newer, they might have quadrilles, but as to these new romps, she would not hear of them.
And here, for once in her life, Beatrice was perfectly agreed with her grandmamma, and she came to life again, and sat forward to join in the universal condemnation of waltzes and polkas that was going on round the table.
With this drop of consolation to her, the party broke up, and Jessie, as she walked home to Sutton Leigh, found great solace in determining within herself that at any rate waltzing was not half so bad as dressing up and play-acting, which she was sure her mamma would never approve.
Beatrice came to her aunt's room, when they went upstairs, and petitioned for a little talk, and Mrs. Frederick Langford, with kind pity for her present motherless condition, accepted her visit, and even allowed her to outstay Bennet, during whose operations the discussion of the charade, and the history of the preparations and contrivances gave subject to a very animated conversation.
Then came matters of more interest. What Beatrice seemed above all to wish for, was to relieve herself by the expression of her intense dislike to the ball, and all the company, very nearly without exception, and there were few elders to whom a young damsel could talk so much without restraint as to Aunt Mary.
The waltzing, too, how glad she was that grandmamma had forbidden it, and here Henrietta chimed in. She had never seen waltzing before; had only heard of it as people in their quiet homes hear and think of the doings of the fashionable world, and in her simplicity was perfectly shocked and amazed at Jessie, a sort of relation, practising it and pleading for it.
"My dear!" said Beatrice, laughing, "I do not know what you would do if you were me, when there is Matilda St. Leger polka-ing away half the days of her life."
"Yes, but Lady Matilda is a regular fashionable young lady."
"Ay, and so is Jessie at heart. It is the elegance, and the air, and the society that are wanting, not the will. It is the circumstances that make the difference, not the temper."
"Quite true, Busy Bee," said her aunt, "temper may be the same in very different circumstances."
"But it is very curious, mamma," said Henrietta, "how people can be particular in one point, and not in another. Now, Bee, I beg your pardon, only I know you don't mind it, Jessie did not approve of your skating."
"Yes," said Beatrice, "every one has scruples of his own, and laughs at those of other people."
"Which I think ought to teach Busy Bees to be rather less stinging," said Aunt Mary.
"But then, mamma," said Henrietta, "we must hold to the right scruples, and what are they? I do not suppose that in reality Jessie is less-less desirous of avoiding all that verges towards a want of propriety then we are, yet she waltzes. Now we were brought up to dislike such things."
"O, it is just according to what you are brought up to," said Beatrice. "A Turkish lady despises us for showing our faces: it is just as you think it."
"No, that will not do," said Henrietta. "Something must be actually wrong. Mamma, do say what you think."
"I think, my dear, that woman has been mercifully endowed with an instinct which discerns unconsciously what is becoming or not, and what- ever at the first moment jars on that sense is unbecoming in her own individual case. The fineness of the perception may be destroyed by education, or wilful dulling, and often on one point it may be silent, though alive and active on others."