‘Hollingford!’ she said, laying her hand on his arm, and drawing him a little apart from the well-born crowd amid which he stood, silent and abstracted, ’you don’t know how these good people here have been hurt and disappointed with our being so late, and with the duchess’s ridiculous simplicity of dress.’

‘Why should they mind it?’ asked he, taking advantage of her being out of breath with eagerness.

’Oh, don’t be so wise and stupid; don’t you see, we’re a show and a spectacle—­it’s like having a pantomime with harlequin and columbine in plain clothes.’

‘I don’t understand how—­’ he began.

’Then take it upon trust.  They really are a little disappointed, whether they are logical or not in being so, and we must try and make it up to them; for one thing, because I can’t bear our vassals to look dissatisfied and disloyal, and then there’s the election in June.’

‘I really would as soon be out of the House as in it.’

’Nonsense; it would grieve papa beyond measure—­but there is no time to talk about that now.  You must go and dance with some of the townspeople, and I’ll ask Sheepshanks to introduce me to a respectable young farmer.  Can’t you get Captain James to make himself useful?  There he goes with Lady Alice!  If I don’t get him introduced to the ugliest tailor’s daughter I can find for the next dance!’ She put her arm in her brother’s as she spoke, as if to lead him to some partner.  He resisted, however—­resisted piteously.

’Pray don’t, Harriet.  You know I can’t dance.  I hate it; I always did.  I don’t know how to get through a quadrille.’

‘It’s a country dance!’ said she, resolutely.

’It’s all the same.  And what shall I say to my partner?  I haven’t a notion:  I shall have no subject in common.  Speak of being disappointed, they’ll be ten times more disappointed when they find I can neither dance nor talk!’

’I’ll be merciful; don’t be so cowardly.  In their eyes a lord may dance like a bear—­as some lords not very far from me are—­if he likes, and they’ll take it for grace.  And you shall begin with Molly Gibson, your friend the doctor’s daughter.  She’s a good, simple, intelligent little girl, which you’ll think a great deal more of, I suppose, than of the frivolous fact of her being very pretty, Clare! will you allow me to introduce my brother to Miss Gibson? he hopes to engage her for this dance.  Lord Hollingford, Miss Gibson!’

Poor Lord Hollingford! there was nothing for it but for him to follow his sister’s very explicit lead, and Molly and he walked off to their places, each heartily wishing their dance together well over.  Lady Harriet flew off to Mr. Sheepshanks to secure her respectable young farmer, and Mrs. Gibson remained alone, wishing that Lady Cumnor would send one of her attendant gentlemen for her.  It would be so much more agreeable to be sitting even at the fag-end of nobility than here on a bench with everybody; hoping that everybody would see Molly dancing away with a lord, yet vexed that the chance had so befallen that Molly instead of Cynthia was the young lady singled out; wondering if simplicity of dress was now become the highest fashion, and pondering on the possibility of cleverly inducing Lady Harriet to introduce Lord Albert Monson to her own beautiful daughter, Cynthia.