Alice, or the Mysteries — Book 05

								

In all the gayety of hope, in the pride of dress and half-conscious
loveliness, Evelyn went with a light step into Caroline's room.  Miss
Merton had already dismissed her woman, and was seated by her
writing-table, leaning her cheek thoughtfully on her hand.
"Is it time to go?" said she, looking up.  "Well, we shall put Papa, and
the coachman, and the horses, too, in excellent humour.  How well you
look!  Really, Evelyn, you are indeed beautiful!" and Caroline gazed with
honest but not unenvious admiration at the fairy form so rounded and yet
so delicate, and the face that seemed to blush at its own charms.
"I am sure I can return the flattery," said Evelyn, laughing bashfully.
"Oh, as for me, I am well enough in my way: and hereafter, I dare say, we
may be rival beauties.  I hope we shall remain good friends, and rule the
world with divided empire.  Do you not long for the stir, and excitement,
and ambition of London?---for ambition is open to us as to men!"
"No, indeed," replied Evelyn, smiling; "I could be ambitious, indeed; but
it would not be for myself, but for--"
"A husband, perhaps; well, you will have ample scope for such sympathy.
Lord Vargrave--"
"Lord Vargrave again?" and Evelyn's smile vanished, and she turned away.
"Ah," said Caroline, "I should have made Vargrave an excellent wife--pity
he does not think so!  As it is, I must set up for myself and become a
maitresse femme.  So you think I look well to-night?  I am glad of
it--Lord Doltimore is one who will be guided by what other people say."
"You are not serious about Lord Doltimore?"
"Most sadly serious."
"Impossible! you could not speak so if you loved him."
"Loved him! no! but I intend to marry him."
Evelyn was revolted, but still incredulous.
"And you, too, will marry one whom you do not love--'tis our fate--"
"Never!"
"We shall see."
Evelyn's heart was damped, and her spirits fell.
"Tell me now," said Caroline, pressing on the wrung withers, "do you not
think this excitement, partial and provincial though it be--the sense of
beauty, the hope of conquest, the consciousness of power--better than the
dull monotony of the Devonshire cottage?  Be honest--"
"No, no, indeed!" answered Evelyn, tearfully and passionately; "one hour
with my mother, one smile from her lips, were worth it all."
"And in your visions of marriage, you think then of nothing but roses and
doves,--love in a cottage!"
"Love in a home, no matter whether a palace or a cottage," returned
Evelyn.
"Home!" repeated Caroline, bitterly; "home,--home is the English synonym
for the French ennui.  But I hear Papa on the stairs."
A ballroom--what a scene of commonplace! how hackneyed in novels! how
trite in ordinary life! and yet ballrooms have a character and a
sentiment of their own, for all tempers and all ages.  Something in the
lights, the crowd, the music, conduces to stir up many of the thoughts
that belong to fancy and romance.  It is a melancholy scene to men after