Alice, or the Mysteries — Book 05

								

Or, on the other hand, could I have gone back to her years, and
sympathized with feelings that time has taught me to despise?  Better as
it is."
Influenced by these thoughts, the greeting of Maltravers disappointed and
saddened Evelyn, she knew not why; it was constrained and grave.
"Does not Miss Cameron look well?" whispered Mrs. Merton, on whose arm
the heiress leaned.  "You observe what a sensation she creates?"
Evelyn overheard, and blushed as she stole a glance at Maltravers.  There
was something mournful in the admiration which spoke in his deep earnest
eyes.
"Everywhere," said he, calmly, and in the same tone, "everywhere Miss
Cameron appears, she must outshine all others."  He turned to Evelyn, and
said with a smile, "You must learn to inure yourself to admiration; a
year or two hence, and you will not blush at your own gifts!"
"And you, too, contribute to spoil me!--fie!"
"Are you so easily spoiled?  If I meet you hereafter, you will think my
compliments cold to the common language of others."
"You do not know me,--perhaps you never will."
"I am contented with the fair pages I have already read."
"Where is Lady Raby?" asked Mrs. Merton.  "Oh, I see; Evelyn, my love, we
must present ourselves to our hostess."
The ladies moved on; and when Maltravers next caught a glance of Evelyn,
she was with Lady Raby, and Lord Vargrave also was by her side.
The whispers round him had grown louder.
"Very lovely indeed! so young, too! and she is really going to be married
to Lord Vargrave: so much older than she is,--quite a sacrifice!"
"Scarcely so.  He is so agreeable, and still handsome.  But are you sure
that the thing is settled?"
"Oh, yes.  Lord Raby himself told me so.  It will take place very soon."
"But do you know who her mother was?  I cannot make out."
"Nothing particular.  You know the late Lord Vargrave was a man of low
birth.  I believe she was a widow of his own rank; she lives quite in
seclusion."
"How d' ye do, Mr. Maltravers?  So glad to see you," said the quick,
shrill voice of Mrs. Hare.  "Beautiful ball!  Nobody does things like
Lord Raby; don't you dance?"
"No, madam."
"Oh, you young gentlemen are so fine nowadays!" (Mrs. Hare, laying
stress on the word young, thought she had paid a very elegant
compliment, and ran on with increased complacency.)
"You are going to let Burleigh, I hear, to Lord Doltimore,--is it true?
No! really now, what stories people do tell.  Elegant man, Lord
Doltimore!  Is it true, that Miss Caroline is going to marry his
lordship?  Great match!  No scandal, I hope; you'll excuse me!  Two
weddings on the tapis,--quite stirring for our stupid county.  Lady
Vargrave and Lady Doltimore, two new peeresses.  Which do you think is
the handsomer?  Miss Merton is the taller, but there is something fierce
in her eyes.  Don't you think so?  By the by, I wish you joy,--you'll
excuse me."
"Wish me joy, madam?"