was equally disgusted, not only read my sentiments, but, by his countenance, communicated to me his own.
When dinner was over, Mrs. Beaumont recommended the gentlemen to the care of Lord Orville, and then attended the ladies to the drawing-room.
The conversation, till tea-time, was extremely insipid; Mrs. Selwyn reserved herself for the gentlemen, Mrs. Beaumont was grave, and Lady Louisa languid.
But, at tea, every body revived; we were joined by the gentlemen, and gaiety took the place of dullness.
Since I, as Mr. Lovel says, am Nobody, I seated myself quietly at a window, and not very near to any body: Lord Merton, Mr. Coverley, and Mr. Lovel, severally passed me without notice, and surrounded the chair of Lady Louisa Larpent. I must own, I was rather piqued at the behaviour of Mr. Lovel, as he had formerly known me. It is true, I most sincerely despise his foppery; yet I should be grieved to meet with contempt from any body. But I was by no means sorry to find, that Lord Merton was determined not to know me before Lady Louisa, as his neglect relieved me from much embarrassment. As to Mr. Coverley, his attention or disregard were equally indifferent to me. Yet, altogether, I feel extremely uncomfortable in finding myself considered in a light very inferior to the rest of the company.
But when Lord Orville appeared, the scene changed: he came up stairs last; and, seeing me sit alone, not only spoke to me directly, but drew a chair next mine, and honoured me with his entire attention.
He enquired very particularly after my health, and hoped I had already found benefit from the Bristol air. “How little did I imagine,” added he, “when I had last the pleasure of seeing you in town, that ill health would in so short a time have brought you hither! I am ashamed of myself for the satisfaction I feel at seeing you — yet, how can I help it?”
He then enquired after the Mirvan family, and spoke of Mrs. Mirvan in terms of most just praise. “She is gentle and amiable,” said he, “a true feminine character.”
“Yes, indeed,” answered I: “and her sweet daughter, to say every thing of her at once, is just the daughter such a mother deserves.”
“I am glad of it,” said he, “for both their sakes, as such near relations must always reflect credit or disgrace on each other.”
After this he began to speak of the beauties of Clifton; but, in a few moments, he was interrupted by a call from the company, to discuss the affair of the wager. Lord Merton and Mr. Coverley, though they had been discoursing upon the subject some time, could not fix upon the thing that satisfied them both.
When they asked the assistance of Lord Orville, he proposed that every body present should vote something; and that the two gentlemen should draw lots which, from the several votes, should decide the bet.
“We must then begin with the ladies,” said Lord Orville; and applied to Mrs. Selwyn.
“With all my heart,” answered she, with her usual readiness; “and, since the gentlemen are not allowed to risk their necks, suppose we decide the bet by their heads?”
“By our heads?” cried Mr. Coverley. “Egad, I don’t understand you.”
“I will then explain myself more fully. As I doubt not but you are both excellent classics, suppose, for the good of your own memories, and the entertainment and surprise of the company, the thousand pounds should fall to the share of him who can repeat by heart the longest ode of Horace?”
Nobody could help laughing, the two gentlemen applied to excepted; who seemed, each of them, rather at a loss in what manner to receive this unexpected proposal. At length Mr. Coverley, bowing low, said, “Will your Lordship please to begin?”
“Devil take me if I do!” answered he, turning on his heel, and stalking to the window.
“Come, gentlemen,” said Mrs. Selwyn, “why do you hesitate? I am sure you cannot be afraid of a weak woman? Besides, if you should chance to be out, Mr. Lovel, I dare say, will have the goodness to assist you.”
The laugh now turned against Mr. Lovel, whose change of countenance manifested no great pleasure at the transition.
“Me, Madam!” said he, colouring; “no, really I must beg to be excused.”
“Why so, Sir?”
“Why so, Ma’am! — Why, really — as to that — ‘pon honour, Ma’am, you are rather a little severe; — for how is it possible for a man who is in the house, to study the classics? I assure you, Ma’am, (with an affected shrug) I find quite business enough for my poor head in studying politics.”
“But, did you study politics at school, and at the university?”
“At the university!” repeated he, with an embarrassed look; “why, as to that, Ma’am — no, I can’t say I did; but then, what with riding — and — and — and so forth — really, one has not much time, even at the university, for mere reading.”
“But, to be sure, Sir, you have read the classics?”
“O dear, yes, Ma’am! — very often — but not very — not very lately.”
“Which of the Odes do you recommend to these gentlemen to begin with?”
“Which of the Odes! — Really, Ma’am, as to that, I have no very particular choice; — for, to own the truth, that Horace was never a very great favourite with me.”
“In truth I believe you!” said Mrs. Selwyn, very drily.
Lord Merton, again advancing into the circle, with a nod and a laugh, said, “Give you joy, Lovel!”
Lord Orville next applied to Mrs. Beaumont for her vote.
“It would very agreeably remind me of past times,” said she, “when bowing was in fashion, if the bet was to depend upon the best made bow.”
“Egad, my Lord,” cried Mr. Coverley, “there I should beat you hollow, for your Lordship never bows at all.”
“And pray, Sir, do you?” said Mrs. Selwyn.
“Do I, Ma’am?” cried he; “why, only see!”
“I protest,” cried she, “I should have taken that for a shrug, if you had not told me ’twas a bow.”
“My lord,” cried Mr. Coverley, “let’s practise;” and then, most ridiculously, they pranced about the room, making bows.
“We must now,” said Lord Orville, turning to me, “call upon Miss Anville.”
“O no, my Lord,” cried I; “indeed I have nothing to propose.” He would not, however, be refused; but urged me so much to say something, that at last, not to make him wait any longer, I ventured to propose an extempore couplet upon some given subject. Mr. Coverley instantly made me a bow, or, according to Mrs. Selwyn, a shrug, crying, “Thank you, Ma’am; egad, that’s my forte! — why, my Lord, the Fates seem against you.”
Lady
