If she had been any one else she would
have been a hideous spectacle in the eyes of the exquisitely tasteful
Lady Belamour, who, detecting the expression in her son's eye,
whispered behind her fan, "We will soon set all that right;" then
aloud, "My son cannot recover from his surprise. He did not imagine
that we could steal you for an evening from Queen's Square to procure
him this delight." Then as Sir Amyas bowed, "The Yellow Room is
cleared for dancing. Lady Belle will favour you, Amyas."
"You must excuse me, madam," he said; "I have not yet the free use of
my arm, and could not acquit myself properly in a minuet."
"I hate minuets," returned Lady Belle; "the very notion gives me the
spleen."
"Ah, pretty heretic!" said my Lady, making a playful gesture with her
fan at the peony-coloured cheek. "I meant this wounded knight to have
converted you, but he must amuse you otherwise. What, my Lord I
thought you knew I never meant to dance again. Cannot you open the
dance without me? I, who have no spirits!"
The rest was lost as she sailed away on the arm of a gentleman in a
turquoise-coloured coat, and waistcoat embroidered with gillyflowers;
leaving the Lady Arabella on the hands of her son, who, neither as
host nor gentleman, could escape, until the young lady had found some
other companion.
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