The Absentee by Maria Edgeworth Page B

excessively fashionable in each of
its parts, was, all together, so extraordinarily unbecoming as to be fit
for a print-shop. The perception of this, added to the effect of Mrs.
Dareville's mimicry, was almost too much for Lady Langdale; she could
not possibly have stood it, but for the appearance of Miss Nugent at
this instant behind Lady Clonbrony. Grace gave one glance of indignation
which seemed suddenly to strike Mrs. Dareville. Silence for a moment
ensued, and afterwards the tone of the conversation was changed.
    'Salisbury!—explain this to me,' said a lady, drawing Mr. Salisbury
aside. 'If you are in the secret, do explain this to me; for unless I
had seen it, I could not have believed it. Nay, though I have seen it, I
do not believe it. How was that daring spirit laid? By what spell?'
    'By the spell which superior minds always cast on inferior spirits.'
    'Very fine,' said the lady, laughing, 'but as old as the days of Leonora
de Galigai, quoted a million times. Now tell me something new and to the
purpose, and better suited to modern days.'
    'Well, then, since you will not allow me to talk of superior minds in
the present days, let me ask you if you have never observed that a wit,
once conquered in company by a wit of a higher order, is thenceforward
in complete subjection to the conqueror, whenever and wherever they
meet.'
    'You would not persuade me that yonder gentle-looking could ever be a
match for the veteran Mrs. Dareville? She may have the wit, but has she
the courage?'
    'Yes; no one has more courage, more civil courage, where her own
dignity, or the interests of her friends are concerned. I will tell you
an instance or two to-morrow.'
    'To-morrow!—To-night!—tell it me now.'
    'Not a safe place.'
    'The safest in the world, in such a crowd as this. Follow my example.
Take a glass of orgeat—sip from time to time, thus—speak low, looking
innocent all the while straight forward, or now and then up at
the lamps—keep on in an even tone—use no names—and you may tell
anything.'
    'Well, then, when Miss Nugent first came to London, Lady Langdale—'
    'Two names already—did not I warn ye?'
    'But how can I make myself intelligible?'
    'Initials—can't you use—or genealogy? What stops you?
    'It is only Lord Colambre, a very safe person, I have a notion, when the
eulogium is of Grace Nugent.'
    Lord Colambre, who had now performed his arduous duties as a dancer, and
had disembarrassed himself of all his partners, came into the Turkish
tent just at this moment to refresh himself, and just in time to hear
Mr. Salisbury's anecdotes.
    'Now go on.'
    'Lady Langdale, you know, sets an inordinate value upon her curtsies in
public, and she used to treat Miss Nugent, as her ladyship treats many
other people, sometimes noticing, and sometimes pretending not to know
her, according to the company she happened to be with. One day they
met in some fine company—Lady Langdale looked as if she was afraid
of committing herself by a curtsy. Miss Nugent waited for a good
opportunity; and, when all the world was silent, leant forward, and
called to Lady Langdale, as if she had something to communicate of the
greatest consequence, skreening her whisper with her hand, as in an
aside on the stage,—'Lady Langdale, you may curtsy to me now—nobody is
looking.'
    'The retort courteous!' said Lord Colambre—'the only retort for a
woman.'
    'And her ladyship deserved it so well. But Mrs. Dareville, what happened
about her?'
    'Mrs. Dareville, you remember, some years ago, went to Ireland with some
lady-lieutenant to whom she was related. There she was most hospitably
received by Lord and Lady Clonbrony—went to their country house—was as
intimate with Lady Clonbrony and with Miss Nugent as possible—stayed
at Clonbrony Castle for a month; and yet, when Lady Clonbrony came to
London, never took the least notice of her. At last, meeting at the
house of a common friend, Mrs. Dareville could not avoid recognising
her ladyship; but,