The gentleman stammered, and looked confused; and indeed, seemed in such an agony of emotion, that I instantly took pity upon him. “But a surgeon's days are never his own to command, as my sister and I fully comprehend. You could not, perhaps, have come any earlier.”

Mr. Dagliesh had appeared at Wings cottage, in all the disorder of extreme haste, some two hours after Cassandra's departure, and his disappointment at the fact suggested that he had been prevented from attending my sister by a sudden interference of events — and that he was quite put out by the loss of his farewell. From his present regret, I received a further conviction of my supposition's truth.

“I was called away suddenly — an injury of some moment — and with no other assistance available,” he said, somewhat brokenly. “Not for anything but the direst circumstance should I have neglected to offer my compliments to Miss Austen. Pray convey them to her at the nearest opportunity, and I shall be the better for having attempted to make amends. I draw some comfort from the news that she is much improved; it is all that I could wish for.”

“You are too good,” I said gently. “I am sure that the knowledge of your heartfelt regard has furthered her recovery.”

The poor gentleman was so much overcome by this notion, as to be rendered almost insensible for several moments; and though he collected himself enough to request my hand for the first dance, he was called away not long thereafter, and so our mutual expectation of felicity — mine, in being so soon solicited, and his, in the prospect of discussing nothing but Cassandra for a full half-hour — were all overthrown.

The circle was somewhat enlivened by the appearance of Miss Lucy Armstrong's father and mother — enlivened by the opportunity their presence afforded, of observing how heartily they are disliked by Miss Crawford. The Armstrongs have come down from Bath (by the terrible post chaise), expressly to retrieve poor Lucy from her summer idyll — and upon my word, idyll it must have been, with all its trials, in comparison to her usual society — for the parents are of a vulgar turn, quite apparent in Mrs. Armstrong's choice of gown, a brilliant yellow silk with black jet beads running the length of her very lengthy train[55] — unsuitable for September, and particularly for Lyme. The lady's manner does not improve upon further acquaintance, for when I visited Lucy yesterday morning — being desperate for female society in the absence of my dear sister — Mrs. Armstrong sat darning a sock the entire time

I was present, and seemed quite given to conversing with herself, through a series of exclamations and sighs, regarding the poor quality of Miss Crawford's housemaid. I do not believe she heard above half a dozen words that passed. But my own mother is little better — being equally adept at self-distraction — and I must desist from mocking the habits of others, lest my derision come home to roost.

Miss Armstrong and I soon abandoned her parents for a walk along the Cobb, and the exercise and mutual pleasure in each other's society soon raised our spirits. The girl is a poor substitute for Cassandra or Eliza, but her understanding improves the further she flees from Miss Crawford's sharp tongue; she is conversable in a common way, though I perceive neither wit nor genius. Lucy is possessed of sense, and some degree of taste; and unlike her mother or aunt, her manners are most engaging. I must believe it is this quality — a general air of agreeability — that endears her to Mr. Sidmouth; for that he admires her — though to what degree I cannot be certain — is evident in the attention he continues to pay her.[56]

I had occasion to observe the gentleman rogue of High Down at the Assembly last evening, for Mr. Sidmouth appeared towards the close of the ball, and well after my father had departed with James and his lanthorn for Wings cottage — disappointed in his hopes of playing at loo, my mother being for commerce, and Captain Fielding moved to affect his attitude of le Chevalier, by gallantly acceding to her request that he partner her at the table. In the event, they divided the pot between them — a testament, I fear, to Captain Fielding's superior understanding; for when my mother plays with another as equally prone to forgetfulness as herself, she rarely triumphs in so prosperous a fashion.

But now to Mr. Sidmouth — who, I declare, is possessed of the greatest sang-froid, in parading himself before the very society that must have observed his embattled flight a few dawns previous. He was as cool and collected as ever, bowing with frigid gentility in Captain Fielding's direction; and being prevented from partnering myself in the first two dances, by my engagement to Mr. Crawford, he soon made himself available to Miss Armstrong, who was glad enough to take his hand. He was all that could be desired in a partner; he danced well, did not confuse the figures, or trample her pale blue slippers; he attempted to converse, and from what snatches I overheard, kept the talk in a general way; but the fact of his attention seemed to overwhelm his fair partner. I observed that she spent the better part of the hour consigned to his company, with downcast eyes and a scarlet throat— Ah! The delicate sensibility of nineteen!

I wish I could find it in myself to envy Miss Armstrong; I should like to strike the attitude of a slighted heroine, and languish in forsaken love for one or another of the gentlemen thrown in my way; but she is too pale a figure for competition. I am convinced, upon reflection, that Mr. Sidmouth enjoys her company as he might that of a flower found along the roadside — there is little of heat or intensity in his regard. He is not the sort of man for an easy passion.

“Sidmouth!” Mr. Crawford cried, in approaching his friend at the dance's close. “How comes your lovely cousin not to grace the rooms this evening? And T do not recall that she was with us last week, or the week before, if it comes to that. It is too bad of you! We must have Mademoiselle LeFevre, if Lyme is to aspire to any real elegance!”

“I regret that my cousin is indisposed this evening,’” Sidmouth returned, with a slight bow and a formal air; “but I shall convey to her your sentiments, which cannot but be pleasing.”

“And she must get out, eh? It has been an age since I have seen her — or, more to the point, been delighted by her singing! Come now. You cannot keep her at home in this stupid manner,” Crawford said, with a jocular glance for me. “I am to have a smallish dinner party Saturday e'en — a sort of farewell for my Lucy — and you shall both come. Mademoiselle LeFevre's indisposition, I trust, will be but a trifling matter in four-and-twenty hours?”

“I may not presume to say. But I shall provide her with the opportunity to choose — and try whether the delights of Darby exceed those of High Down.”

“Capital! I shall order a couple of dozen ducks killed on the strength of it — for Mademoiselle cannot give up a dinner at Darby; I am sure of it The Austens, of course, shall be there”—this, with a bow for me—“and one or two others. Capital!”

And so Mr. Crawford moved on, issuing invitations as he went, and leaving me to the mercies of Mr. Sidmouth, who gave me a long look and the barest suggestion of a smile.

“You do not wear your sister's gown this evening,” he observed, “and though the pink was becoming, and your own white muslin is more ravishing still, I should prefer to think of you always as you appeared a few mornings ago— like a siren on the rocks, your hair swept by the wind, and your arms wrapped close around a borrowed cloak.”

I blushed hotly — and cursed my wayward cheeks, which are too frequently suffused with scarlet, and ever the bane of my existence. The frankness of Sidmouth's speech— the warmth with which the words were spoken — almost unnerved me; but I recollected in time the nature of our parting that morning, and was strengthened enough to meet his eyes.