Lady
Clara ever engaged to Captain Belsize? Fiddle-de-dee! Everybody knew
the Captain's affairs, and that he could no more think of marrying than
flying. Lady Clara faint at seeing him! she fainted before he came up;
she was always fainting, and had done so thrice in the last week to his
knowledge. Lord Dorking had a nervous affection of his right arm, and
was always shaking his stick. He did not say Villain, he said William;
Captain Belsize's name is William. It is not so in the Peerage? Is
he called Jack in the Peerage? Those Peerages are always wrong. These
candid explanations of course had their effect. Wicked tongues were
of course instantaneously silent. People were entirely satisfied; they
always are. The next night being Assembly night, Lady Clara appeared
at the rooms and danced with Lord Kew and Mr. Barnes Newcome. All the
society was as gracious and good-humoured as possible, and there was no
more question of fainting than of burning down the Conversation-house.
But Madame de Cruchecassee, and Madame de Schlangenbad, and those horrid
people whom the men speak to, but whom the women salute with silent
curtseys, persisted in declaring that there was no prude like an English
prude; and to Dr. Finck's oaths, assertions, explanations, only replied,
with a shrug of their bold shoulders, "Taisez-vous, Docteur, vous n'ete
qu'une vieille bete."

Lady Kew was at the rooms, uncommonly gracious. Miss Ethel took a few
turns of the waltz with Lord Kew, but this nymph looked more farouche
than upon ordinary days. Bob Jones, who admired her hugely, asked leave
to waltz with her, and entertained her with recollections of Clive
Newcome at school. He remembered a fight in which Clive had been
engaged, and recounted that action to Miss Newcome, who seemed to be
interested. He was pleased to deplore Clive's fancy for turning artist,
and that Miss Newcome recommended him to have his likeness taken, for
she said his appearance was exceedingly picturesque. He was going on
with further prattle, but she suddenly cut Mr. Jones short, making him
a bow, and going to sit down by Lady Kew. "And the next day, sir," said
Bob, with whom the present writer had the happiness of dining at a mess
dinner at the Upper Temple, "when I met her on the walk, sir, she cut me
as dead as a stone. The airs those swells give themselves is enough to
make any man turn republican."

Miss Ethel indeed was haughty, very haughty, and of a difficult temper.
She