The Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid | Page 8

one. Now you have done so. Let me hear what it is, and I'll be as good as my word.'
'To go to the Yeomanry Ball that's to be given this month.'
'The Yeomanry Ball--Yeomanry Ball?' he murmured, as if, of all requests in the world, this was what he had least expected. 'Where is what you call the Yeomanry Ball?'
'At Exonbury.'
'Have you ever been to it before?'
'No, sir.'
'Or to any ball?'
'No.'
'But did I not say a gift--a present?'
'Or a treat?'
'Ah, yes, or a treat,' he echoed, with the air of one who finds himself in a slight fix. 'But with whom would you propose to go?'
'I don't know. I have not thought of that yet.'
'You have no friend who could take you, even if I got you an invitation?'
Margery looked at the moon. 'No one who can dance,' she said; adding, with hesitation, 'I was thinking that perhaps--'
'But, my dear Margery,' he said, stopping her, as if he half-divined what her simple dream of a cavalier had been; 'it is very odd that you can think of nothing else than going to a Yeomanry Ball. Think again. You are sure there is nothing else?'
'Quite sure, sir,' she decisively answered. At first nobody would have noticed in that pretty young face any sign of decision; yet it was discoverable. The mouth, though soft, was firm in line; the eyebrows were distinct, and extended near to each other. 'I have thought of it all day,' she continued, sadly. 'Still, sir, if you are sorry you offered me anything, I can let you off.'
'Sorry?--Certainly not, Margery,' be said, rather nettled. 'I'll show you that whatever hopes I have raised in your breast I am honourable enough to gratify. If it lies in my power,' he added with sudden firmness, 'you SHALL go to the Yeomanry Ball. In what building is it to be held?'
'In the Assembly Rooms.'
'And would you be likely to be recognized there? Do you know many people?'
'Not many, sir. None, I may say. I know nobody who goes to balls.'
'Ah, well; you must go, since you wish it; and if there is no other way of getting over the difficulty of having nobody to take you, I'll take you myself. Would you like me to do so? I can dance.'
'O, yes, sir; I know that, and I thought you might offer to do it. But would you bring me back again?'
'Of course I'll bring you back. But, by-the-bye, can YOU dance?'
'Yes.'
'What?'
'Reels, and jigs, and country-dances like the New-Rigged-Ship, and Follow-my-Lover, and Haste-to-the-Wedding, and the College Hornpipe, and the Favourite Quickstep, and Captain White's dance.'
'A very good list--a very good! but unluckily I fear they don't dance any of those now. But if you have the instinct we may soon cure your ignorance. Let me see you dance a moment.'
She stood out into the garden-path, the stile being still between them, and seizing a side of her skirt with each hand, performed the movements which are even yet far from uncommon in the dances of the villagers of merry England. But her motions, though graceful, were not precisely those which appear in the figures of a modern ball- room.
'Well, my good friend, it is a very pretty sight,' he said, warming up to the proceedings. 'But you dance too well--you dance all over your person--and that's too thorough a way for the present day. I should say it was exactly how they danced in the time of your poet Chaucer; but as people don't dance like it now, we must consider. First I must inquire more about this ball, and then I must see you again.'
'If it is a great trouble to you, sir, I--'
'O no, no. I will think it over. So far so good.'
The Baron mentioned an evening and an hour when he would be passing that way again; then mounted his horse and rode away.
On the next occasion, which was just when the sun was changing places with the moon as an illuminator of Silverthorn Dairy, she found him at the spot before her, and unencumbered by a horse. The melancholy that had so weighed him down at their first interview, and had been perceptible at their second, had quite disappeared. He pressed her right hand between both his own across the stile.
'My good maiden, Gott bless you!' said he warmly. 'I cannot help thinking of that morning! I was too much over-shadowed at first to take in the whole force of it. You do not know all; but your presence was a miraculous intervention. Now to more cheerful matters. I have a great deal to tell--that is, if your wish about the ball be still the same?'
'O yes, sir--if you don't object.'
'Never think of my objecting. What I have found out is something which simplifies matters amazingly. In