This speech was so long that it gave me time to cool, and so incontrovertible, that I found some difficulty in replying. Before I could summon a rejoinder, Miss Mortimer, who never pursued a victory, had quitted the room. She had left me an unpleasant subject of meditation; but she had allowed me to postpone the consideration of it for a few hours; so, in the mean time, I turned my thoughts to the masquerade.
And first, by way of safeguard against temptation, I thought it best to lay down an immutable resolution that I would not go. It was very hard, indeed, to be deprived of such a harmless amusement; but, as I had given an unlucky promise, I purposed magnanimously to adhere to it, resolving, however, to indemnify myself the next opportunity. Thus mortified, I began to indulge my fancy in painting what might have been the pleasures of the masquerade. I imagined (there was surely no harm in imagining!) how well I could
have personated the fair Fatima,--how happily the turban would have accorded with the Grecian turn of my head,--how softly the transparent sleeves of my caftan would have shaded my rounded arm,--how favourably the Turkish costume would have shown
the light limb, and the elastic[69] step. I invented a hundred witticisms which I might have uttered,--a hundred compliments which I might have received. Above all, I dwelt upon the approbation, the endearments of the charming Lady St Edmunds, till my heart bounded with the ideal joy. When I retired to rest, the same gay visions surrounded me; and I gladly awoke to pursue them again in my waking dreams.
How suitable to our nature is that commandment which places upon the thoughts the first restraints of virtue! It was painful to interrupt my delightful reverie, by renewing my resolutions of self-denial, so I passed them over as already fixed, insensible how fatally I was undermining their foundations. The bribe must be poor indeed, which the aids of imagination cannot render irresistible. The longer my fancy dwelt upon my lost pleasure, the more severe seemed my privation, the more unfounded Miss Mortimer's prejudice. From the wish that the thing had been right, the step was easy to the belief that it could not be very wrong. Before the morning,
my inclination had so far bewildered my judgment, that Miss Arnold found no difficulty in persuading me to refer the matter to my
father; and, regardless of my promise, to abide by his decision.
She herself undertook the statement of the case; for it happened, I know not how, that, even when she spoke only truth, her state-ments always served a purpose better than mine. The effect of her adroit representation was, that my father decided in favour of the
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masquerade; observing that 'Miss Mortimer, though a very good woman, had some odd notions, which it would not do for every
body to adopt.'
Thus it seemed determined that I was to enjoy the amusement upon which I had set my heart. And yet I was not satisfied. My gay visions were no sooner likely to be realised, than they lost half their charms. A slight scrutiny into my own mind would have enabled me to trace the cause of this change to a consciousness of error; but a vague anticipation of the issue was sufficient to prevent me from entering upon the enquiry. I therefore contented myself with attempting to impose upon my own judgment, by asserting that, since my father was satisfied, I was at full liberty to pursue my inclination. 'To be sure,' said Miss Arnold, 'when Mr Percy has given his permission, who else has any right to interfere?'
'And will you, my dear sir, speak of it to Miss Mortimer,' said I, anxious to transfer that task to any one who would undertake it.
'Oh, I'll manage all that,' cried Miss Arnold. 'If Mr Percy were to[70] mention the matter to Miss Mortimer, it would look as if he thought himself accountable to her; and then there would be no end of it; for she fancies already that she should be consulted in every thing that concerns you,--as if Mr Percy, who has so long superintended the greatest concerns in the kingdom, could not direct his own family without her interference!'
I believe my father, as well as myself, might have some latent misgivings of mind, which made him not unwilling to accept of Miss Arnold's offered services. 'I have so many important affairs to mind,' said he, 'that I shall probably think no more of such a trifle; so I commission you, Miss Juliet, to let Miss Mortimer know my opinion; which, I dare say, you will do discreetly, for you seem a civil, judicious young lady. Elizabeth, poor soul, meant all for the best; thinking to save me a few pounds, I suppose. But you may let her know, that what it may be very commendable in her to save is altogether below my notice. When a man has thousands, and tens of thousands passing through his hands every day, it gives him a liberal way of thinking. But as for a woman, who never was mistress of a hundred pounds at a time, what can she know of liberality?'
My father had now entered on a favourite topic, the necessary connection between riches and munificence. Miss Arnold listened
respectfully, approving by smiles, nods, and single words of assent; while I stood wrapt in my meditations, if I may give that name
to the succession of unsightly images which conscience forced into my mind, and which I as quickly banished. Having triumphantly convinced an antagonist who ventured not upon opposition, my father withdrew; and left my friend and me to consult upon our communication to Miss Mortimer.
'She will be in a fine commotion,' said I, endeavouring to smile, 'when she hears that we are going to this masquerade after all. But since you have undertaken the business, Juliet, you may break it to her to-night, while I am at the opera; and then the fracas will be partly over before I come home.'
'I have been just thinking,' said Miss Arnold, 'all the time that your father was making that fine oration, that it would be wiser not
to break it to her at all. Where is the necessity for her knowing any thing of the matter? We shall have other invitations for the same evening; so we may go somewhere else first, and afterwards look in for an hour or two at the ball. Nobody need know that we have been there.'
'What, Juliet! would you have me steal off in that clandestine way,[71] as if I were afraid or ashamed to do what my father approves
of ? If I am to act in defiance of Miss Mortimer, I will do it openly, and not slavishly pilfer my right, as if I did not dare to assert it.'
'Don't be angry, Ellen,' said Miss Arnold, soothingly; 'I shall most willingly do whatever you think best. But, for my part, I would
almost as soon give up the masquerade, as be lectured about it for the next three weeks.'
'But, to give Miss Mortimer her due,' returned I, 'she does not lecture much.'
'That is true,' replied Miss Arnold. 'But then she will look so dolefully at us. I am sure I would rather be scolded heartily at once.'
In this last sentiment, I cordially sympathised; for the silent upbraiding of the eye is the very poetry of reproach--it addresses itself to the imagination. 'I wish,' cried I, sighing from the very bottom of my heart, 'that I had never heard of this ball!'
'In my opinion,' said Miss Arnold, 'it would save both us and Miss Mortimer a great deal of vexation, if she were never to hear more of it.'
'Say no more of that, Juliet,' interrupted I; 'I am determined not to take another step in the business without her knowledge.'
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Miss Arnold was silent for a few moments; and when her voice again drew my attention, I perceived tears in her eyes. 'Well, Ellen,' said she, 'since you are so determined, I see only one way of settling the matter quietly. I will give my ticket to Miss Mortimer,--she can have no objection to your going, if she be there herself to watch you.'
'Never name such a thing to me, Juliet! What! leave you moping alone, fancying all the pleasure you might have had, while I am amusing myself abroad. I had rather never see a mask in my life!'
'I should prefer any thing to bringing her ill-humour upon you,' said Miss Arnold; 'and since you persist in telling her, I see no other
way of escape. I shall most cheerfully resign the masquerade to give you pleasure.'
'My own dear Juliet!' cried I, locking my arms round her neck, while unbidden tears filled my eyes, 'how can you talk of giving my pleasure by sacrificing