The Argosy — page 131: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

116 A Capriccio. “ Vour friend Mr. Greville will see to that. Or stay! Come as you are,” he answered, ‘‘ That also must be a promise. And there is one other I would ask you to give me. May I?” “Tam not afraid.” ‘Promise to dance with me twice, thrice, four times on Friday.” “Why, that is easily promised,” I said, simply. ‘I will dance with you as often as you like, for there will be no one else to ask me. But you have not Aunt Rebecca’s permission yet ; and I cannot be sure that she will let me go.” But here our conversation ceased. We had arrived at Mr. Greville’s house, and he insisted on making Lord Everril come in to have some supper. (I wonder what my mother would have said to our eating at that hour of night !) ; Lord Everril did not speak again to me, except to say, ‘‘ Good- night.” Instead, he devoted himself to Aunt Rebecca, and made himself so pleasant that, as she afterwards confessed, she could deny him nothing. ‘Such a gentlemanly young man,” she said, when we were going to bed, as she interrupted my rhapsodies about the play: ‘‘so courteous, so agreeable, and as well-favoured as one could wish to see. I hope I have done right, my dear, and that such vanities will not turn your head. He begged so prettily that I could not say him nay.” “The ball? Oh, Aunt Rebecca! Aunt Rebecca! Did you say yes? Are we going to it? Really—veally going? Oh, you dear, good, darling old auntie.” I danced round the room until I was giddy; then dropped on my knees and laid my whirling head on her lap. It seemed too good to be true. ‘Now, if you are so foolish, Celia, I shall feel it my duty to say no,” said Aunt Rebecca, in her prim, old-maid voice, though a smile hovered round her mouth. ‘‘ Remember that young men are not all to be trusted. And, ‘ Beauty is but skin deep.’ ” “Ves,” I said critically; ‘‘he has a beautiful face, and if he is not to be trusted, it will not hurt us, Aunt Rebecca. Oh, and he says I am to wear this gown at the ball.” ‘Vanity is a sin, my dear,” went on Aunt Rebecca, rising. ‘“ It is time you were asleep ; and remember, when you feel in danger of being overcome by vanity—remember, ‘ Beauty is but skin deep.’” Before I undressed, I took one look at myself in the glass. I do not know why I did so, unless it was the effect of Aunt Rebecca’s words. At all events, there was no fear of vanity overcoming me, I thought, for this is all I saw: a tall, slim figure, in a straight, high- waisted, white frock ; a laughing face, with pink cheeks ; merry eyes, dark, like sloes ; and a wealth of brown hair, short and curly as a boy’s. Nothing there to warrant Aunt Rebecca’s warning, that “ Beauty is but skin deep.” ECONMNIELOOOKS.E@) m