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In the mean time Mr. Mountague was walking slowly towards them with Lady Augusta, who found it necessary to walk as slowly as possible, because of the heat. He had been reflecting very soberly upon her ladyship’s late blush, which, according to his interpretation, said, as plainly as a blush could say, all that the most refined sense and delicacy could dictate. Yet such is, upon some occasions, the inconsistency of the human mind, that he by no means felt sure that the lady had blushed at all. Her colour was, perhaps, a shade higher than usual; but then it was hot weather, and she had been walking. The doubt, however, Mr. Mountague thought proper to suppress; and the reality of the blush, once thoroughly established in his imagination, formed the foundation of several ingenious theories of moral sentiment, and some truly logical deductions. A passionate admirer of grace and beauty, he could not help wishing that he might find Lady Augusta’s temper and understanding equal to her personal accomplishments. When we are very anxious to discover perfections in any character, we generally succeed, or fancy that we succeed. Mr. Mountague quickly discovered many amiable and interesting qualities in this fair lady, and, though he perceived some defects, he excused them to himself with the most philosophic ingenuity.

“Affectation,” the judicious Locke observes, “has always the laudable aim of pleasing:” upon this principle Mr. Mountague could not reasonably think of it with severity. “From the desire of pleasing,” argued he, “proceeds not only all that is amiable, but much of what is most estimable in the female sex. This desire leads to affectation and coquetry, to folly and vice, only when it is extended to unworthy objects. The moment a woman’s wish to please becomes discriminative, the moment she feels any attachment to a man superior to the vulgar herd, she not only ceases to be a coquette, but she exerts herself to excel in every thing that he approves, and, from her versatility of manners, she has the happy power of adapting herself to his taste, and of becoming all that his most sanguine wishes could desire.” The proofs of this discriminative taste, and the first symptoms of this salutary attachment to a man superior to the vulgar herd, Mr. Mountague thought he discerned very plainly in Lady Augusta, nor did he ever forget that she was but eighteen. “She is so very young,” said he to himself, “that it is but reasonable I should constantly consider what she may become, rather than what she is.” To do him justice, we shall observe, that her ladyship at this time, with all the address of which so young a lady was capable, did every thing in her power to confirm Mr. Mountague in his favourable sentiments of her.

Waiting for some circumstance to decide his mind, he was at length determined by the generous enthusiasm, amiable simplicity, and candid good sense which Lady Augusta showed in speaking of a favourite friend of hers, of whom he could not approve. This friend, Lady Diana, was one of the rude ladies who had laughed with so much ill-nature at Helen’s white and black shoes at the archery ball. She was a dashing, rich, extravagant, fashionable widow, affecting bold horsemanlike manners, too often “touching the brink of all we hate,” without exciting any passions allied to love. Her look was almost an oath–her language was suitable to her looks–she swore and dressed to the height of the fashion–she could drive four horses in hand–was a desperate huntress–and so loud in the praises of her dogs and horses, that she intimidated even sportsmen and jockeys. She talked so much of her favourite horse Spanker, that she acquired amongst a particular set of gentlemen the appellation of my Lady Di Spanker. Lady Augusta perceived that the soft affectations remarkable in her own manners were in agreeable contrast in the company of this masculine dame; she therefore cultivated her acquaintance, and Lady S—- could make no objection to a woman who was well received every where; she was rather flattered to see her daughter taken notice of by this dashing belle; consequently, Lady Di. Spanker, for by that name we also shall call her, frequently rode over from Cheltenham, which was some miles distant from S—- Hall. One morning she called upon Lady Augusta, and insisted upon her coming out to try her favourite horse. All the gentlemen went down immediately to assist in putting her ladyship on horseback: this was quite unnecessary, for Lady Diana took that office upon herself. Lady Augusta was all timidity, and was played off to great advantage by the rough raillery of her friend. At length she conquered her fears so much as to seat herself upon the side-saddle; her riding mistress gathered up the reins for her, and fixed them properly in her timid hands; then armed her with her whip, exhorting her, “for God’s sake, not to be such a coward!” Scarcely was the word coward pronounced, when Lady Augusta, by some unguarded motion of her whip, gave offence to her high-mettled steed, which instantly began to rear: there was no danger, for Mr. Mountague caught hold of the reins, and Lady Augusta was dismounted in perfect safety. “How now, Spanker!” exclaimed Lady Di., in a voice calculated to strike terror into the nerves of a horse–“how now, Spanker!” and mounting him with masculine boldness of gesture–“I’ll teach you, sir, who’s your mistress,” continued she; “I’ll make you pay for these tricks!” Spanker reared again, and Lady Di. gave him what she called “a complete dressing!” In vain Lady Augusta screamed; in vain the spectators entreated the angry amazon to spare the whip; she persisted in beating Spanker till she fairly mastered him. When he was perfectly subdued, she dismounted with the same carelessness with which she had mounted; and, giving the horse to her groom, pushed back her hat, and looked round for applause. Lord George, roused to a degree of admiration, which he had never before been heard to express for any thing female, swore that, in all his life, he had never seen any thing better done; and Lady Di. Spanker received his congratulations with a loud laugh, and a hearty shake of the hand. “Walk him about, Jack,” added she, turning to the groom, who held her horse; “walk him about, for he’s all in a lather; and when he’s cool, bring him up here again. And then, my dear child,” said she to Lady Augusta, “you shall give him a fair trial.”