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Mademoiselle Panache
by
When she returned from her airing, the first glance at Mr. Mountague’s countenance convinced her that her power was at an end. She was not the only person who observed this. Dashwood, under his air of thoughtless gaiety, watched all that passed with the utmost vigilance, and he knew how to avail himself of every circumstance that could be turned to his own advantage. He well knew that a lady’s ear is never so happily prepared for the voice of flattery as after having been forced to hear that of sincerity. Dashwood contrived to meet Lady Augusta, just after she had been mortified by her late admirer’s total recovery of his liberty, and, seizing well his moment, pressed his suit with gallant ardour. As he exhibited all those signs of passion which her governess would have deemed unequivocal, the young lady thought herself justified in not absolutely driving him to despair.
Where was Lady S—- all this time! Where?–at the card-table, playing very judiciously at whist. With an indolent security, which will be thought incredible by those who have not seen similar instances of folly in great families, she let every thing pass before her eyes without seeing it. Confident that her daughter, after having gone through the usual routine, would meet with some suitable establishment, that the settlements would then be the father’s business, the choice of the jewels hers, she left her dear Augusta, in the meantime, to conduct herself; or, what was ten times worse, to be conducted by Mlle. Panache. Thus to the habitual indolence, or temporary convenience of parents, are the peace and reputation of a family secretly sacrificed. And we may observe, that those who take the least precaution to prevent imprudence in their children are most enraged and implacable when the evil becomes irremediable.
In losing Mr. Mountague’s heart, Lady Augusta’s vanity felt a double pang, from the apprehension that Helen would probably recover her captive. Acting merely from the impulse of the moment, her ladyship was perfectly a child in her conduct; she seldom knew her own mind two hours together, and really did not foresee the consequences of any one of her actions. Half a dozen incompatible wishes filled her heart, or, rather, her imagination. The most immediate object of vanity had always the greatest power over her; and upon this habit of mind Dashwood calculated with security.
In the pride of conquest, her ladyship had rejoiced at her mother’s inviting Mrs. Temple and her daughters to an entertainment at S—- Hall, where she flattered herself that Mr. Mountague would appear as her declared admirer. The day, alas! came; but things had taken a new turn, and Lady Augusta was as impatient that the visit should be finished, as she had been eager to have the invitation sent. Lady S—- was not precisely informed of all that was going on in her own house, as we have observed; and she was, therefore, a little surprised at the look of vexation with which her daughter heard that she had pressed Mrs. Temple to stay all night. “My dear,” said Lady S—-, “you know you can sleep in mademoiselle’s room for this one night, and Miss Helen Temple will have yours. One should be civil to people, especially when one sees them but seldom.” Lady Augusta was much out of humour with her mother’s ill-timed civility; but there was no remedy. In the hurry of moving her things at night, Lady Augusta left in her dressing table drawer a letter of Dashwood’s–a letter which she would not have had seen by Miss Helen Temple for any consideration. Our readers may imagine what her ladyship’s consternation must have been, when, the next morning, Helen put the letter into her hand, saying, “There’s a paper you left in your dressing-table, Lady Augusta.” The ingenuous countenance of Helen, as she spoke, might have convinced any one but Lady Augusta that she was incapable of having opened this paper; but her ladyship judged otherwise: she had no doubt that every syllable of the letter had been seen, and that her secret would quickly be divulged. The company had not yet assembled at breakfast. She retired precipitately to her own room, to consider what could possibly be done in this emergency. She at length resolved to apply to Mr. Mountague for assistance; for she had seen enough of him to feel assured that he was a man of honour, and that she might safely trust him. When she heard him go down stairs to breakfast, she followed, and contrived to give him a note, which he read with no small degree of surprise.