Kate Coventry An Autobiography

s rejoice in such an Abigail, I shall be too happy to "swap" with her, and give anything else I possess except Brilliant into the bargain. Mine

ed dressing to go out; and I think I never hated it more than the night of Lady Horsingham's ball. Lady Horsingham is my poor uncle's widow; and as Aunt De

no escape; or perhaps philosophically and perfidiously making the best of his unavoidable situation, and flirting shamefully with the one he likes next best to the imprisoned maiden on the staircase; or, the tables turned, young fledglings pining madly for their respective enslavers, and picturing to themselves how she may be even now whirling round to that pealing waltz in the arms of some former adorer or delightfully new acquaintance, little heeding him who is languishing in his white neckcloth, actually within speaking distance, but separated as effectually as if he were in another country. By-the-bye, it's fatal when people beg

armine's eldest girl is "carrying on" with young Thriftless, and how Lord Looby's eyeglass is fixed on her own youngest daughter; yet for all this she is not absent or preoccupied, but can whisper to stupid Lady Dulwich the very latest intelligence of a marriage, or listen, all attention, to the freshest bit of scandal from Mrs. General Gabbler. But perhaps by this time you have floated with the tide into the doorway, and received from your hostess the cordial shake of the hand or formal bow which makes you free of

y other people; but, I must confess, if anybody had anything very particular to say to me, I had rather hear it in the quiet country by moonlight, or even coming home from Greenwich by water-or any

at's my maid's name, and what a name it is for a person in that class of life!) put me more and more out of patien

doubt;" brushing away the while at my back hair, and pullin

ster John? Gertrude tries again: "You look pale to-night, miss; you th

y sleepy. Why, it's

oing to a ball. But I think you like 'orse exercise best;

ourse, I can but answer, "That he is, Gertrude, and as good as he'

o hear my beautiful Brilliant's great strong legs called thin, as if he were made of paper. I feel I am getting savage again, so I cut Gertrude short, and bid her "fi

up together, as you did last Christmas when we was all at Dangerfield! and I says to the steward, 'Mr. Musty,' says I, 'a handsomer couple than them two I never clapped eyes on. Master John, he looks so fresh, and so health

cket-handkerchief and some scent, and my

do humbly hope you'

I've got on, and say the most disagreeable things she can think of, because she never can forgive me for being born two years later than herself. I shall know very few people, and those I do know I shall

Amelia being very short and pale, with a "turn-up" nose and long ringlets. Why does a little woman with a turn-up nose always wear her hair in ringlets? Is it that she wishes to resemble a King Charles's spaniel? And why are our sex so apt to cherish feelings of animosity towards those who are younger and better-looking than themselves? While I ask myself these questions I was suddenly accosted by a lady who had been some time in conversation with my chaperon, and from whom, I saw by Aunt Deborah's countenance, she was anxious to make her escape. Poor old soul! What could she do? A double rank of dowagers hemmed her in in front; on one side of her was her unwelcome acquaintance and the banisters-on the other, myself and three demure young ladies (sisters), who looked frightened and uncomfortable-whilst her rear was guarded by a tall cavalry officer with enormous moustachios, heading an impervious column of dandies worse than him

cut when I was a baby), and a beautiful healthy-looking skin, and such good teeth. After all, I think her great attraction was her nose. It had more expression in its straight, well-cut bridge and little, sharp point than all the rest of her features put together. I believe it was her nose that conquered everything, and that her small feet and pretty figure and white hands, and dashing ways and piquante conversation had much less to answer for than one saucy little feature. How she rattled on: "You don't know Lady Scapegrace, Miss Coventry, do you? There, that bold-looking woman in yellow. Beautiful black hair, hasn't she?-false, every

man, Kate?" said he as soon as a fresh convulsion in the crowd had stranded us a

ling a "white one" for the sake of teas

o know I don't much like. But, Kate, there's a friend of mine wishes to be presented to you. You've often he

is bow to my aunt, who received him, as she does all good-looking young men, with a patronizing smile, and a vision of John "doing the polite," and laughing as he ceremoniously introduced "Captain Lovell" and "Miss Coventry," and something

I couldn't help watching him as he loitered about amongst the crowd, now deep in conversation with Lady Scapegrace, now laughing with my new friend, Mrs. Lumley. He looked so like a gentleman, even amongst all the high-bred men there; and though so handsome, he didn't appear the least conceited. I began to wonder whether all could be true that I had heard of him, and to think that a man who liked such early walks could not possibly be the roué and "good-for-nothing" they made him out. I was roused out of a brown study by Cousin John's voice in my ear, "Now then, Kate, for our waltz. The room's a little clearer, so we can go the 'pace' if you like." And away we went to "the Odalisque" f

ace at the carriage-window, for I am almost sure he bowed, but I shrunk back into the corner, and pretended to go to sle