She was dancing, it was true, with the same lightness and grace as before, but the smooth bounding motion as of a feather blown onwards by the wind was gone.She was conversing with her partner, but without the soft animation that usually shone out upon her countenance.And when she was brought back to her seat Molly noticed her changed colour, and her dreamily abstracted eyes.'What is the matter, Cynthia?' asked she, in a very low voice.'Nothing,' said Cynthia, suddenly looking up, and in an accent of what was in her, sharpness.'Why should there be?' 'I don't know; but you look different to what you did - tired or something.' 'There is nothing the matter, or, if there is, don't talk about it.It is all your fancy.' This was a rather contradictory speech, to be interpreted by intuition rather than by logic.Molly understood that Cynthia wished for quietness and silence.But what was her surprise, after the speeches that had passed before, and the implication of Cynthia's whole manner to Mr Preston, to see him come up, and, without a word, offer his arm to Cynthia and lead her off to dance.It appeared to strike Mrs Gibson as something remarkable, for, forgetting her late passage at arms with Molly, she asked, wanderingly, as if almost distrusting the evidence of her senses, - 'Is Cynthia going to dance with Mr Preston?' Molly had scarcely time to answer before she herself was led off by her partner.She could hardly attend to him or to the figures of the quadrille for watching for Cynthia among the moving forms.Once she caught a glimpse of her standing still - downcast - listening to Mr Preston's eager speech.Again she was walking languidly among the dancers, almost as if she took no notice of those around her.When she and Molly joined each other again, the shade on Cynthia's face had deepened to gloom.But, at the same time, if a physiognomist had studied her expression, he would have read in it defiance and anger, and perhaps also a little perplexity.While this quadrille had been going on, Lady Harriet had been speaking to her brother.'Hollingford!' she said, laying her hand on his arm, and drawing him a little apart from the well-born crowd amid which he stood, silent and abstracted, 'you don't know how these good people here have been hurt and disappointed with our being so late, and with the duchess's ridiculous simplicity of dress.' 'Why should they mind it?' asked he, taking advantage of her being out of breath with eagerness.'Oh, don't be so wise and stupid; don't you see, we're a show and a spectacle - it's like having a pantomime with harlequin and columbine in plain clothes." 'I don't understand how -- ' he began.'Then take it upon trust.They really are a little disappointed, whether they are logical or not in being so, and we must try and make it up to them; for one thing, because I can't bear our vassals to look dissatisfied and disloyal, and then there's the election in June.' 'I really would as soon be out of the House as in it.' 'Nonsense; it would grieve papa beyond measure - but there is no time to talk about that now.You must go and dance with some of the townspeople, and I'll ask Sheepshanks to introduce me to a respectable young farmer.
Can't you get Captain James to make himself useful? There he goes with Lady Alice! If I don't get him introduced to the ugliest tailor's daughter I can find for the next dance!' She put her arm in her brother's as she spoke, as if to lead him to some partner.He resisted, however - resisted piteously.'Pray don't, Harriet.You know I can't dance.I hate it; I always did.
I don't know how to get through a quadrille.' 'It's a country dance!' said she, resolutely.'It's all the same.And what shall I say to my partner? I haven't a notion: