'My intention is quite at your service,' said Mr Maitland; 'but why is the 5th of May to be so distinguished?'
'I am deeply in Miss Percy's debt for amusement on that day; for it was fixed for a masked ball, which she has given up at my request.'
I stole a glance at Mr Maitland, and saw his countenance relax pleasantly. 'I dare say,' said he, 'you owe Miss Percy nothing on that account, for she will have more pleasure in complying with your wish than twenty masked balls would have given her.'
'I am not sure of that,' cried I; 'for of all things on earth, I should like to see a masked ball.'
'Must I then, per force, allow you some merit for relinquishing this one?' said Mr Maitland, seating himself by my side, with such a smile of playful kindness as he sometimes bestowed on Miss Mortimer. 'But why,' continued he, 'should you, of all women, desire to appear in masquerade? Come, confess that you believe you may conceal more charms than fall to the lot of half your sex, and still defy competition.'
'You may more charitably suppose,' returned I, 'that I am humbly desirous to escape comparisons.'
'Nay,' said Mr Maitland, with a smile which banished all the severity of truth, 'that would imply too sudden a reformation. Would you have me believe that you have conquered your besetting sin since the last time we met?'
'How have you the boldness,' said I, smiling, 'to talk to me of besetting sin?'
'As I would talk to a soldier of his scars,' said Mr Maitland. 'You think it an honourable blemish.'
'This is too bad!' cried I, 'not only to call me vain, but to tell me that I pique myself on my vanity!'
'Ay,' returned Mr Maitland, dryly, 'on your vanity, or your pride, or your----, call it what you will.'
'Well, pride let it be,' said I. 'Surely there is a becoming pride, which every woman ought to have.'
'A becoming pride!' repeated Mr Maitland; 'the phrase sounds well; now tell me what it means.'
'It means--it means--that is, I believe it means--that sort of dignity which keeps your saucy sex from presuming too far.'
'What connection is there, think you, between cautious decency,--that peculiar endearing instinct of a woman,--and inordinate self-estimation?'
'Oh! I would not have my pride inordinate. I would merely have a comfortable respect for myself and my endowments, to keep up my spirit, that I might not be a poor domestic animal to run about tame with the chickens, and cower with them into a corner as oft as lordly man presented his majestic port before me!--No! I hope I shall never lose my spirit. What should I be without it?'