44. CHAPTER XLIV.
THE ASSEMBLY AT THE CAPITOL.
Night had fallen, brilliant with stars. The streets of the
capital resounded ceaselessly with the roll of chariots. A
laughing throng rushed, with merriment and confusion, toward
the center of attraction—the old capitol, where the
ball was held.
A procession of splendid equipages constantly deposited
their burdens before the portico. These burdens were pompous
old planters in rich dark doublets, powdered heads, knee-breeches,
and silk stockings; grand old dames in black silks
and diamonds, and laughing little maidens, who flashed forth
like butterflies in their immense hooped dresses of glittering
satin, with jewels and laces, and curls and smiles, the latter
directed at the gay gallants who received them.
The youngsters in question did not come in the family
chariots. They preferred, to that “slow” mode of conveyance,
the saddles of their thorough-breds. On their fine
prancing horses they had galloped by the coaches, uttering
a hundred jests, and exhibiting their graces to Dulcinea
within, and they now stood prepared to lead in the ladies.
Let us leave the scenes of hubbub at the door, and enter
the assembly room.
It is filled with the laughter of revelers. A great crowd,
undulating to and fro beneath the brilliant lamps, is constantly
increased by new arrivals. From end to end of the
great room, runs a buzz of voices, which rises at times to a
deafening din, and when the sable musicians in the corner
scrape their catgut, a thrill of delight runs through the
young men and maidens. Silks and satins rustle and whistle,
like the broad leaves of corn when a breeze passes over
them; the bright eyes of the ladies summon their partners
for the quadrille and the minuet.
From his post in a corner, St. John sees Colonel Vane and
his family enter. The colonel limps, leaning on his gold-headed
cane, erect Aunt Mabel at his side. Behind comes
Miss Seraphina with her friend, Mr. John Hamilton; Tom
Alston escorts Helen; and lastly Miss Bonnybel appears on
the arm of Barry Hunter, the Prince of the Wilderness. St.
John does not look at Mr. Burwell's party, he gazes calmly
at Bonnybel.
She is clad in a dress of gauze-like fabric, over a petticoat
of azure satin. A mass of lace envelopes her beautiful arms,
and she looks as fresh as a rose. Her hair, profusely powdered
and looped with pearls, is carried back from her white
forehead; her violet eyes sparkle with anticipation.
The dark brunette complexion, black hair, and calm face
of the gentleman who comes and salutes her, present a decided
contrast to the maiden.
It is Mr. St. John, who approaches in the most courteous
way, and pays his respects to the party. A slight color
comes to the girl's cheek as he bows, and she holds out her
hand and presses his own warmly. The pressure is not returned,
and St. John, bowing low, makes way for the gentlemen
who hasten to pay their respects to the little beauty.
All at once the brilliant crowd is seen to divide. Lord
Dunmore, in a costume of immense splendor, enters. His
squat little figure is covered with embroidery and decorations.
His countenance wears an elaborate smile, but his
eyes do not smile at all, they glitter, so to speak, on the assembly.
The ladies, however—the countess and her daughters—
seem unaffectedly pleased. Innumerable presentations commence
then, and these are succeeded by a minuet, in
which the countess is led forth by Mr. Randolph, of the
council.
The festivities of the evening are thus formally inaugurated,
and thenceforth the assembly commences in earnest.
Quadrilles, contra-dances, minutes succeed each other; the
joy and mirth of the ball begins to culminate. The apartment
trembles and quakes with the flood of voices, the
floors jar with the feet of the dancers as they move, as
they move to the loud music, which rejoices and triumphs
in its sway over gallants and dames.
