Emily approaches the sofa-throne,breathless--followed by her partner,entreating her to give him "one turn more."She is not to be tempted;she means to rest.Cecilia sees an act of mercy,suggested by the presence of the disengaged young man.She seizes his arm,and hurries him off to poor Miss Darnaway;sitting forlorn in a corner,and thinking of the nursery at home.In the meanwhile a circumstance occurs.Mr.Mirabel's all-embracing arm shows itself in a new character,when Emily sits by his side.
It becomes,for the first time,an irresolute arm.It advances a little--and hesitates.Emily at once administers an unexpected check;she insists on preserving a free waist,in her own outspoken language."No,Mr.Mirabel,keep that for the others.
You can't imagine how ridiculous you and the young ladies look,and how absurdly unaware of it you all seem to be."For the first time in his life,the reverend and ready-witted man of the world is at a loss for an answer.Why?
For this ****** reason.He too has felt the magnetic attraction of the irresistible little creature whom every one likes.Miss Jethro has been doubly defeated.She has failed to keep them apart;and her unexplained misgivings have not been justified by events:Emily and Mr.Mirabel are good friends already.The brilliant clergyman is poor;his interests in life point to a marriage for money;he has fascinated the heiresses of two rich fathers,Mr.Tyvil and Mr.de Sor--and yet he is conscious of an influence (an alien influence,without a balance at its bankers),which has,in some mysterious way,got between him and his interests.
On Emily's side,the attraction felt is of another nature altogether.Among the merry young people at Monksmoor she is her old happy self again;and she finds in Mr.Mirabel the most agreeable and amusing man whom she has ever met.After those dismal night watches by the bed of her dying aunt,and the dreary weeks of solitude that followed,to live in this new world of luxury and gayety is like escaping from the darkness of night,and basking in the fall brightn ess of day.Cecilia declares that she looks,once more,like the joyous queen of the bedroom,in the bygone time at school;and Francine (profaning Shakespeare without knowing it),says,"Emily is herself again!""Now that your arm is in its right place,reverend sir,"she gayly resumes,"I may admit that there are exceptions to all rules.My waist is at your disposal,in a case of necessity--that is to say,in a case of waltzing.""The one case of all others,"Mirabel answers,with the engaging frankness that has won him so many friends,"which can never happen in my unhappy experience.Waltzing,I blush to own it,means picking me up off the floor,and putting smelling salts to my nostrils.In other words,dear Miss Emily,it is the room that waltzes--not I.I can't look at those whirling couples there,with a steady head.Even the exquisite figure of our young hostess,when it describes flying circles,turns me giddy."Hearing this allusion to Cecilia,Emily drops to the level of the other girls.She too pays her homage to the Pope of private life.