"Recollect, my dear Lucy," said she, "that if the Fates grant us a fine day to-morrow, it will be made up of a bright sun and a keen north wind; the only advantage of an airy toilet, is to make you look blue upon the course, and send you home with a severe cold."
The prospect of a cold did not seem to frighten Lucy, but she was keenly alive to the disadvantages of looking blue.
Harriet Conway looking up from the footstool upon which she was seated close to the fire, remarked that, "her costume gave her no sort of trouble, as she was to ride on horseback to the races."
Margaret looked at her with some surprise and no little envy, thinking what a bold, accomplished horsewoman she must be.
"How do you feel to-night, darling?" asked her mother.
"Oh! very comfortable," said Harriet, leaning her head on her mother's lap, as Lady Conway took the arm-chair beside her; "quite well as long as I have nothing to do that I don't like."
"How I wish that you could go to the ball to-morrow, dearest," said her mother.
"Thank you," said Harriet, "but that is one of the things I don't like; besides, after being on horseback all the morning, I shall be glad to go to bed as soon as I have seen you all off in your finery."
"Such a pity, so well as you dance the Mazourka," said Lucy Conway, "for one meets such nice people at this ball. I really think if you took proper care--"
"Oh! we will run no risks," said Lady Conway, anxiously, "you coughed at dinner, I observed."
"It was the pepper, _mamma mia_," said Harriet; "but I have no intention of going to the ball. Bessy! send me over that pretty little thing by your side. I have a mind to talk to her."
"What say you," asked Elizabeth smiling, "will you venture?"
Margaret complied with a little timidity in her manner.
"Why, you don't mean to say you are afraid of me," said Harriet taking Margaret's hand in her long, slender fingers, "I would excuse you, if I were a man. Well now, are you fond of riding?"
"I am just going to learn," said Margaret "it is the thing of all others I wish for."
"You ought to have begun younger," said Harriet, "but we will see what we can make of you. What is the colour of your riding-habit?"
"True blue," said Harriet looking intently into the fire; "how do you like Hubert Gage?"