state and condition of being matrimonially engaged without good grounds for so doing; Miss Price had brought it about by indulging in three motives of action; first, a desire to punish her friend for laying claim to a rivalship in dignity, having no good title; secondly, the gratification of her own vanity in receiving the compliments of a smart young man; and thirdly, a wish to convince the corn-factor of the great danger he ran, in deferring the celebration of their expected nuptials: while Nicholas had brought it about by half an hour s gaiety and thoughtlessness, and a very sincere desire to avoid the imputation of inclining at all to Miss Squeers. So, that the means employed, and the end produced, were alike the most natural in the world: for young ladies will look forward to being married, and will jostle each other in the race to the altar, and will avail themselves of all opportunities of displaying their own attractions to the best advantage, down to the very end of time as they have done from its beginning.
"Why, and here's Fanny in tears now!" exclaimed Miss Price, as if in fresh amazement. "What can be the matter?"
"Oh! you don't know. Miss, of course you don't know. Pray don't trouble yourself to inquire," said Miss Squeers, producing that change of countenance which children call making a face.
"Well, I'm sure," exclaimed Miss Price.
"And who cares whether you are sure or not, ma'am?" retorted Miss Squeers, making another face.
"You are monstrous polite, ma'am," said Miss Price.
"I shall not come to you to take lessons in the art, ma'am," retorted Miss Squeers.
"You needn't take the trouble to make yourself plainer than you are, ma'am, however," rejoined Miss Price, "because that's quite unnecessary."
Miss Squeers in reply turned very red, and thanked God that she hadn't got the bold faces of some people, and Miss Price in rejoinder congratulated herself upon not being possessed of the envious feeling of other people; whereupon Miss Squeers made some general remark touching the danger of associating with low persons, in which Miss Price entirely coincided, observing that it was very true indeed, and she had thought so a long time.
"'Tilda," exclaimed Miss Squeers with dignity, "I hate you."
"Ah! There's no love lost between us I assure you," said Miss Price, tying her bonnet strings with a jerk. "You'll cry your eyes out when I'm gone, you know you will."
"I scorn your words. Minx," said Miss Squeers.
"You pay me a great compliment when you say so," answered the miller's daughter, curtseying very low. "Wish you a very good night, ma'am, and pleasant dreams attend your sleep."
With this parting benediction Miss Price swept from the room, followed by the, huge Yorkshireman, who exchanged with Nicholas at parting, that peculiarly expressive scowl with which the cut-and-thrust counts in melo-dramatic performances inform each other they will meet again.
They were no sooner gone than Miss Squeers fulfilled the prediction of her quondam friend by giving vent to a most copious burst of tears.
