To Be Crossed in Love

It has been said, by a wise, or perhaps only cynical man, that a young lady likes to be crossed in love once in a while. Indeed, every young lady ought to be sure to be crossed in love at least once in her life, if only for the invaluable lessons to be learned by the experience. Miss Margaret Pennyworth, being as well versed in universal truths as can reasonably be expected of a young lady of seventeen, knew this.  She was, after all, a great reader of novels, the most reliable source of universal truths known to mankind, and prided herself on the wealth of knowledge she had gleaned into the follies, foibles, and fancies of the generality of men and women through such extensive reading. It was, therefore, a source of some disappointment, and no little consternation, to Margaret that she had attained such a ripe age without ever once having been crossed at all, in love or otherwise.

This unfortunate circumstance was no doubt due to not only having overindulgent parents who could never see any wrong in her, but also living in a very small country neighborhood, of four or five families, all of a confined and unvarying nature. These families were populated almost entirely by daughters, the only sons being rather young children, who therefore did not count. Indeed, Margaret was beginning to think that she would have to leave her beloved village of Littlewood if she was ever to have a chance of meeting a young man to vex her, until one day she received the welcome news that an assembly was to be held in a neighboring town, and that there would be actual gentlemen there, and that she, Miss Margaret Pennyworth, was to attend.

The period of waiting for this grand occasion, approximately three fine days in the glorious springtime, was one of agony for dear Margaret, but at long last the evening of the assembly arrived, and, no tragedies having occurred in the ensuing three days to prevent her attendance, Margaret found herself being announced by the master of ceremonies in the assembly rooms of a much larger town than Littlewood. Her entrance created no stir, in spite of Miss Pennyworth being entirely unknown to the local populace, and soon enough poor Margaret found herself seated next to her mother on the outside edges of the festivities; knowing no one in the town, least of all gentlemen eligible or otherwise, she could not dance.

For a young lady who has never attended an assembly before, a dance partner is, fortunately, not absolutely required to provided diversion at the start of the evening, there being many charms in watching the dancing and admiring the finery of strangers, but eventually the most enthusiastic observer’s interest begins to flag watching other people enjoy themselves more than she is, and so, naturally, Margaret began to wish that she was acquainted with at least one young man, or even with someone who might introduce one to her. Fortunately, her doting mother’s affection for her child was greater than her adherence to propriety, and by a slight breach of etiquette on the part of her maternal parent, Margaret was was introduced to a well-looking gentleman of an age suitably above hers to make him an attractive marriage prospect.

The gentleman, a Mr. Bright, was exceedingly handsome, and very good-natured, and, Margaret was pleased to discover, a fine dancer, too. She went down the set with him in transports of glee, beginning very easily to fall in love, until, at an auspicious moment in their second dance, she realized that he was an entirely agreeable companion, with easy manners and a ready smile to add greatly to his attractions of wit and understanding. She had read enough novels to understand what this meant.

Mr. Bright did not seem to notice the sudden despondence of his partner, continuing to converse blithely with her until the music ended. Then he escorted her back to her mother’s side, and bowed gracefully to a solemn Margaret.

“Thank you, Miss Pennyworth,” Mr. Bright said with a devastating smile. “I hope to have the pleasure of meeting you again some time.”

“Oh, I hope you shall not, because you are very charming, and therefore I know you must be a cad!” Margaret cried, tears starting in her eyes. Then she fled the assembly hall, her mother crying after her, leaving an astonished young man to stare after her in perplexity.

Margaret cried the whole way home to Littlewood, and when her father greeted her upon her return with a hearty embrace, and asked her how she had enjoyed her first assembly, she sighed tremulously.

“Oh, Papa, I have been crossed in love! It was wonderful!” she cried, and took herself off to bed.