He had once contemplated making Ethel his bride, and though the matrimonial idea had collapsed as completely as the political one, the envious, selfish misery of the "dog in the manger" was eating at his heartstrings.

He did not want Ethel; but oh, how he hated the thought of either John Thomas or that American Raw-don winning her! His seat at the dinner-table also annoyed him.

It was far enough from the objects of his resentment to prevent him hearing or interfering in their merry conversation; and he told himself with passionate indignation that Ethel had never once in all their intercourse been so beautiful and bright as she revealed herself that evening to those two Rawdon youths--one a mere loom-master, the other an American whom no one knew anything about.
The long, bewitching hours of the glorious evening added fuel to the flame of his anger.

He could only procure from Ethel the promise of one unimportant dance at the close of her programme; and the American had three dances, and the mere loom-man two.

And though he attempted to restore his self-complacency by devoting his whole attentions to the only titled young ladies in the room, he had throughout the evening a sense of being snubbed, and of being a person no longer of much importance at Rawdon Court.