|Rose Hartley made a charming lady's maid.
She was so pretty, dressed so neatly, had such nice manners, and was
so cheerful, good-natured, and obliging, that the two young ladies were
enchanted with her.
They had a dressing-room in common, and nothing pleased them better than
a chat with the lively little damsel, while she dressed their hair, or
assisted in making their toilettes. While thus employed, Rose appeared
to the greatest advantage, and the pretty soubrette, whose figure
rivalled those of her mistresses, in her neat morning dress, and the
two lovely girls, in their very becoming dishabille, formed a picture of
grace and beauty.
Brought together in this way, it was quite natural that she should
relate her little story to them. They had listened to it with much
interest, and expressed the greatest indignation at the annoyance she
had experienced, but advised her not to trouble herself, as they felt
sure her persecutor would not dare to annoy her now.
One morning, however, she showed them a letter she had just received,
and evidently from the same source. In it the writer said he had just
discovered her abode, and would pay her a visit ere long.
They were inclined to laugh at it, and treat it with contempt; but, as
she seemed uneasy, they advised her to consult Mr. Higgins, the butler,
who had been very kind to her, and treated her like a daughter.
Higgins recommended her not to go out unattended for a few days, as she
might be annoyed; but added if the gentleman ventured to call at the
house, he would have reason to repent his audacity.
When the young ladies heard what the butler said, they thought he was
quite right; but Emmeline added, “You sha'n't be kept in-doors by this
impudent varlet, who deserves to be horsewhipped. Lady Thicknesse says
we can have the carriage whenever we please. We'll take it out this
morning, and you shall go with us.”
Delighted beyond measure, Hose essayed to express her thanks.
“We'll pay your mother a visit,” pursued Emmeline. “We want to see her.”
“But I should have liked to give her some notice of your kind
intentions,” said Rose, rather embarrassed.
“No; that would defeat our object,” said Mildred. “We wish to take her
by surprise.”
Rose had nothing more to say, so the carriage was ordered at once.
All three got into it, and were driven to the esplanade near Lambeth
Bridge, where they alighted, and walked towards Spencer's Rents.
Emmeline would not allow the footman to accompany them.
Great was Mrs. Hartley's confusion at this unexpected visit.
She was busy in the kitchen at the time, and when Rose rushed in to tell
her Miss Barfleur and Miss Calverley were at the house, she uttered a
cry of astonishment, and blamed her daughter for not letting her know
beforehand.
“Don't scold her, Mrs. Hartley,” cried Emmeline, who heard all that was
passing. “We wouldn't allow her to prepare you for our visit. We wanted
to see you just as you are.”
“Dear me! it's very kind of you, miss!” cried the good dame, not
venturing to show herself. “Be pleased to step into the parlour, and
I'll come to you as soon as I've put myself a little to rights. Rose
will show you the way.”
Smiling as they went into the little room, which they thought very tidy
and well furnished, the young ladies sat down, and sent Rose to her
mother, who presently came in, and made many apologies for keeping them
waiting.
Both were very much pleased by her appearance, and after she had been
presented to each of them in turn, she said to Mildred:
“And so you're Mr. Chetwynd's sister, miss? Well, I don't see any great
resemblance.”
“I never was considered very much like my brother,” observed Mildred,
smiling.
“Ah, you might be proud of resembling him, miss; for he's a very fine
young gentleman. Don't you agree with me, miss?” she added, turning to
Emmeline.
“Yes; he is generally considered very good-looking,” replied the young
lady, slightly blushing--a circumstance that Mrs. Hartley did not fail
to remark, “Whoever gets Mr. Chetwynd for a husband will do well,” she
said. “Of that I'm certain.”
And she would have launched still more strongly into his praises, had
not Rose checked her.
“I'm very glad to have an opportunity of thanking you for your great
kindness to my brother, dear Mrs. Hartley,” observed Mildred. “He always
speaks of you with gratitude, and says you were quite like a mother to
him.”
“I felt like one,” she replied. “It touched my heart to see him. But,
Heaven be thanked! all that's gone by, and I trust he's happy, as he
deserves to be Nothing would please me better than to hear that he has
found some charming young lady to------”
“All in good time, Mrs. Hartley,” interrupted Mildred. “You shall be let
into the secret, I promise you, as soon as there is one to communicate.”
Mrs. Hartley looked as if she thought that would be very soon, but she
didn't venture to give utterance to her sentiments.
“And now let us speak about your daughter, Mrs. Hartley,” said Emmeline.
“We came to talk of her. She will tell you, I think, that she is happy
in her new place.”
“I ought to be,” said Rose; “since every kindness is shown me.”
But she sighed as the words were uttered.
“Ah, you can't help thinking of Harry Netterville, I suppose?” observed
her mother. “He doesn't deserve your love. These dear young ladies shall
hear my opinion of him.”
“Not unless it's favourable,” said Emmeline.
“Well, I've nothing to say against him, except that I don't want to have
the engagement renewed,” replied Mrs. Hartley.
“Why not?” asked both young ladies, eagerly.
“Because I don't think it would be for my daughter's advantage.”
“I'm afraid she will never be satisfied without him,” said Mildred.
“If I thought so, I wouldn't oppose it,” rejoined the good dame.
“Then take the assurance from us,” said both young ladies, earnestly.
“After that, I have nothing to say,” observed Mrs. Hartley. “Rose must
decide for herself.”
“Oh, thank you, dearest mother!” exclaimed her daughter, kissing her. “I
should then say that if----”
Her speech was here interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Good gracious! I hope nobody is calling,” said Mrs. Hartley.
“Don't mind us,” cried the young ladies.
“You had better not let anybody in, mother,” whispered Rose.
As Mrs. Hartley went out she closed the parlour door after her.
But some conversation could be heard going on in the passage. Familiar
tones reached Rose's ears, and she said to the young ladies:
“I do believe it is Harry Netterville himself!”
“How strange if it should be!” cried Mildred.
Next moment Mrs. Hartley returned, her countenance wearing a very
singular expression.
“Who do you think has just come in?” she said to her daughter.
“I know very well--Harry Netterville,” replied Rose.
“Yes; he knows you are here. What shall I say to him for you?”
Before answering, Rose looked at the young ladies, as much as to ask,
“What do you advise?”
“See him, by all means,” observed Emmeline.
“Alone?”
“No; here.”
“Bring him in, my dear mother,” said Rose.
No culprit ever presented a more abject appearance than did Harry
Netterville, as he entered the room with Mrs. Hartley. He seemed
thoroughly ashamed of himself, and could hardly look at the young
ladies.
“May I ask what has brought you here this morning, Mr. Netterville?”
inquired Rose.
“I didn't expect to find you, dearest Rose,” he replied, in a
penitential tone, that touched all the listeners except the one it was
meant to move. “I came to see your mother.”
“Why do you address me as 'dearest Rose?'” said the young damsel, rather
severely.
“You are still dear to me, and must ever remain so,” he replied. “I
confess I have behaved very badly.”
“Well, the poor fellow can't say more,” said Emmeline, moved by his
looks and manner. “I hope you will forgive him.”
“Do,” added Mildred.
Netterville awaited his sentence with anxiety; but Rose did not seem
inclined to pardon him at once.
“You have acted so unreasonably that I cannot forgive you till you have
made some amends,” she said.
“I am ready to do anything you may enjoin,” he replied.
“You shall deliver me from the annoyance to which I have been subjected,
and which has caused our disagreement,” she replied. “You shall find out
the writer of that anonymous letter to yourself, and who has likewise
written other infamous letters to me, and punish him--punish him as
he deserves. When you have done this, I will forgive you, but not till
then.”
“We quite approve of your decision, Rose,” said Mildred, “and till Mr.
Netterville has done this he doesn't deserve your regard. He ought not
to hesitate.”
“I don't hesitate,” he replied, energetically.
“That's right,” said Rose. “I begin to like you again. Here is the last
letter I have received. Read it,” she added, tossing it to him.
After scanning its contents, Netterville turned pale. “And this has just
reached you?” he asked, with quivering lips.
“Yesterday,” she replied.
“The writer must be discovered,” he said.