Once on a time, so runs the fable,
A country mouse, right hospitable,
Received a town mouse at his board,
Just as a farmer would a lord.
POPE.
The dessert was scarcely laid on the table and the servants withdrawn,
when a clatter of pattens and a loud talking announced the arrival of
the guests from Deane. Mrs. Galton and Miss Seymour were anxious to
retire immediately; but Mrs. Sullivan was too busily engaged paying her
devoirs to a fine peach, and her second daughter in monopolizing those
of Mr. Mordaunt, to attend the signal; whilst Miss Webberly was
slanderously attributing to the family of "Gases" affinities and
products that never before had been hinted at; and was so eagerly bent
on astonishing Mr. Temple by a discourse "_EnflÈ de vent, vide de
raison_," that some minutes elapsed before the _debouching_ was
effected. They however reached the huge fire-place, now decked in all
the pride of summer's bloom, which marked the centre of the
old-fashioned hall, before the finishing strokes were given to the
toilets of the newly-arrived party. "I declare here they all come!"
exclaimed Mrs. Martin; "Lucy, my dear, hold up your head. Here, put this
pocket-handkerchief in your bonnet for night, whilst I just slip your
shoes and stockings into your ridicule." "How d'ye do, Mrs. Galton?
Thank ye, ma'am, my Lucy's used to walking--never catches cold. We were
twice at Vauxhall last spring two year. Well certainly, Miss Seymour,
the country air does agree with you; you look vastly well. Pray, my dear
miss, isn't that Mrs. Sullivan and the two Miss Webberlys? They don't
seem to remember me. I'll just go and ask whether the currant wine I
made 'em a present of was good or not." So saying, the active Mrs.
Martin bustled up to Mrs. Sullivan to recommence her usual string of
queries, without waiting for an answer to any one of those she had
already made with such uninterrupted volubility. But Mrs. Sullivan's
pomposity was not to be discomposed by any sudden attack. She was by
this time sitting, or rather reclining, (for reposing it could not be
called) on the high-backed, hard-bottomed, uncushioned, damask-covered
sofa, which had not yet resigned its proud and ancient place against the
side wall of Sir Henry's drawing-room. She was paying as much attention
to Mrs. Galton's conversation as repeated yawns would permit, an
attention ostentatiously redoubled at the entrance of Mrs. Martin, while
Mrs. Lucas was balancing herself on the edge of an immoveable arm-chair,
assiduously offering her assenting monosyllable, and smiling "he hem" at
the close of every sentence the two ladies uttered, however
contradictory its import might be to the last expressed opinion.
Mrs. Temple had in the mean time joined the young people who had
withdrawn to one of the deep recesses of the windows, collected together
in a groupe, by that indescribable attraction which is found in a
similarity of age, however unlike the characters or pursuits of the
different individuals may be. Some beautiful roses which filled an old
china vase, and scarcely rivalled its colours, served for the subject of
their conversation. "I suppose," said Miss Webberly, "you have plenty of
time, in this out of the way place, Miss Seymour, for the study of
botany and the fine arts. How I envy you! Now in town we have never no
time for nothing." "No, indeed," replied Miss Seymour, "I know nothing
of botany, though I delight in flowers." "Not understand botany!" "Why
indeed, my love Emily," interrupted Miss Cecilia Webberly, "no person
of taste likes those things now, they are quite out; indeed, 'the loves
of the plants' is a delightful book, that will always go down. I have it
almost off by heart. Don't you admire it, Miss Seymour?" "I have never
read it," answered Selina. "And what do you read?" continued Cecilia; "I
suppose you hardly ever get a new book at Slater's?" "Yes; do let us
hear what your studies are," said Miss Webberly, in a tone approaching
to contempt. "My employments scarcely deserve the name of studies,"
modestly replied Selina. "I am very fond of drawing, and spend a great
deal of time in that occupation; but any information I receive from
books has been principally gathered from what Augustus reads out to my
aunt and me, whilst my father sleeps in an evening." "How extatic must
be your communication with Mr. Temple, my dear madam!" said Miss
Webberly, turning from Selina to Mrs. Temple; "yours must be the feast
of reason and the flow of soul. Does the vegetable creation ever attract
your notice?" "Yes;" quietly answered Mrs. Temple; "but I principally
cultivate flowers for the sake of my bees; they, you know, are my second
nursery." "And pray, while you are practising horticulture, do you think
you ever suffer from imbibing the hydrogen?" "To tell you the truth, my
dear Miss Webberly, I feel I so little understand either hydrogen or
oxygen, that I never think about them." "Nothing more easy! nothing more
easy, I assure you! Every body learns chemistry in town. I always attend
the Royal Institution;--Sir Humphrey Davy is so dear! so animated! so
delightful! I once asked him, 'My dear Sir Davy,' says I, 'what's the
distinction between oxygen and hydrogen?' 'Why,' says he, 'one is pure
gin, and the other gin and water.'" Poor Selina was as little capable of
enjoying the scientifical jargon of Miss Webberly, as she was of
comprehending the more fluent discourse of her sister, who had already
talked over the contents of Slater's library with Miss Martin and Miss
Lucas, and astonished them with a minute description of the last spring
fashions. The arrival of the tea and coffee was therefore to her no
unwelcome interruption.
But the occupations attending the tea-table were scarcely commenced,
when the approach of Sir Henry Seymour from the dining-room was
announced by the quickly repeated sound of his knotted cane, which kept
due measure with his hurried footsteps along the well polished floor of
the hall, as it preserved the worthy baronet from its slippery
influence. "Why, Selina! Mrs. Galton! Selina!" exclaimed he, hastily
opening the door, "Who is it? what is it? are there any more asked to
day? have I forgot any one? bless my stars!" "What is the matter?"
exclaimed both ladies at once. "Matter!" quoth Sir Henry, "why a coach
and four's the matter, and a man galloping like the devil up the long
avenue is the matter. God forgive my swearing. Well, to be sure, that I
should never have thought of them! Who can it be? I have certainly
offended some of my neighbours! Good Lord!" The ladies had by this time
thronged to the windows to see the unusual sight, except Miss Webberly,
who affected to keep at a distance, though she could not refrain from
peeping over their heads as she stood on tip-toe. At the same instant,
all the family dogs joined in one chorus of welcome; and the equestrian,
arriving at full speed, jumped off his horse, and pulling the door-bell
with a vehemence it had seldom felt before, so electrified poor Sir
Henry, that he almost unconsciously repaired with unpremeditated haste
to the scene of action. "I say, old Square-toes," vociferated the
stranger, "is this Harry Seymour's castle?" "Ye-e-s," answered its
hospitable owner, whilst astonishment and indignation impeded his
utterance. "Ye-es! why you look as queer as the castle spectre yourself.
Well, send somebody for my horse, for here's my lord and lady; and, I
say, order beds." Perhaps Sir Henry would in his turn equally have
astonished his unexpected visitor, had not a sudden turn of the open
barouche, as it approached the door, presented to his view the faces of
Lord and Lady Eltondale. "Why, Gad's my life! Good Lord! Selina, here's
your aunt! Good Lord! well to be sure!" The name of "aunt," a title that
always called forth from Selina's affectionate heart sentiments of the
tenderest gratitude and delight, acted like a talisman on the lovely
girl, and brought her in an instant to the spot with sparkling eyes,
glowing cheeks, and steps of fairy lightness; while Mrs. Galton, who
better knew _the aunt_ she was about to meet, advanced to offer a more
sober, though not less polite reception.
From the side of the barouche next the door descended Lord Eltondale,
with as much activity as his unwieldy body would permit, encumbered as
it was by an immense bang-up coat, which, by a moderate computation of
the specific gravity of like solids, would in all probability have
increased the weight of the ponderous carcase it enclosed to nearly that
of his Lordship's own prize ox. With much less alacrity his fair spouse
prepared to alight; an open pelisse, wrapped in a thousand folds,
partially concealed her yet beautiful figure, while an enormous London
_rustic_ bonnet, with the affectation of simplicity and the real stamp
of fashion, equally disguised her face. During that time, Lord
Eltondale, in no subdued tone of voice, was expressing his lively
pleasure at meeting Sir Henry, almost dislocating Mrs. Galton's wrists
with the fervency of salutation, and with no less zeal imprinting
oscular proofs of satisfaction on the fair retiring cheek of his niece.
Lady Eltondale had full time to kiss her white hand in turn to each
individual, to commit her smelling-bottle and work bag to the particular
charge of the footman who had preceded them, and to descend leisurely
from the carriage with apparent timidity, but real anxiety, to save her
shawls, and exhibit her well-turned ancle to Mordaunt, who supported her
faltering steps.
"Why, Gad's my life, I'm glad to see you all, though I never should have
thought of it," exclaimed Sir Henry, his wig nearly as much turned round
as the brains underneath it. "Why, Bell, what the devil brings you
here?--Come to spend the summer, eh, with that chaise full of band
boxes? Well, to be sure, to think of your coming to Deane Hall again!
But I can't reach your mouth till you kick off that trumpet you've on."
"Good God!" exclaimed Lady Eltondale with an involuntary shudder, but
instantaneously recovering herself, "I am quite delighted, my dear
brother, to find you in such charming spirits. How do, Mrs. Galton? I
declare you look younger than ever. And Selina! why, child, you are
almost as tall as I am." Selina's first impulse had been to throw
herself into Lady Eltondale's arms, believing innocently that an "aunt"
was another Mrs. Galton. But the boisterous _bonhomie_ of the Viscount's
compliments, and still more the fashionable frigidity of Lady
Eltondale's address, were repulsive to her feelings, and she
unconsciously withdrew to that part of the hall to which Mordaunt had
retired, whilst a tear trembled on her long eye-lashes. "She is not at
all like aunt Mary," said Selina in a half whisper, "I'm sure I shan't
like her." "But she will surely like you, Selina," answered
Mordaunt.--"Come, you foolish girl," continued he, taking her hand,
"don't you know aunt Mary said this morning, you were almost old enough
to do the honours yourself! Let us see your _coup d'essai_." Meantime
Sir Henry and Mrs. Galton led the travellers to the drawing-room, and
introduced them to the wondering party they had left there.
Lady Eltondale returned their salutations with a sweeping reverence,
between a bow and a curtsy, accompanied by one of her most fascinating
smiles; and walking deliberately to the head of the room, "I am afraid,
my dear Mrs. Galton, we have discomposed you;--we have arrived at an
unseasonable moment," said her Ladyship in a voice of dulcet sweetness;
though this demi-apology was accompanied by a look round the room, which
plainly indicated that the fair speaker felt assured her arrival would
at any time have discomposed _such_ a company. "Well, Sir Henry,"
bellowed out Lord Eltondale, "how goes on the farm? I shall taste your
beef admirably--I'm confoundedly hungry." "Hungry!--Beef--Good
Lord!--Bless my heart, haven't dined yet? Now I should never have
thought of that! Why, Selina! Mrs. Galton! Selina! do order something to
be got ready directly. Bless my heart--not dined! why it's past seven
o'clock! James! John! I say, Wilson!" "Pray, my dear brother," said the
Viscountess, seating herself, "don't trouble yourself; a p‚ttiÈ, a
Maintenon, anything will do for us." "Aye, aye, Sir Henry, give us a
beef steak or a mutton chop; any thing will do for us, if there is but
enough." Lady Eltondale's fragile form underwent that species of
delicate convulsion, between a shudder of horror and a shrug of
contempt, which was her usual commentary on her lord's speeches; and
very calmly untying her bonnet, she threw it on a chair at some
distance, and discovered a little French cap, from beneath which a
glossy ringlet of jet black hair had strayed not quite unbidden. She
then no less leisurely proceeded to slip from under her silken coat, of
which young Webberly, with officious velocity, flew to relieve her,
though she still retained as many shawls as she could well dispose of in
attitudinal drapery, without regarding the too apparent contrast they
formed to the transparent summer clothing, which shaded, but scarcely
hid her once perfect form. Mrs. Sullivan's impatience to be recognized
would not suffer her to wait till the tedious ceremony of disrobing was
finished; but finding her curtsies, and her nods, and her smiles, and
her flutterings, had not yet procured her the notice she was so
ambitious to obtain, she gave an audible preluding "hem!" and then
addressed Lady Eltondale with "'Pon honour, my lady, I'm delighted to
counter your ladyship. Your ladyship looks wastly vell. How is that 'ere
pretty cretur, your Ladyship's monkey?" Lady Eltondale turning her head
quickly round at the first sound of the sharp discordant voice that now
assailed her ear, saw something so irresistibly attractive in the vessel
of clay from which it proceeded, that she found it impossible
immediately to withdraw her eyes, and, taking up her glass, remained in
total silence for some moments, examining the grotesque figure opposite
to her, displayed as it was to particular advantage in the operation of
opening and shutting a brilliant scarlet fan with accelerated motion.
"Forgive me, my dear madam--I am quite ashamed; but really your name has
escaped my recollection:--your person I should think impossible to
forget." A polite inclination of an admirably turned head and neck
concealed the sarcasm of this equivocal compliment. "To be sure, my
lady," continued the gratified Mrs. Sullivan, "ve town ladies can't get
our wisiting lists off book like primers, he! he! he!--Sulliwan, my
lady, Sulliwan's my name, and them there two girls are my daughters, and
that there----" "Indeed, Mrs. Silly-one, you do me much honour,"
interrupted her Ladyship. "Selina, my love, I want to talk to you;--how
goes on music?" "I think, Lady Eltondale," said Miss Cecilia Webberly,
with assumed _nonchalance_, "the last time you and I were together was
at the Lord Mayor's ball--a sweet girl that Lucy Nathin is!" "Brother,
you must let La Fayette dress this dear girl's hair to-morrow; these
ringlets will be _superbe_ done _‡ la corbeille_." "Yes, my Lady, I
quite agree with you, my Lady. All Miss Seymour vants is a little
winishing and warnishing, as we hearties say. Her bodies ought to be cut
down, my Lady; and her petticoats cut up, my Lady, and she would be
quite another guess figure, my Lady. Six weeks in town would quite
halter her hair and her mane; and as for music, Pinsheette's the man to
improve her in vice." "Pucit-ta-a-a, mother!" screamed Cecilia, "can you
ever learn that man's name?"
A most opportune summons to the "beef-steak" relieved Lady Eltondale
from the discussion, which was on the point of commencing between mother
and daughter. She rose with an air of dignity, that immediately silenced
both combatants; and, while she leaned on Sir Henry's offered arm, she
drew Selina's through her own, and, turning to Mrs. Galton, said with a
bewitching smile, "You must spare this Hebe to be my cup-bearer. I
almost envy you having monopolized her so long, notwithstanding all she
has gained by it." Mordaunt, who had hitherto stood aloof, now advanced
to open the door for them, and smiled significantly to Selina as they
passed; while Webberly, who had just sense enough to perceive the
distance of Lady Eltondale's manner, called loudly for his mother's
carriage. The rest of the party, who had hitherto remained in dumb
astonishment, gladly took the hint, and began the tedious ceremony of
curtsying, bidding good night, and packing up; leaving Mrs. Galton at
liberty to do the honours of the second dinner table, which lasted till
nearly the hour when the good Baronet usually retired to rest.