Count Altenberg arrived at Clermont-park, and as Lord Oldborough
was still confined by the gout, Commissioner Falconer, to his lady’s
infinite satisfaction, was deputed to show him every thing that was
worth seeing in this part of the country. Every morning some party was
formed by Mrs. Falconer, and so happily arranged that her Georgiana and
the count were necessarily thrown together. The count rode extremely
well; Miss Falconers had been taught to ride in a celebrated
riding-house, and were delighted to display their equestrian graces.
When they were not disposed to ride, the count had a phaeton; and Mrs.
Falconer a barouche; and either in the phaeton, or the barouche
seat, Miss Georgiana Falconer was seated with the count, who, as she
discovered, drove uncommonly well.
The count had expressed a desire to see the place where M. de Tourville
had been shipwrecked, and he really wished to be introduced to the Percy
family, of whom, from the specimen he had seen in Alfred, and from all
the hospitality they had shown the distressed mariners (some of whom
were his countrymen), he had formed a favourable opinion. Half his
wish was granted, the rest dispersed in empty air. Mrs. Falconer with
alacrity arranged a party for Percy-hall, to show the count the scene
of the shipwreck. She should be so glad to see it herself, for she
was absent from the country at the time of the sad disaster; but the
commissioner, who knew the spot, and all the circumstances, better than
any other person, would show them every thing--and Sir Robert Percy,
she was sure, would think himself much honoured by Count Altenberg’s
visiting his place.
Count Altenberg had some confused recollection of Mr. Alfred Percy’s
having told him that his father no longer lived at Percy hall; but
this speech of Mrs. Falconer’s led the count to believe that he had
misunderstood what Alfred had said.
The party arranged for Percy-hall consisted of the Miss Falconers,
the two Lady Arlingtons, and some other young people, who were at
Falconer-court. It was a fine morning, Mrs. Falconer was all suavity and
smiles, both the Miss Falconers in charming hopes, and consequently in
charming spirits.
Percy-hall was really a beautiful place, and Miss Arabella Falconer now
looked at it with the pleasure of anticipated possession. Sir Robert
Percy was not at home, he had been obliged that morning to be absent
on some special business; but he had left orders with his steward and
housekeeper to show the party of visitors the house and grounds. In
going through the apartments they came to the gallery leading to the
library, where they were stopped by some workmen’s trestles, on which
were lying two painted glass windows, one that had been taken down, and
another which was to be put in its stead. Whilst the workmen were moving
the obstacles out of the way, the company had leisure to admire the
painted windows. One of them was covered with coats of arms: the
other represented the fire at Percy-hall, and the portrait of Caroline
assisting the old nurse down the staircase. This painting immediately
fixed Count Altenberg’s eye, and Miss Georgiana Falconer, not knowing
whose portrait it was, exclaimed, as she looked at the figure of
Caroline, “Beautiful! Exquisite! What a lovely creature that is
assisting the old woman!”
“Yes,” said Count Altenberg, “it is one of the finest countenances I
ever beheld.”
All the ladies eagerly pressed forward to look at it.
“Beautiful! Don’t you think it is something like Lady Anne Cope?” said
Miss Falconer.
“Oh! dear, no!” cried Miss Georgiana Falconer: “it is a great deal
handsomer than any of the Copes ever were, or ever will be!”
“It has a look of Lady Mary Nesbitt,” said one of the Lady Arlingtons.
“The eyes are so like Lady Coningsby, who is my delight,” said
Georgiana.
“And it has quite the Arlington nose,” said Mrs. Falconer, glancing her
eye upon the Lady Arlingtons. Count Altenberg, without moving his eye,
repeated, “It is the most beautiful face I ever beheld.”
“Not nearly so beautiful as the original, sir,” said the painter.
“The original?--Is it a copy?”
“A portrait, sir.”
“Oh! a family portrait of one of our great, great grandmother Percys, I
suppose,” said Miss Georgiana, “done in her youth--in a fancy piece,
you know, according to the taste of those times--she must have been
superlatively lovely.”
“Ma’am,” said the painter, “the young lady, of whom this is a portrait,
is, I hope and believe, now living.”
“Where?--and who can she be?--for I am sure I don’t recollect ever
having seen her in all my life--never met her in town any where--Pray,
sir, who may it be?” added she, turning to the artist, with a mixture of
affected negligence and real pride.
“Miss Caroline Percy, ma’am.”
“A daughter of Sir Robert Percy--of the gentleman of this house?” said
Count Altenberg eagerly.
Mrs. Falconer, and her daughter Georgiana, answered rapidly, with looks
of alarm, as they stood a little behind the count.
“Oh! no, no, Count Altenberg,” cried Mrs. Falconer, advancing, “not a
daughter of the gentleman of this house--another family, relations, but
distant relations of the commissioner’s: _he_ formerly knew something of
them, but _we_ know nothing of them.”
The painter however knew a great deal, and seemed anxious to tell all he
knew: but Mrs. Falconer walked on immediately, saying, “This is our way,
is not it? This leads to the library, where, I dare say, we shall find
the book which the count wanted.” The count heard her not, for with
his eyes fixed on the picture he was listening to the account which
the painter was giving of the circumstance it recorded of the fire at
Percy-hall--of the presence of mind and humanity of Miss Caroline Percy,
who had saved the life of the poor decrepit woman, who in the picture
was represented as leaning upon her arm. The painter paused when he came
to this part of his story--“That woman was my mother, sir.”--He went
on, and with all the eloquence of filial affection and of gratitude,
pronounced in a few words a panegyric on the family who had been his
first and his best benefactors: all who heard him were touched with his
honest warmth, except the Miss Falconers.
“I dare say _those_ Percys were very good people in their day,” said
Miss Falconer; “but their day is over, and no doubt you’ll find, in the
present possessor of the estate, sir, as good a patron at least.”
The artist took up his pencil without making any reply, and went on with
some heraldic devices he was painting.
“I am amazed how you could see any likeness in that face or figure to
Lady Anne Cope, or Lady Mary Nesbitt, or any of the Arlingtons,” said
Miss Georgiana Falconer, looking through her hand at the portrait of
Caroline: “it’s the most beautiful thing I ever saw, certainly; but
there’s nothing of an air of fashion, and without that--”
“Count Altenberg, I have found for you the very book I heard you tell
the commissioner last night you wished so much to see,” said Mrs.
Falconer. The count went forward to receive the book, and to thank the
lady for her polite attention; she turned over the leaves, and showed
him some uncommonly fine prints, which he was bound to admire--and
whilst he was admiring, Mrs. Falconer found a moment to whisper to her
daughter Georgiana, “Not a word more about the picture: let it alone,
and it is only a picture--dwell upon it, and you make it a reality.”
Miss Georgiana had quickness and ability sufficient to feel the value
of her mother’s knowledge of the world and of human nature, but she had
seldom sufficient command of temper to imitate or to benefit by Mrs.
Falconer’s address. On this occasion she contented herself with venting
her spleen on the poor painter, whose colouring and drapery she began
to criticize unmercifully. Mrs. Falconer, however, carried off the count
with her into the library, and kept him there, till the commissioner,
who had been detained in the neighbouring village by some electioneering
business, arrived; and then they pursued their walk together through the
park. Miss Falconer was particularly delighted with the beauties of
the grounds. Miss Georgiana, recovering her good-humour, was again
charming--and all went on well; till they came near the sea-shore, and
the count asked Commissioner Falconer to show him the place where the
shipwreck had happened. She was provoked that his attention should be
withdrawn from her, and again by these Percys. The commissioner called
to one of the boatmen who had been ordered to be in readiness, and asked
him to point out the place where the Dutch vessel had been wrecked. The
man, who seemed rather surly, replied that they could not see the right
place where they stood, and if they had a mind to see it, they must come
into the boat, and _row a piece_ up farther.
Now some of these town-bred ladies were alarmed at the idea of going to
sea, and though Miss Georgiana was very unwilling to be separated from
the count, and though her mother encouraged the young lady to vanquish
her fears as much by precept and as little by example as possible, yet
when she was to be handed into the boat, she drew back in pretty terror,
put her hands before her face, and protested she could not venture even
with Count Altenberg. After as much waste of words as the discussion
of such arrangements on a party of pleasure usually involves, it was at
length settled that only the commissioner should accompany the count,
that the rest of the gentlemen and ladies should pursue their walk,
and that they should all meet again at the park-gate. The surly boatman
rowed off, but he soon ceased to be surly when the count spoke of the
humanity and hospitality which had been shown to some of his countrymen
by Mr. Percy. Immediately the boatman’s tongue was loosed.
“Why, ay, sir, if you bees curous about _that_ there gentleman, I can
tell you a deal about him. But them as comes to see the new man does not
covet to hear talk of the old master; but, nevertheless, there’s none
like him--he gave me and wife that there white cottage yonder, half ways
up the bank, where you see the smoke rising between the trees--as snug
a cottage it is!--But that is no matter to you, sir. But I wish you had
but _seed_ him the night of the shipwreck, he and his son, God above
bless him, and them--wherever they are, if they’re above ground. I’d row
out the worse night ever we had, to set my eyes on them again before I
die, but for a minute. Ay, that night of the shipwreck, not a man was
willing to go out with them, or could be got out the first turn, but
myself.”
Upon this text he spoke at large, entering into a most circumstantial
and diffuse history of the shipwreck, mingling his own praises with
those which he heartily bestowed upon the Percys of the right good old
branch. Commissioner Falconer meantime was not in a condition to throw
in any thing in favour of his new friend Sir Robert Percy; he was taking
pinch after pinch of snuff, looking alternately at the water and the
boat, sitting stiffly upright in anxious silence. Although in the
incessant practice of suppressing his own feelings, corporeal and
mental, from respect or complaisance to his superiors in rank and
station, yet he presently found it beyond the utmost efforts of his
courtly philosophy to endure his qualms of mind and body. Interrupting
the talkative boatman, he first conjured the orator to mind what he was
about; at last, Mr. Falconer complaining of growing very sick, the count
gave up all thoughts of proceeding farther, and begged the boatman to
put them ashore as soon as he could. They landed near the village, which
it was necessary that they should pass through, before they could reach
the appointed place of meeting. The poor commissioner, whose stomach was
still disordered, and whose head was giddy, observed that they had yet
a long walk to take, and proposed sending for one of the
carriages--accordingly they waited for it at the village inn. The
commissioner, after having made a multitude of apologies to the count,
retired to rest himself--during his absence, the count, who, wherever
he was, endeavoured to see as much as possible of the manners of
the people, began talking to the landlord and landlady. Again the
conversation turned upon the characters of the late and the present
possessors of Percy-hall; and the good people, by all the anecdotes they
told, and still more by the warm attachment they expressed for the old
banished family, increased every moment his desire to be personally
acquainted with those who in adversity were preferred to persons in
present power and prosperity. Count Altenberg, young as he was, had
seen enough of the world to feel the full value of eulogiums bestowed
on those who are poor, and who have no means of serving in any way the
interests of their panegyrists.
When the carriage came, and the commissioner was sufficiently refitted
for conversation, the count repeatedly expressed his earnest wish
to become acquainted with that Mr. Percy and his family, to whom his
countrymen had been so much obliged, and of whom he said he had this
morning heard so many interesting anecdotes. The commissioner had not
been present when the count saw the picture of Caroline, nor indeed
did he enter into Mrs. Falconer’s matrimonial designs for her daughter
Georgiana. The commissioner generally saw the folly, and despaired of
the success, of all castle-building but his own, and his castles in
the air were always on a political plan. So without difficulty he
immediately replied that nothing would give him more pleasure than to
introduce the count to his relations, the Percys. The moment this was
mentioned, however, to Mrs. Falconer, the commissioner saw through the
complacent countenance, with which she forced herself to listen to him,
that he had made some terrible blunder, for which he should have to
answer in private.
Accordingly the first moment they were alone, Mrs. Falconer reproached
him with the rash promise he had made. “I shall have all the difficulty
in the world to put this out of the count’s head. I thought, Mr.
Falconer, that you had agreed to let _those_ Percys drop.”
“So I would if I could, my dear; but how can I, when Lord Oldborough
persists in holding them up?--You must go and see them, my dear.”
“I!” cried Mrs. Falconer, with a look of horror; “I!--not I, indeed!
Lord Oldborough holds up only the gentlemen of the family--his lordship
has nothing to do with the ladies, I suppose. Now, you know visiting can
go on vastly well, to all eternity, between the gentlemen of a family
without the ladies having any sort of intimacy or acquaintance even.
You and Mr. Percy--if it is necessary for appearance sake with Lord
Oldborough--may continue upon the old footing; but I charge you,
commissioner, do not involve me--and whatever happens, don’t take Count
Altenberg with you to the Hills.”
“Why not, my dear?”
“My dear, I have my reasons. You were not in the gallery at Percy-hall
this morning, when the count saw that painted glass window?”
The commissioner begged an explanation; but when he had heard all Mrs.
Falconer’s reasons, they did not seem to strike him with the force she
desired and expected.
“I will do as you please, my dear,” said he, “and, if I can, I will make
the count forget my promised introduction to the Percys; but all the
time, depend upon it, your fears and your hopes are both equally vain.
You ladies are apt to take it for granted that men’s heads are always
running on love.”
“Young men’s heads sometimes are,” said Mrs. Falconer.
“Very seldom in these days,” said the commissioner. “And love
altogether, as one should think you might know by this time, Mrs.
Falconer--a sensible woman of the world, as you are; but no woman, even
the most sensible, can ever believe it--love altogether has surprisingly
little to do in the real management and business of the world.”
“Surprisingly little,” replied Mrs. Falconer, placidly. “But seriously,
my dear, here is an opportunity of making an excellent match for
Georgiana, if you will be so obliging as not to counteract me.”
“I am the last man in the world to counteract you, my dear; but it
will never do,” said Mr. Falconer; “and you will only make Georgiana
ridiculous, as she has been several times already, from the failure of
these love-matches. I tell you, Mrs. Falconer, Count Altenberg is no
more thinking of love than I am--nor is he a man in the least likely to
fall in love.”
“He is more than half in love with my Georgiana already,” said the
mother, “if I have any eyes.”
“You have eyes, and very fine eyes, my dear, as every body knows, and no
one better than myself--they have but one defect.”
“Defect!”
“They sometimes see more than exists.”
“You would not be so incredulous, Mr. Falconer, if you had seen the
rapture with which the count listens to Georgiana when she plays on the
harp. He is prodigiously fond of music.”
“And of painting too,” said the commissioner; “for, by your account of
the matter, he seemed to have been more than half in love also with a
picture this morning.”
“A picture is no very dangerous rival, except in a _modern novel_,”
replied Mrs. Falconer. “But beware, commissioner--and remember, I
understand these things--I warn you in time--beware of the original of
that picture, and never again talk to me of going to see those Percys;
for though the girl may be only an unfashioned country beauty, and
Georgiana has so many polished advantages, yet there is no knowing what
whim a young man might take into his head.”
The commissioner, though he remained completely of his own opinion, that
Mrs. Falconer’s scheme for Georgiana would never do, disputed the point
no farther, but left the room, promising all she required, for promises
cost him nothing. To do him justice, he recollected and endeavoured to
the best of his power to keep his word; for the next morning he took
his time so well to propose a ride to the Hills, just at the moment when
Lord Oldborough and the count were deep in a conversation on the state
of continental politics, that his lordship would not part with him. The
commissioner paid his visit alone, and Mrs. Falconer gave him credit for
his address; but scarcely had she congratulated herself, when she
was thrown again into terror--the commissioner had suggested to Lord
Oldborough the propriety and policy of giving, whilst he was in the
country, a _popularity ball_! His lordship assented, and Mrs. Falconer,
as usual, was to take the trouble off his hands, and to give an
entertainment, to his lordship’s friends. Lord Oldborough had not yet
recovered from the gout, and he was glad to accept of her offer: his
lordship not being able to appear, or to do the honours of the fête, was
a sufficient apology for his not giving it at Clermont-park.
The obsequious commissioner begged to have a list of any friends whom
Lord Oldborough particularly wished to have invited; but his lordship,
with a look of absence, replied, that he left all that entirely to Mrs.
Falconer; however, the very evening of the day on which the commissioner
paid his visit alone at the Hills, Lord Oldborough put into his hands a
list of the friends whom he wished should be invited to the ball, and at
the head of his list were the Percys.
“The Percys! the very people I first thought of!” said Mr. Falconer,
commanding his countenance carefully: “but I fear we cannot hope to have
them, they are at such a distance, and they have no carriage.”
“Any of my carriages, all of them, shall be at their command,” said Lord
Oldborough.
The commissioner reported this to Mrs. Falconer, observing that he had
gone to the very brink of offending Lord Oldborough to oblige her, as
he knew by his lordship’s look and tone of voice; and that nothing now
could be done, but to visit the Percys, and as soon as possible, and to
send them a card of invitation for the ball.
“And, my dear, whatever you do, I am sure will be done with a good
grace,” added the commissioner, observing that his lady looked
excessively discomfited.
“Very well, commissioner; you will have your daughter upon your hands,
that’s all.”
“I should be as sorry for that, my love, as you could be; but what can
be done? we must not lose the substance in running after the shadow.
Lord Oldborough might turn short round upon us.”
“Not the least likely upon such a trifling occasion as this, where no
politics are in question. What can Mrs. or Miss Percy’s being or not
being at this ball signify to Lord Oldborough?--a man who never in his
life thought of balls or cared any thing about women, and these are
women whom he has never seen. What interest can it possibly be of Lord
Oldborough’s?”
“I cannot tell you, my dear--I don’t see any immediate interest. But
there’s an old private friendship in the case. Some way or other,
I declare I cannot tell you how, that old cousin Percy of mine has
contrived to get nearer to Lord Oldborough than any one living ever
could do--nearer to his heart.”
“Heart!--Private friendship!” repeated Mrs. Falconer, with a tone of
ineffable contempt. “Well, I only wish you had said nothing about the
matter to Lord Oldborough; I could have managed it myself. Was there
ever such want of address! When you saw the Percys at the head of the
list, was that a time to say any thing about your fears of their not
coming? Do you think Lord Oldborough could not translate fears into
hopes? Then to mention their having no carriages!--when, if you had kept
your own counsel, that would have been our sufficient excuse at last.
They must have refused: nothing need have been said about it till the
night of the ball; and I would lay my life, Lord Oldborough would never,
in the mean time, have thought of it, or of them. But so silly! to
object in that way, when you know that the slightest contradiction
wakens Lord Oldborough’s will, and then indeed you might as well talk to
his own Jupiter Tonans. If his lordship had set a beggar-woman’s name at
the head of his list, and you had objected that she had no carriage,
he would directly have answered ‘She shall have mine.’ Bless me! It’s
wonderful that people can pique themselves on address, and have so
little knowledge of character.”
“My dear,” said the commissioner, “if you reproach me from this time
till to-morrow, the end of the matter will be, that you must go and see
the Percys. I say, Mrs. Falconer,” added he, assuming a peremptory tone,
for which he had acquired a taste from Lord Oldborough, but had seldom
courage or opportunity to indulge in it, “I say, Mrs. Falconer, the
thing must be done.” He rang the bell in a gloriously authoritative
manner, and ordered the carriage.
A visit paid thus upon compulsion was not likely to be very agreeable;
but the complaints against the roads, the dreadful distance, and the
horrid necessity of being civil, need not be recorded. Miss Falconers
exclaimed when they at last came to the Hills, “La! I did not think it
was so tolerable a place!” Miss Georgiana hoped that they should,
at least, see Miss Caroline--she owned she was curious to see that
beautiful original, of whom the painter at Percy Hall, and her brother
Buckhurst, had said so much.
Mrs. Percy and Rosamond only were at home. Caroline had taken a walk
with her father to a considerable distance.
Mrs. Falconer, who had, by this time, completely recovered her
self-command, presented herself with such smiling grace, and expressed,
in such a tone of cordiality, her earnest desire, now that she had been
so happy as to get into the country, to enjoy the society of her friends
and relations, that Rosamond was quite charmed into a belief of at least
half of what she said. Rosamond was willing to attribute all that had
appeared, particularly of late, in contradiction of this lady’s present
professions, to some political motives of Commissioner Falconer, whom
she disliked for his conduct to Buckhurst, and whom she was completely
willing to give up as a worldly-minded courtier. But whilst the manners
of the mother operated thus with Rosamond in favour of her moral
character, even Rosamond’s easy faith and sanguine benevolence could not
see or hear any thing from the daughters that confirmed Mrs. Falconer’s
flattering speeches; they sat in languid silence, looking upon
the animate and inanimate objects in the room with the same air of
supercilious listlessness. They could not speak so as to be heard, they
could not really understand any thing that Rosamond said to them; they
seemed as if their bodies had been brought into the room by mistake, and
their souls left behind them: not that they were in the least timid or
abashed; no, they seemed fully satisfied with their own inanity, and
proud to show that they had absolutely no ideas in common with those
into whose company they had been thus unfortunately compelled. Once or
twice they turned their heads with some signs of vivacity, when the door
opened, and when they expected to see Miss Caroline Percy enter: but
though the visit was protracted, in hopes of her return, yet at last
they were obliged to depart without having their curiosity satisfied.
Mrs. Falconer’s fears of rivalship for her Georgiana were not diminished
by this visit. By those of the family whom she saw this day, she judged
of Caroline, whom she had not seen; and she had tact sufficient to
apprehend, that the conversation and manners of Mrs. Percy and
of Rosamond were such as might, perhaps, please a well-bred and
well-informed foreigner better, even, than the fashionable tone and
air of the day, of which he had not been long enough in England to
appreciate the conventional value. Still Mrs. Falconer had a lingering
hope that some difficulties about dress, or some happy cold, might
prevent these dangerous Percys from accepting the invitation to the
ball. When their answers to her card came, she gave one hasty glance at
it.
“Will do themselves the honour.”
“My dear, you are alarming yourself unnecessarily,” cried the
commissioner, who pitied the distress visible, at least to his eyes, in
her countenance; or who feared, perhaps, a renewal of reproaches for
his own want of address, “quite unnecessarily, believe me. I have had a
great deal of conversation with Count Altenberg since I spoke of him
to you last, and I am confirmed in my opinion that he merely feels the
curiosity natural to an enlightened traveller to become acquainted with
Mr. Percy, a man who has been described to him as a person of abilities.
And he wants to thank him in the name of his countrymen, who were
assisted, you know I told you, by the Percys, at the time of the
shipwreck. You will see, my dear, that the ladies of the family will be
nothing to him.”
Mrs. Falconer sighed, and bit her lips.
“In half an hour’s conversation, I would engage to find out the ruling
passion of any man, young or old. Now, remember I tell you, Mrs.
Falconer, Count Altenberg’s ruling passion is ambition.”
“Ruling passion!” repeated Mrs. Falconer; “one of your book-words,
and book-notions, that are always misleading you in practice. Ruling
passion!--Metaphysical nonsense! As if men were such consistent
creatures as to be ruled regularly by one passion--when often ten
different passions pull a man, even before your face, ten different
ways, and one cannot tell one hour what will be the ruling passion of
the next. Tell me the reigning fashion, and I will tell you the ruling
passion!--Luckily,” continued Mrs. Falconer, after a pause of deep
consideration, “Georgiana is very fashionable--one of the most
fashionable young women in England, as the count might have seen when he
was in London. But then, on the other hand, whether he is judge enough
of English manners--Georgiana must be well dressed--and I know
the Count’s taste in dress; I have made myself mistress of
that--commissioner, I must trouble you for some money.”
“Mrs. Falconer, I have no money; and if I had,” said the commissioner,
who always lost his temper when that subject was touched upon, “if I
had, I would not give it to you to throw away upon such a losing game--a
nonsensical speculation! Georgiana has not the least chance, nor has any
other English woman, were she as handsome as Venus and dressed in bank
notes--why, Mrs. Falconer, since you put me in a passion, I must tell
you a secret.”
But checking himself, Mr. Falconer stood for a moment silent, and went
on with “Count Altenberg has made up his quarrel with the hereditary
prince, and I have it from undoubted authority, that he is to be the
prince’s prime minister when he comes to the throne; and the present
prince, you know, as Cunningham says, is so infirm and asthmatic, that
he may be carried off at any moment.”
“Very well--very likely--I am glad of it,” said Mrs. Falconer: “but
where’s the secret?”
“I’ve thought better of that, and I cannot tell it to you. But this much
I tell you positively, Mrs. Falconer, that you will lose your labour, if
you speculate upon the Count for Georgiana.”
“Is he married? Answer me that question, and I will ask no more--and
that I have a right to ask.”
“No--not married; but I can tell no more. Only let me beg that you
will just put all love notions out of Georgiana’s head and your own, or
you’ll make the girl ridiculous, and expose yourself, my dear. But, on
the other hand, let there be no deficiency of attention to the count,
for all our civilities to him will pay a hundred fold, and, perhaps,
sooner than you expect--for he may be prime minister and prime favourite
at Cunningham’s court in a month, and of course will have it in his
power to forward Cunningham’s interests. That is what I look to, Mrs.
Falconer; for I am long-sighted in my views, as you will find.”
“Well, time will show. I am glad you tell me he positively is not
married,” concluded Mrs. Falconer: “as to the rest, we shall see.”