e ever said a word
against Mrs. This or Miss That? Not she! Has she been otherwise than
civil? No, assuredly! My Lady Theo is polite to a beggar-woman, treats
her kitchenmaids like duchesses, and murmurs a compliment to the dentist
for his elegant manner of pulling her tooth out. She would black my
boots, or clean the grate, if I ordained it (always looking like a
duchess the while); but as soon as I say to her, "My dear creature, be
fond of this lady, or t'other!" all obedience ceases; she executes the
most refined curtseys; smiles and kisses even to order; but performs
that mysterious undefinable freemasonic signal, which passes between
women, by which each knows that the other hates her. So, with regard
to Fanny, we had met at her house, and at others. I remembered her
affectionately from old days, I fully credited poor Hal's violent
protests and tearful oaths, that, by George, it was our mother's
persecution which made him marry her. He couldn't stand by and see a
poor thing tortured as she was, without coming to her rescue; no,
by heavens, he couldn't! I say I believed all this; and had for my
sister-in-law a genuine compassion, as well as an early regard; and yet
I had no love to give her; and, in reply to Hal's passionate outbreaks
in praise of her beauty and worth, and eager queries to me whether I
did not think her a perfect paragon? I could only answer with faint
compliments or vague approval, feeling all the while that I was
disappointing my poor ardent fellow, and cursing inwardly that revolt
against flattery and falsehood into which I sometimes frantically rush.
Why should I not say, "Yes dear Hal, thy wife is a paragon; her singing
is delightful, her hair and shape are beautiful;" as I might have said
by a little common stretch of politeness? Why could I not cajole this
or that stupid neighbour or relative, as I have heard Theo do a thousand
times, finding all sorts of lively prattle to amuse them, whilst I sit
before them dumb and gloomy? I say it was a sin not to have more words
to say in praise of Fanny. We ought to have praised her, we ought to
have liked her. My Lady Warrington certainly ought to have liked her,
for she can play the hypocrite, and I cannot. And there was this young
creature--pretty, graceful, shaped like a nymph, with beautiful black
eyes--and we cared for them no more than for two gooseberries!
At Warrington my wife and I, when we pretended to compare notes,
elaborately complimented e