The Martins Of Cro' Martin Volume I Part 22

"And treated like her also, I conclude?" said Lady Dorothea, with a sneering smile.

"Madame la d.u.c.h.esse was ever most kind to me," said the girl, half proudly.

"Kind--yes, of course--kind, if you conducted yourself properly and to her satisfaction. A person of her condition would be kind; but I trust this did not proceed so far as to spoil you? I hope it never made you forget your station?"

"I trust it did not, my Lady."

"With what part of the establishment did you live? Where did you dine?"

"With the Princess, my Lady; except on _fete_ days, when we were invited to the table of the d.u.c.h.ess."

"I never heard of anything more absurd,--outrageously absurd. Why, are you aware, young woman, that these same friends of yours have done you irreparable mischief? They have, so to say, ruined your entire future; for how can I, and others in my station, avail myself of your services, with such habits and expectations as these?"

"Certainly not expectations, my Lady. I never did or can expect such condescension from another."

"No matter; your head is filled with ideas unbefitting your condition, usages, habits, a.s.sociations, all foreign to a menial station. You have been admitted to privileges the want of which would be felt as hards.h.i.+ps. In fact, as I said before, they have done you irreparable injury. You must feel it yourself."

A very faint smile, half in deprecation of the appeal, was the only reply of the young girl.

"You are certain to feel it later on in life, if you are not sensible of it at present, that I can vouch for, young woman," said Lady Dorothea, with all the firmness with which she could utter an unpleasant speech.

"Nothing but unhappiness ever resulted from such ill-judged indulgence.

Indeed, if your mother had mentioned the circ.u.mstances, I scarcely think I should have sent for you"--she paused to see if any strong signs of contrite sorrow displayed themselves in the young girl's features; none such were there, and Lady Dorothea more sternly added,--"I may safely say, I never should have asked to see you."

When a speech meant to be severe has failed to inflict the pain it was intended to produce, it invariably recoils with redoubled power upon him who uttered it; and so Lady Dorothea now felt all the pang of her own ungenerous sentiment. With an effort to shake off this unpleasant sensation, she resumed,--

"I might go further, and observe that unless you yourself became thoroughly penetrated with the fact, you must always prove very unsuitable to the station you are destined to occupy in life. Do you understand me?"

"I believe I do, my Lady," was the calm reply.

"And also," resumed she, still more dictatorially--"and also, that acquiring this knowledge by yourself will be less painful to your feelings than if impressed upon you by others. Do you fully apprehend me?"

"I think so, my Lady."

Now, although the tone and manner of the young girl were unexceptionable in all that regards deference and respect, Lady Dorothea was not a little provoked at her unbroken composure. There was no confusion, not even a semblance of constraint about her. She replied to even sarcastic questions without the faintest shadow of irritation, and exhibited throughout the most perfect quietude and good breeding. Had the "young person" been overwhelmed with shame, or betrayed into any access of temper, her Ladys.h.i.+p's manner would have presented a pattern of haughty dignity and gracefulness, and her rebukes would have been delivered in a tone of queen-like superiority; but Miss Henderson afforded no opportunity for these great qualities. She was deference itself; but deference so self-possessed, so a.s.sured of its own safeguard, as to be positively provoking.

"Under all these circ.u.mstances, therefore," resumed Lady Dorothea, as if having revolved mighty thoughts within her mind, "it appears to me you would not suit me."

But even this speech failed to call up one trait of disappointment, and the young girl received it with only a deep courtesy.

"I'm sorry for it," continued my Lady, "on your mother's account; your education has of course cost her and your father many sacrifices, which your duty requires you to repay." She paused, as if asking for some a.s.sent to this speech.

Another deep courtesy was the reply.

"There, that will do," said Lady Dorothea, angrily; for any attempt to provoke seemed an utter failure. "I think I have nothing more to say. When I shall see your mother I can explain more fully to her.

Good-morning."

"I wish your Ladys.h.i.+p good-morning," said the girl, with a deep obeisance, and in a voice of perfect deference, while she retired towards the door. Before she had reached it, however, Lady Dorothea again addressed her.

"You forgot, I think, to tell me why you left the d.u.c.h.esse de Luygnes?"

"I left on the marriage of the Princess, my Lady."

"Oh, I remember; she married a Russian, I think."

"No, my Lady; she married the Duc de Mirecourt, French Amba.s.sador at St.

Petersburg."

"Ah, to be sure. I knew there was something Russian about it. And so they sent you away then?"

"The d.u.c.h.ess most kindly invited me to accompany her, my Lady, but my father desired I should return to Ireland."

"And very properly," said Lady Dorothea; "he took a most just view of the case; your position would only have exposed you to great perils. I'm sure you are not of my opinion, for distrust of yourself does not appear one of your failings."--It is possible that this ungenerous remark was evoked by a very slight curl of the young girl's lip, and which, faint as it was, did not escape her Ladys.h.i.+p's keen glances.--"Good-morning."

Again had Miss Henderson gained the door; her hand was already on the lock, when her Ladys.h.i.+p called out: "In the event of anything occurring to me likely to suit you, I ought to know what you can teach; and mind, don't bore me with a mere catalogue of hard names, but say what you really know."

"Some modern languages, my Lady, with music."

"No Greek or Latin?" said Lady Dorothea, half sneer-ingly.

"Latin, perhaps; but though I can read some Greek, I could not venture to teach it."

"Nor Hebrew?"

"No, my Lady."

"And the modern tongues,--which of them do you profess to know?"

"French, Italian, Spanish, and German."

"And don't you draw?--they showed me what they called yours."

"Yes, my Lady, but I cannot teach drawing."

"And of course you are thoroughly versed in history. Have you studied any scientific subjects?--mathematics, for instance."

"Only a few of the French initial books, my Lady."

"Why, you are quite an Admirable Crichton for acquirement. I feel really abashed to find myself in such company." But even this coa.r.s.e speech failed to irritate, and Lady Dorothea walked angrily towards the window and looked out.

It so chanced that, through an opening of the wood, she caught sight of a large a.s.semblage of workpeople, who, headed by Miss Martin on horseback, were on their way to the quarries; and as she looked, a sudden thought flashed across her: "Why not retain the 'young person' as a companion for her niece? How admirably would all this girl's knowledge contrast with Mary's ignorance! What an unceasing source of disparagement would their contact afford, at the very moment that the arrangement might seem dictated by the very best and highest of motives."

It may doubtless appear to many, that the individual who could reason thus must be animated by a most corrupt and depraved nature, but unhappily the spiteful element in the human heart is one which never measures its modes of attack, but suffers itself to be led on, from acts of mere petty malice to actions of downright baseness and badness. Lady Dorothea was not devoid of good traits, but once involved in a pursuit, she totally forgot the object which originally suggested it, but engaged all her zeal and all her ardor for success. She would have been shocked at the bare possibility of actually injuring her niece; she would have resented with indignation the mere mention of such; but yet she would have eagerly grasped at whatever afforded a chance of dominating over her. Mary's influence in the household--her rule over the peasantry of the estate--was a perpetual source of annoyance to her Ladys.h.i.+p, and yet she never knew how to thwart it, till now that chance seemed to offer this means.

"You need not go back just yet: I 'll speak to Mr. Martin about you,"

said she, turning towards Miss Henderson; and, with a respectful courtesy, the girl withdrew, leaving her Ladys.h.i.+p to her own somewhat complicated reflections.

In less than half an hour after Lady Dorothea proceeded to Mr. Martin's study, where a cabinet council was held, the substance of which our reader can readily conceive; nor need he have any doubts as to the decision, when we say that Lady Dorothea retired to her own room with a look of satisfaction so palpably displayed that Mademoiselle Hortense, her maid, remarked to herself, "Somebody or other was sure to pa.s.s a _mauvais quart d'heure_ when _miladi_ goes to her room with an air of such triumphant meaning as that."