“Oh! My Lady Kilcroney, the least little post in all the world! Hath not the Queen appointed a plain Miss Burney reader? I believe I could very well be reader. Mr. Lafone says I have a silver tone in my voice, and our curate at home once told me——”
“Tush, the celebrated Miss Burney hath qualifications, child, which you in your foolishness fail to appreciate.”
“Yet she is but a music teacher’s daughter, Madam,” said Molly with a mighty sigh. She dropped her white eyelids and turned a green glint on my Lord, and sighed again. “Or if not actually about her Majesty—who am I, indeed, to aspire to that Presence?—some office about yourself, dear Lady Kilcroney. I would be your secretary, your Lady-in-waiting, your devoted attendant!”
“This is folly,” cried Kitty. “I am by no means appointed to my Lady Flo’s post, and if I were—well, to be frank with you, Lafone, since you like frankness so much—you are the last person in the world I should ever be instrumental in bringing to court. Heavens!” cried Kitty, gazing upwards at the low ceiling, as if she saw through it into the celestial regions. “What discretion, what faultless propriety of conduct, what a delicate sense of responsibility, what a blameless record should be demanded of one who would enter that sacred circle!...”
(It was the glint of her visitor’s green eye at my Lord which gave this stern decision to Kitty’s tones.)
Here, quite unexpectedly, and with admirable effectiveness, large tears rose in Mrs. Lafone’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks, without in the least disturbing the prettiness of her pointed visage. My Lord cast a glance from one to the other; it was lit with a tender sympathy as it fell on this touching impersonation of grief, and kindled with reproach as it shot to Kitty.
Mrs. Lafone gave a small sob.
“Your sweet lady,” she said, now audaciously addressing her male champion, “has ever been a friend in need. ’Tis for that, that I have ventured, my Lord, that I have ventured to come to her to-day, hearing—yes! I will own it, I already knew that she was like to be next in the Queen’s choice. I made the journey hither in the hopes—’tis for no reason of petty vanity, no mere envious ambition——” (Thus the minx) ... “oh! my Lord, I scarce know why, I have ever been sadly persecuted. I am the victim of evil tongues!... My reputation has been assailed....”
“Ha!” said Kitty. The ejaculation leaped from her.
Molly Lafone produced another silver sob. “Quite unfoundedly, I do assure you! My conscience is spotless, my Lady Kilcroney, spotless!”—she caught Kitty’s eye, and went on in a humble voice—“in this instance! Indeed, my Lady—but Mr. Lafone—I am sadly maligned, he is suspicious, he——” Here the unfortunate young woman became quite incoherent in her demonstrations of distress. She wrung her white hands with extra pathos. Another large tear flowed, and a volley of little sobbing, disjointed phrases accompanied it, “domestic happiness—ignorance of the world—poor little me, country-bred and guileless—salvation or despair!”