Nell. She is on the road to-day, like John Gilpin’s hat and wig. She was to leave Puddingham this morning, and rest to-night at the Jolly Bridecake at Mouseton. I hope the coach is provided with oar and rudders, for she will certainly have to swim for it!...
In the midst of this talk an artist’s gig is smashed outside the front gate; and the artist, Mr. Scull, being much shaken, is actually admitted within the walls of the old Hall, to the great disquiet of Mr. Cramp, who is determined that, come what may, the young man shall not remain through the night. It is a pelting day, and no other conveyance seems likely to pass; while the artist is plainly unable to walk the distance which separates Grimhaggard Hall from the next town. While this matter is still under discussion, a ring at the front-door bell is heard, and ‘a woman of very singular appearance’ is seen ‘standing in the rain, without an umbrella, as if water were her native element.’
Nell. Who can it be? [Runs to the window.] Why, how tall she is! she looks as though she had grown a foot since that dress was made for her. What an extraordinary figure! Why, Sarah is actually letting her in. Papa, we have not had so many visitors since we came here. Grimhaggard Hall is growing quite gay.
Cramp. I will go and meet this strange guest. [Exit.]
Nell. It cannot be—it cannot be Miss Cob! Such a governess would kill me either with terror or with laughter.
Wrig. You were in expectation, Madam, of some one remarkable for eccentricity. We must not always judge of the qualities of the mind by the singularity of the exterior.
Enter Mr. Cramp and Miss Cob.
Cramp. Miss Cob,—my daughter. [Nelly makes a curtsey, Miss Cob a bow.]
Nell. [Aside to Wriggle.] I shall never keep my countenance.
Wrig. [Aside.] That is to be regretted, for it is a very fair one.