“When Ha-Ha-Haggerstone comes, and finds no room for him, you 'll ha-ha-have the devil to pay.”
“He shall take it out in dinners, Scroope; and what between drinking Dalton's wine with him, and abusing him behind his back, you 'll see he 'll be perfectly happy.”
“How long do you purpose to st-stay here, sister?” asked Scroope.
“Ask the butterfly how long the rose and the hyacinth will bloom,” said Mrs. Ricketts, pensively; for, by dint of smiling at herself in the looking-glass, she had come round to that mock poetical vein which ran through her strange incongruous nature. “And now good-night, dears,” sighed she. “These are sweet moments, but they are paid for at a price. Exhausted energies will have repose.” She held out her hand to Martha, who kissed it respectfully, and then waived a graceful adieu to Purvis, as he retired.
“Sister Zoe has a head for everything,” muttered Purvis to Martha. “There's nothing she's not up to.”
“She's very clever indeed!” sighed Martha.
“And this is n't the worst h-hit she has ever made. It was d-deucedly well done to get in here.”
Either Martha did n't concur in the sentiment, or Scroope's satisfaction did not need any backing, for she made no reply.
“They 've given me a capital room; I fa-fancy Dalton's own, for I found a heap of old bills and letters in a table-drawer, and something like a—like a——like a writ”—here he laughed till the tears came at the drollery of the thought,—“in the pocket of his dressing-gown.”
“Good-night,” said Martha, softly, as she glided into the little chamber allotted to her. Poor Martha! Save Nelly's, hers was the saddest heart beneath that roof. For the first time in all her long years of trial, a ray of doubt, a flash of infidelity had broken upon her mind, and the thought of her sister-in-law's infallibility became for a moment suspected. It was not that abused and outraged submission was goaded into rebellion; it was dormant reason that was suddenly startled into a passing wakefulness. It was like one of those fitful gleams of intelligence which now and then dart across the vacuity of dulled intellects, and, like such, it was only a meteor-flash, and left no trace of light behind it. Even in all its briefness the anguish it gave was intense; it was the delusion of a whole life rent asunder at once, and the same shock which should convulse the moral world of her thoughts would rob her of all the pleasantest fancies of her existence. If Zoe were not all goodness and all genius, what was to become of all the household gods of the Villino? Titians would moulder away into stained and smoked panels; “Sèvres” and “Saxe” would fall down to pasteboard and starch; carved oak and ebony would resolve themselves into leather; and even the friendship of princes and the devotion of philosophers be only a mockery, a sham, and a snare!