“What need to say so?” sighed Lady Hester. “Does not every lock on every door, every scissors that will not cut, every tongs that will not hold, every parasol that turns upside down, every carriage that jolts, and every shoe that pinches you, proclaim its nationality?”
“Dr. Grounsell says, my Lady, that all the fault lies in the wealthier classes, who prefer everything to native industry.”
“Dr. Grounsell's a fool, Lisa. Nothing shall ever persuade me that Valenciennes and Brussels are not preferable to that ornament for fireplaces and fauteuils called Limerick lace, and Genoa velvet a more becoming wear than the O'Connell frieze. But have done with this discussion; you have already put me out of temper by the mention of that odious man's name.”
“I at least saved your Ladyship from seeing him this morning.”
“How so? Has he been here?”
“Twice already, my Lady; and threatens another visit He says that he has something very important to communicate, and his pockets were stuffed with papers.”
“Oh, dear me! how I dread him and his parchments! Those terrible details by which people discover how little is bequeathed to them, and how securely it is tied up against every possibility of enjoying it. I 'd rather be a negro slave on a coffee plantation than a widow with what is called a 'high-principled trustee' over my fortune.”
“There he comes again, my Lady; see how fast he is galloping up the avenue.”
“Why will that pony never stumble? Amiable and worthy folk break their necks every day of the week,—fathers of families and unbeneficed clergymen. Assurance companies should certainly deal lightly with crusty old bachelors and disagreeable people, for they bear charmed lives.”
“Am I to admit him, my Lady?” asked the maid, moving towards the door.