'That is being really very kind,' said Lady Westhaven. 'But since you are so tenderly disposed towards your own family, would it not be well if you were to enquire after my mother? You know, I suppose, how very ill she is; how much worse 'tis feared she may be?'
'Yes, I shall certainly call,' replied Lady Frances with the utmost sang froid, 'before I go home. But as to her illness, you are frightened at nothing: she has only her old complaints.'
'Her old complaints! And are not they enough? If I were in a situation to be useful to her; or even as it is, if Lord Westhaven would permit me, I should certainly think it my duty constantly to attend her.'
'Probably you might. And it is equally probable that it would be of no use if you did. She has Brackley, and all her own people about her; and no more could be done for her, even tho' you were to hazard your precious life, or if I, (who you know would not risk by it that of an heir to an Earldom) should sacrifice my ease and my friends to attend her.'
The unfeeling malignity of this speech was so extremely distressing to Lady Westhaven, that she could hardly command her tears.
Lord Westhaven saw her emotion, and said, 'Augusta, my love, your sister is too brilliant for you. You have not acquired that last polish of high life, which quite effaces all other feelings; nor will you, perhaps, ever arrive at it.'
'God forbid that I ever should!' cried Lady Westhaven, unable to conceal her indignation.
'Poor thing!' said Lady Frances, with the most unblushing assurance—'You have curious ideas of domestic felicity: and it's a thousand pities, that instead of being what you are, destiny had not made you the snug, notable wife of a country parson, with three or four hundred a year—You would have been pure and happy, to drive about in a one horse chaise, make custards, walk tame about the house, and bring the good man a baby every year: but really, you are now quite out of your element.' She then rang the bell for her carriage; which being soon ready, she gaily wished her sister good day, and the Chevalier handed her down stairs; where, as she descended, she said, loud enough to be heard, 'S'il y'a une chose au monde que je deteste plus qu'un notre, c'est la tristesse d'une societé comme cela.'[45] The Chevalier assented with his lips; but his heart and his wishes were fled towards Emmeline. He was, however, so engaged with her proud and insolent rival, that he no longer dared openly to avow his predilection for her: and Lady Frances seemed so sure of the strength of that attachment which was her disgrace, that she brought him on purpose where Emmeline was, to shew how little she apprehended his defection.
Lord Westhaven, after pausing a second, ran down stairs after them; and just as Bellozane was stepping into the chariot, took him by the arm, and begged to speak to him for two minutes.