“I suppose he has three thousand a year?” inquired Mrs Clarissa.
“Guineas—very like. Not brains—trust me!” said Mrs Jane.
“And an estate?” pursued Mrs Clarissa, with languid interest.
“Oh dear, yes!” chimed in the invalid; “I would have told you about it, if Jane could ever hold her tongue. Such a—”
“I’ve done,” observed Mrs Jane, marching off.
“Oh, my dear Clarissa, you can have no conception of what I suffer!” resumed Mrs Marcella, sinking down to a confidential tone. “I love quiet above all things, and Jane’s tongue is never still. Ah! if I could go to the wedding, as I used to do! I was at all the grand weddings in the county when I was a young maid. I couldn’t tell you how many times I was bridesmaid. When Sir Samuel was married—and really, after all the fine things he had said, and the way he used to ogle me through his glass, I did think!—but, however, that’s neither here nor there. The creature he married had plenty of money, but absolutely no complexion, and she painted—oh, how she did paint! and a turn-up nose,—the ugliest thing you ever saw. And with all that, the airs she used to give herself! It really was disgusting.”
“O, my dear! I can’t bear people that give themselves airs,” observed Mrs Clarissa, with a toss of her head, and “grounding” her fan.
“No, nor I,” echoed Mrs Marcella, quite as unconscious as her friend of the covert satire in her words. “I wonder what Mrs Rhoda will be married in. I always used to say I would be married in white and silver. And really, if my wretched health had not stood in the way, I might have been, my dear, ever so many times. I am sure it would have come to something, that evening when Lord James and I were sitting in the balcony, after I had been singing,—and there, that stupid Jane must needs come in the way! I always liked a pretty wedding. I should think it would be white and silver. And what do you suppose Madam will give her?”
“Oh, a set of pearls, I should say, if not diamonds,” answered Mrs Clarissa.
“She will do something handsome, of course.”