A LIVELY BREAKFAST INCIDENT.
Monday, Aug. 14.—I come now to introduce to you a new acquaintance.
I did not get down to breakfast till it was almost over, as I was detained with the queen, and as everybody was obliged to make what haste they could, in order to insure a meal before a summons. I found Miss Planta, and the aide-de-camp, vice chamberlain, and equerry; Lady Harcourt had already breakfasted with them, but made off as soon as the queen was visible, to wait upon her majesty. Miss Vernons lay in bed from yesterday's fatigues.
The extreme silence and gravity of the aide-de-camp threw a reserve and constraint on all the party, and we were all nearly dumb, when a new lady suddenly rushed into the room. This was Mrs. Harcourt, the aide-de-camp's wife, who had been ill the preceding day, and therefore had not ventured to Oxford. She is a showy, handsome woman, extremely talkative, with quick parts, high spirits, and a rattling vein of humour.
Miss Planta, who had taken Lady Harcourt's place, in order to pour out the tea, instantly moved to another. Mrs. Harcourt hurried into that just vacated, without ceremony, calling out, “How monstrous late you all are!—though I need not talk, for I hate getting up early. I was so vastly ill yesterday I could not stir, but I am vastly well to-day, so I am going to Blenheim.”
This day had been previously dedicated to seeing Blenheim.
“To Blenheim?” repeated General Harcourt, in a low voice.
“Yes, sir, to Blenheim! So no grave faces, for my plan is fixed.”
He half articulated a fear of her being ill again, but she stopped him with “O, no matter, leave that to the Fates;—the queen has been so gracious as to say I may go, and therefore go I shall: so say nothing about it, for that's settled and unalterable.”