“Yes, in love with you,” repeated my mother; “devotedly, distractedly in love with you. Why, my dear, what is there wonderful in it? Look in the glass, and look at these,” she continued, pointing, with a smile, to the jewels which I had just removed from my person, and which now lay in a glittering heap upon the table.
“May there not—” said I, hesitating between confusion and real alarm, “is it not possible that some mistake may be at the bottom of all this?”
“Mistake, dearest! none,” said my mother. “None; none in the world. Judge for yourself; read this, my love.” And she placed in my hand a letter, addressed to herself, the seal of which was broken. I read it through with no small surprise. After some very fine complimentary flourishes upon my beauty and perfections, as also upon the antiquity and high reputation of our family, it went on to make a formal proposal of marriage, to be communicated or not to me at present, as my mother should deem expedient; and the letter wound up by a request that the writer might be permitted, upon our return to Ashtown House, which was soon to take place, as the spring was now tolerably advanced, to visit us for a few days, in case his suit was approved.
“Well, well, my dear,” said my mother, impatiently; “do you know who Lord Glenfallen is?”
“I do, madam,” said I, rather timidly; for I dreaded an altercation with my mother.
“Well, dear, and what frightens you?” continued she. “Are you afraid of a title? What has he done to alarm you? He is neither old nor ugly.”
I was silent, though I might have said, “He is neither young nor handsome.”
“My dear Fanny,” continued my mother, “in sober seriousness, you have been most fortunate in engaging the affections of a nobleman such as Lord Glenfallen, young and wealthy, with first-rate—yes, acknowledged first-rate abilities, and of a family whose influence is not exceeded by that of any in Ireland. Of course, you see the offer in the same light that I do—indeed, I think you must.”
This was uttered in no very dubious tone. I was so much astonished by the suddenness of the whole communication, that I literally did not know what to say.
“You are not in love?” said my mother, turning sharply, and fixing her dark eyes upon me with severe scrutiny.