"Oh yes, you will, mamma: you must live to dance at my wedding."
"I detest the sound!" she exclaimed—"your wedding! You have refused the first match in the two counties, and you will be disgraced and dishonoured among the wise, while I am pitied and despised by all my friends! Send Thompson to me."
Her ladyship became hysterical, and Julia became serious.
"I tell you, mamma, you will live to dance at my wedding, if you could only keep off those hysterics. Would you have me accept two men at once? How can I take poor Tom Pynsent when I am engaged to another!"
"Engaged to another, without asking my advice! Send instantly for Thompson: I am very ill." Her ladyship rang the bell violently. "You have killed me, and disgraced my reputation, Julia,—you have trifled with my kindness and affection—you have killed your mother!"
The servant appeared, and Julia summoned the redoubted Thompson, who hurried to the scene of action. She beheld her lady in her usual state of agitation, when any thing disagreeable occurred. Julia was seated calmly by her side.
Thompson applied her usual remedies, and entreated to hear what had distressed her lady's nerves. Every family affair was confided to the lady's-maid.
"Your mistress, Thompson, is discomposed at the idea of my engagement to Lord Ennismore," replied Julia. "You know mamma has fits now, upon every fresh occurrence."
Julia's words fell upon her mother's heart like the
"Sweet south upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odour."