Under the veil of politeness, Mrs. Harcourt concealed her real feelings, and declaring to Mad. de Rosier that she did not feel in spirits, or sufficiently well, to go out that evening, she requested that Mad. de Rosier would go, in her stead, to a dinner, where she knew her company would be particularly acceptable.—“You will trust me, will you, with your pupils for one evening?” added Mrs. Harcourt.
The tone and manner in which she pronounced these words revealed the real state of her mind to Mad. de Rosier, who immediately complied with her wishes.
Conscious of this lady’s quick penetration, Mrs. Harcourt was abashed by this ready compliance, and she blamed herself for feelings which she could not suppress.
“I am sorry that you were not at home this morning,” she continued, in a hurried manner—“you would have been delighted with Dr. X——; he is one of the most entertaining men I am acquainted with—and you would have been vastly proud of your pupil there,” pointing to Isabella; “I assure you, she pleased me extremely.”
In the evening, after Mad. de Rosier’s departure, Mrs. Harcourt was not quite so happy as she had expected. They who have only seen children in picturesque situations, are not aware how much the duration of this domestic happiness depends upon those who have the care of them. People who, with the greatest abilities and the most anxious affection, are unexperienced in education, should not be surprised or mortified if their first attempts be not attended with success. Mrs. Harcourt thought that she was doing what was very useful in hearing Herbert read; he read with tolerable fluency, but he stopped at the end of almost every sentence to weigh the exact sense of the words. In this habit he had been indulged, or rather encouraged, by his preceptress; but his simple questions, and his desire to have every word precisely explained, were far from amusing to one who was little accustomed to the difficulties and misapprehensions of a young reader.
Herbert was reading a passage, which Mad. de Rosier had marked for him, in Xenophon’s Cyropaedia. With her explanations, it might have been intelligible to him. Herbert read the account of Cyrus’s judgment upon the two boys, who had quarrelled about their great and little coats, much to his mother’s satisfaction, because he had understood every word of it, except the word constituted.
“Constituted judge—what does that mean, mamma?”
“Made a judge, my dear: go on.”
“I saw a judge once, mamma, in a great wig—had Cyrus a wig, when he was con—const!—made a judge?”
Isabella and Mrs. Harcourt laughed at this question; and they endeavoured to explain the difference between a Persian and an English judge.