“Helena was showing me Westall’s drawing of Lady Anne Percival and her children—”
“And Mr. Hervey wished that he was the father of such a charming group of children, and you the mother—hey? was not that it? It was not put in such plain terms, but that was the purport, I presume?”
“No, not at all; he said nothing about Lady Anne Percival’s children, but—”
“But—why then did you bring in her ladyship and her children? To gain time?—Bad policy!—Never, whilst you live, when you have a story to tell, bring in a parcel of people who have nothing to do with the beginning, the middle, or the end of it. How could I suspect you of such false taste! I really imagined these children were essential to the business; but I beg pardon for giving you these elements of criticism. I assure you I interrupt you, and talk on so fast, from pure good-nature, to give you time to recollect yourself; for I know you’ve the worst of memories, especially for what Clarence Hervey says. But come, my dear, dash into the middle of things at once, in the true Epic style.”
“Then to dash into the midst of things at once,” said Miss Portman, speaking very quick: “Mr. Hervey observed that Miss Delacour was growing very fond of me.”
“Miss Delacour, did you say?” cried her ladyship: “Et puis?”
At this instant Champfort opened the door, looked in, and seeing Lady Delacour, immediately retired.
“Champfort, whom do you want—or what do you want?” said her ladyship.
“Miladi, c’est que—I did come from milord, to see if miladi and mademoiselle were visible. I did tink miladi was not at home.”
“You see I am at home, though,” said her ladyship. “Has Lord Delacour any business with me?”