“My dear Ellen,” said she, in an irresolute tone, “my dearest creature, you must not distress yourself in this way—I must have you keep up your spirits. You confine yourself too much, indeed you do; and you see you are not equal to it. Your father will be better, and he will persuade you to leave him for an hour or two, I am sure, and we must have you amongst us; and I must introduce you to Lady Bradstone—she’s a charming woman, I assure you—you would like her of all things, if you knew her. Come—don’t let me see you in this way. Really, my dear Ellen, this is so unlike you—I can assure you that, whatever you may think, I love you as well as ever I did, and never shall forget my obligations to all your family; but, you know, a person who lives in the world, as I do, must make such terrible sacrifices of their time—one can’t do as one pleases—one’s an absolute slave. So you must forgive me, dear Ellen, for bidding you farewell for the present.”
Ellen hastily wiped away her tears, and turning to Almeria with an air of dignity, held out her hand to her, and said, “Farewell for ever, Almeria!—May you never feel the want of a sincere and affectionate friend!—May the triumphs of fashion make you amends for all you sacrifice to obtain them!”
Miss Turnbull was abashed and agitated—she hurried out of the room to conceal her confusion, stepped into a carriage with a coronet, drove away, and endeavoured to forget all that had passed. The concert in the evening recalled her usual train of ideas, and she persuaded herself that she had done all, and more than was necessary, in offering to introduce Ellen to Lady Bradstone. “How could she neglect such an offer?”
A few days after the concert, Almeria had the pleasure of being introduced to Lady Bradstone’s four daughters—Lady Gabriella, Lady Agnes, Lady Bab, and Lady Kitty. Of the existence of these young ladies Almeria had scarcely heard—they had been educated at a fashionable boarding-school; and their mother was now under the disagreeable necessity of bringing them home to live with her, because the eldest was past seventeen.
Lady Gabriella was a beauty, and determined to be a Grace—but which of the three Graces, she had not yet decided.
Lady Agnes was plain, and resolved to be a wit.
Lady Bab and Lady Kitty were charming hoydens, with all the modern simplicity of fourteen or fifteen in their manners. Lady Bab had a fine long neck, which was always in motion—Lady Kitty had white teeth, and was always laughing;—but it is impossible to characterize them, for they differed in nothing from a thousand other young ladies.
These four sisters agreed in but one point—in considering their mother as their common enemy. Taking it for granted that Miss Turnbull was her friend, she was looked upon by them as being naturally entitled to a share of their distrust and enmity. They found a variety of causes of complaint against our heroine; and if they had been at any loss, their respective waiting-maids would have furnished them with inexhaustible causes of quarrel.
Lady Bradstone could not bear to go with more than four in a coach.—“Why was Miss Turnbull always to have a front seat in the coach, and two of the young ladies to be always left at home on her account?”—“How could Lady Bradstone make such a favourite of a grazier’s daughter, and prefer her to her own children as a companion?” &c.
The young ladies never discouraged their attendants from saying all the ill-natured things that they could devise of Miss Turnbull, and they invented a variety of methods of tormenting her. Lady Gabriella found out that Almeria was horridly ugly and awkward; Lady Agnes quizzed her perpetually; and the Ladies Bab and Kitty played upon her innumerable practical jokes. She was astonished to find in high life a degree of vulgarity of which her country companions would have been ashamed: but all such things in high life go under the general term dashing. These young ladies were dashers. Alas! perhaps foreigners and future generations may not know the meaning of the term!