Miss Turnbull and Mrs. Ingoldsby interchanged looks of affected contempt: but Mr. Wynne added, “Her grace has, you know, a taste for literature and for the arts; and the most celebrated literary characters, as well as those who have distinguished themselves in active life, assemble at her house, where they can enjoy the most agreeable conversation—that in which a knowledge of books and of the world is happily blended.”
“And as to being afraid of her grace,” resumed Mrs. Wynne, “that is quite impossible; she has such affable, engaging manners. I am sure, even I am not in the least afraid of her.”
“But you know,” said Miss Turnbull, with a malicious look of mock humility, “there is a difference between you and me.—I would not meet her grace for the world, for I am persuaded I should not be able to articulate a syllable in her classical presence—I have not been used to that style of company, by any means. I assure you I should be, as Mrs. Ingoldsby says, horribly afraid of your witty duchess.”
“She has none of the airs of a wit, believe me,” said Mrs. Wynne, growing more and more earnest; “and if you will not believe me, ask your friend Ellen.”
“Oh, excuse me, I beseech; I shall ask no questions—I only beg leave to keep myself well when I am well. The Elmours who are so clever, and have such merit and so on, are all vastly better suited to her grace than I am.”
No contradiction ensued—our heroine was mortified beyond the power of concealment.
After dinner, when the ladies retired, Mrs. Wynne, though somewhat alarmed and puzzled by Miss Turnbull’s behaviour, summoned all the resolution which benevolence could inspire, and resolved at once to come to the point with our heroine. She flattered herself that all in Miss Turnbull that appeared inauspicious to her hopes was only her manner, that sort of manner which people, who live much in high life, catch and practise, without meaning to give themselves airs, or to humble their neighbours.
Many persons will perhaps think good Mrs. Wynne almost an idiot: but she was a woman of abilities; and if she did not exert them in discovering with promptitude the follies of others, she enjoyed much happiness in her benevolent scepticism. This evening, however, she was doomed to be absolutely convinced, against her will, that she had formed too favourable an opinion of one of her fellow-creatures.
She was eager to explain herself to Almeria before Ellen and Mr. Frederick Elmour should arrive; she therefore took her aside, and began without any preface:—“My dear Miss Turnbull, here is a charming opportunity for you to do a kind, and generous, and grateful action. This poor Mrs. Henry Elmour!—She has told you how she has been reduced to distress without any imprudence of hers. Now you could not, I am sure, prove the goodness of your own heart better to your friends (who will be here in half an hour) than by showing kindness to this unfortunate widow. I cannot presume to say more than that I think she would make a most agreeable companion to an amiable, sensible young lady—and you have not decided your choice, have you?”
“Pardon me, I have decided, beyond a possibility of retracting,” replied Miss Turnbull, haughtily.