CHAPTER XIII.
“The creature’s at her dirty work again.”—POPE.
Amongst the infinite petty points of cunning of which that great practical philosopher Bacon has in vain essayed to make out a list, he notes that, “Because it worketh better when any thing seemeth to be gotten from you by question than if you offer it of yourself: you may lay a bait for a question, by showing another visage and countenance than you are wont, to the end to give occasion to the party to ask what the matter is of the change.”
“What is the matter, my dearest Mrs. Beaumont? I never saw you look so sad before in all my life,” said Miss Hunter, meeting Mrs. Beaumont, who had walked out into the park on purpose to be so met, and in hopes of having the melancholy of her countenance thus observed. It was the more striking, and the more unseasonable, from its contrast with the gay scene in the park. The sound of music was heard, and the dancing had begun, and all was rural festivity: “What is the matter, my dearest Mrs. Beaumont?” repeated Miss Hunter; “at such a time as this to see you look so melancholy!”
“Ah! my love! such a sad change in affairs! But,” whispered Mrs. Beaumont, “I cannot explain myself before your companion.”
Mr. Lightbody was walking with Miss Hunter: but he was so complaisant, that he was easily despatched on some convenient errand; and then Mrs. Beaumont, with all her wonted delicacy of circumlocution, began to communicate her distress to her young friend.
“You know, my beloved Albina,” said she, “it has been my most ardent wish that your brother should be connected with my family by the nearest and dearest ties.”
“Yes; that is, married to Amelia,” said Miss Hunter. “And has any thing happened to prevent it?”