“From my bedchamber,” said Lady Littleton. “They have, unluckily, misunderstood my orders; and they have freshly painted every one in my house.”
“Then it is impossible that you should sleep here—I will not allow you—it will poison you—it will give you the palsy immediately—it is destruction—it is death. You must come home with me directly—I insist upon it—But, no,” said she, checking herself, with a look of sudden disappointment, “no, my dearest friend! I cannot invite you; for I have not a bed to offer you.”
“Yes, mine—you forget mine—dear Mrs. Somers,” cried Emilie; “you know I can sleep with mamma.”
“By no means, Mlle. de Coulanges; you cannot possibly imagine—”
“I only imagine the truth,” said Emilie, “that this arrangement would be infinitely more convenient to mamma; I know she likes to have me in the room with her. Pray, dear Mrs. Somers, let it be so.”
Mrs. Somers made many ceremonious speeches: but Lady Littleton seemed so well inclined to accept Emilie’s offered room, that she was obliged to yield. She was vexed to perceive that Emilie’s manners pleased Lady Littleton; and, after they returned home, the activity with which Emilie moved her books, her drawing-box, work, &c., furnished Mrs. Somers with fresh matter for displeasure. At night, when Lady Littleton went to take possession of her apartment, and when she observed how active and obliging Mlle. de Coulanges had been, Mrs. Somers shook her head, and replied, “All this is just a proof to me of what I asserted, Lady Littleton—and what I must irrevocably assert—that Mlle. de Coulanges has no soul. You are a new acquaintance, and I am an old friend. She exerts herself to please you; she does not care what I think or what I feel about the matter. Now this is just what I call having no soul.”
“My dear Mrs. Somers,” said Lady Littleton, “be reasonable; and you must perceive that Emilie’s eagerness to please me arises from her regard and gratitude to you: she has, I make no doubt, heard that I am your intimate friend, and your praises have disposed her to like me.—Is this a proof that she has no soul?”
“My dear Lady Littleton, we will not dispute about it—I see you are fascinated, as I was at first. Manner is a prodigious advantage—but I own I prefer solid English sincerity. Stay a little: as soon as Mlle. de Coulanges thinks herself secure of you, she will completely abandon me. I make no doubt that she will complain to you of my bad temper and ill usage; and I dare say that she will succeed in prejudicing you against me.”
“She will succeed only in prejudicing me against herself, if she attempt to injure you,” said Lady Littleton; “but, till I have some plain proof of it, I cannot believe that any person has such a base and ungrateful disposition.”
Mrs. Somers spent an hour and a quarter in explaining her causes of complaint against both mother and daughter; and she at last retired much dissatisfied, because her friend was not as angry as she was, but persisted in the resolution to see more before she decided. After passing a few days in the house with Mlle. de Coulanges, Lady Littleton frankly declared to Mrs. Somers that she thought her complaints of Emilie’s temper quite unreasonable, and that she was a most amiable and affectionate girl. Respect for Lady Littleton restrained Mrs. Somers from showing the full extent of her vexation; she contented herself with repeating, “Mlle. de Coulanges is certainly a very amiable young woman—I would by no means prejudice you against her—but when you know her as well as I do, you will find that she has no soul.”