“Longs!—Lord, ma’am, she longs for fifty things in a minute!—Quick!—Yes, but don’t depend on her, I advise you; for she does not know, for two seconds together, what she would have or what she would do.”
“Then I have resource in one who, I am persuaded, will not disappoint me or any body else,” said Mrs. Falconer.
“Whom can you mean, ma’am?”
“Miss Caroline Percy. Count Altenberg put it into my head: he observed that she would look the character remarkably well—and I will write to her directly.”
Without power of articulating, Miss Georgiana Falconer fixed her eyes upon her mother for some moments.
“You think I have lost my senses this morning—I thought, and I am afraid so did many other people, that you had lost yours last night. Another such scene, your friends the Lady Arlingtons for spectators, you are ridiculous, and, of course, undone for life in the fashionable world—establishment, and every thing else that is desirable, irrevocably out of the question. I am surprised that a girl of your understanding and really polished manners, Georgiana, should, the moment any thing crosses or vexes you, show no more command of temper, grace, or dignity, than the veriest country girl. When things go wrong, do you see me lose all presence of mind; or rather, do you ever see me change a muscle of my countenance?”
“The muscles of some people’s countenance, ma’am, I suppose, are differently made from others—mine will change with my feelings, and there is no remedy, for my feelings unfortunately are uncommonly acute.”
“That is a misfortune, indeed, Georgiana; but not without remedy, I trust. If you will take my advice—”
“Were you ever in love, ma’am?”
“Properly—when every thing was settled for my marriage; but not improperly, or it might never have come to my wedding-day. Headstrong child! listen to me, or you will never see that day with Count Altenberg.”