Louisa (laughing). With what an air Mrs. Landlady made her exit!
Mrs. Talbot. When I was young, they say, I was proud; but I am humble enough now: these petty mortifications do not vex me.
Louisa. It is well my brother was gone before Mrs. Landlady made her entree; for if he had heard her rude speech, he would at least have given her the retort courteous.
Mrs. Talb. Now tell me honestly, my Louisa—You were, a few days ago, at Bursal House. Since you have left it and have felt something of the difference that is made in this world between splendour and no splendour, you have never regretted that you did not stay there, and that you did not bear more patiently with Miss Bursal’s little airs?
Louisa. Never for a moment. At first Miss Bursal paid me a vast deal of attention; but, for what reason I know not, she suddenly changed her manner, grew first strangely cold, then condescendingly familiar, and at last downright rude. I could not guess the cause of these variations.
Mrs. Talb. (aside) I guess the cause too well.
Louisa. But as I perceived the lady was out of tune, I was in haste to leave her. I should make a very bad, and, I am sure, a miserable toad eater. I had much rather, if I were obliged to choose, earn my own bread, than live as toad eater with anybody.
Mrs. Talb. Fine talking, dear Louisa!
Louisa. Don’t you believe me to be in earnest, mother! To be sure, you cannot know what I would do, unless I were put to the trial.
Mrs. Talb. Nor you either, my dear.