Mrs. Darwell seemed to Mr. Fairchild to be a very fine lady, and one who did not trouble herself about the concerns of the poor; but there was one in the room who heard every word which Mr. Fairchild said, and heard it attentively.
This was little Miss Darwell. She was seated on a sofa, with a piece of delicate work in her hand; she was dressed in the most costly manner, and she looked as fair and almost as quiet as a waxen doll.
Who can guess what was going on in her mind whilst she was listening to the history of the poor grandmother and her little ones?
Miss Darwell, in one way, was as much indulged as Mr. Burke's children, but of course she was not allowed to be rude and vulgar; therefore, if her manners were better than those of the little Burkes, it was only what might be expected; but, happily for her, she had been provided with a truly pious and otherwise a very excellent governess, a widow lady, of the name of Colvin; but Mrs. Colvin seldom appeared in the drawing-room.
Mr. Darwell was proud of his little girl; he thought her very pretty and very elegant, and he wanted to show her off before Mr. Fairchild, who he knew had some little girls of his own; so before Mr. Fairchild took leave, he called her to him, and said:
"Ellen, my dear, speak to this gentleman, and tell him that you should be glad to see his daughters, the Misses Fairchild; they are about your age, and, as I am told, are such ladies as would please you to be acquainted with."
The little lady rose immediately, and came forward; she gave her hand to Mr. Fairchild, and turning to her father:
"May I," she said, "ask the Misses Fairchild to come to my feast upon my birthday?"
"You may, my love," was the answer.
"Then I will write a note," she said; and Mr. Fairchild saw that the pretty waxen doll could sparkle and blush, and look as happy as his own children often did.