"What have you brought me, my dear, good Mr. Varga?" asked Fanny, with a smile. "If you
have brought nothing but yourself, I should be all the better pleased. Now you can see how pleased I am to see you."
Varga murmured something to the effect that he did not know what he had done to deserve so much favour, and hastened to hand her the document, at the same time delivering Squire John's message; then he prepared to take his leave. But Fanny anticipated him.
"Pray remain," said she. "I have a few questions to put to you."
This was a command, so he felt bound to sit down again. He had never felt so bad before any other examination. What could her ladyship have to ask him? He devoutly wished that some other person was sitting there in his stead.
Fanny took the list and ran her eye down it, and as she did so, her heart sank within her. There were so many strange names, and all she knew about them was that they were all the names of great and illustrious men in high positions, and unexceptionable women. She had not a single acquaintance among all these women, and had no idea which of them she would find attractive, or which of them she might have cause to fear. How was she to comport herself in the society of all these high and haughty dames? If she put on a bold and confident air, they would snub her; if she humbled herself before them, they would ridicule her. They would not credit her with any good qualities. Her very beauty would make them suspicious of her; a hidden meaning, a secret insinuation, would lurk behind all the friendly words they addressed to her. Woe to her if she did not realize this, and woe to her also if she realized it and did not keep her feelings to herself! Woe to her if she did not give back as good as she got, and woe to her if she did! Poor lady!
So she ran her eyes down the long list of names before her from end to end.
How she longed to find among them some good-natured, generous, tender-hearted woman whom she might look upon as a dear mother—not another Mrs. Meyer, but a dear ideal mother such as all good people imagine every mother to be! how she longed, too, to find among them many a gentle girl, many a young sympathetic damsel whom she might love like sisters—though not such sisters as hers! But how was she to recognize; how was she to approach them? how was she to win their hearts, their confidence?
Again and again she read through the list of names aloud, as if she would have discovered from the sound of the names the disposition of their bearers; then she laid it down before her with a sigh, and turned an inquiring look upon the steward.