“But, my dear madam, you prefer her being comfortably settled, I suppose,” said the financial counsellor. And, indeed, he expressed the opinions of all Mrs. Eastwood’s advisers. Mrs. Everard was still more decided and emphatic. “I should speak to him, and ask him what he means,” she said; “I should not put up with any shilly-shally. Nelly’s happiness ought to be a great deal more to you than any nonsensical scruples of delicacy. I should ask him what he means.”
“I do not hold Nelly so cheap,” cried Mrs. Eastwood, with a little flush of anger. “I think the best man in the world is not too good for Nelly. And he ought to ask her from me, not compel me to thrust her upon him. No, not if he was the only man in the world!”
“For my part I should not be so scrupulous,” said Mrs. Everard; “I would not stand on my dignity when my child’s happiness was involved. If Nelly likes him she should have him—or I would know the reason why!”
“One can only act according to one’s nature,” said Mrs. Eastwood, less amenable than usual to her friend’s persuasions. But the fact that everybody did remark and wonder made her doubly angry with herself and every one. Ought she to have offered sacrifices on her own part to secure, as was the phrase, her child’s happiness? Ought she to have taken the initiative without thus waiting, with a sense of proud repugnance, for the “other side”? Was she risking Nelly’s happiness? These questions Mrs. Eastwood asked herself with a troubled heart. Nelly meanwhile went on tranquilly with her usual life, and made no sign. Sometimes she would redden, sometimes grow pale, when Ernest came as usual. He came always, but not so regularly as of old, and it seemed to Mrs. Eastwood that Nelly’s expectations of his coming were not always pleasant. She was as quick to recognize his ring at the door, and to know his step, as ever, but no flush of joy came upon her face when she heard them. Quite as often a line of embarrassment, of anxiety, of incipient pain appeared on her forehead. The long engagement, was it?—or something else? Certainly, as day by day went on, Nelly grew more and more like one who drags a lengthening chain.
Jane, the housemaid, the most insignificant member of the household, became also at this time an embarrassment and trouble. With a strong desire to keep everything quiet, and hope that it might be accomplished, Mrs. Eastwood had recommended Nelly to make experiment of her powers as lady’s maid; and Nelly, half reluctant, had consented. “I hear you want to try another kind of situation,” Nelly said to her. “Come and help me while I dress, and then I shall be able to tell mamma what you can do.”
“It ain’t that I want another sort of situation—I want to be maid to my lady,” said Jane.
“Well, it would be much finer, of course, than being maid to me,” said Nelly, laughing; “but you had better try your skill on me first. If we come to grief, it will not be of so much consequence.” This she said merrily, being less impressed than her mother was, and much less than the young woman herself was, with Jane’s harm-doing powers.
“That ain’t my meaning, miss,” said Jane, very solemnly; “I mightn’t know enough for you, but I knows plenty for my lady. It’s a different thing. My friends all tell me as it’s my own fault if my fortune’s not made. I knows enough for my Lady Longueville—ay, and more than enough, if all was said.”
“It seems to me you are rather impertinent,” said Nelly, reddening. “I don’t know what you mean by it. I will take you on trial if you like, because mamma wishes it; but Lady Longueville, you may be sure, will not have you, unless you give proof of your knowledge more satisfactory than words.”
“Oh, there’s sometimes a deal of use in words, miss,” said Jane, oracularly. Nelly went down-stairs fuming to her mother, demanding that she should be sent away.