“She could scarce have insulted my papa’s memory worse than by such a choice, made in such haste.”
“Indeed, my dear, there was no haste, I’ll assure you. The full year and a day—not a moment less—did Mrs Freyne wear her weeds to the admiration of the whole town, and ’twas in the evening of the 21st of last month she was married. Perhaps you would not say that this proved her a model of inconsolable constancy, but indeed she was thought to be extraordinary strict. Why, Mrs Campbell, who married Mr Hastings just before the hot weather began, only lost her Captain at the taking of Buzbudgia in January. She, I grant you, wasted no time. But I vow there’s no need for you to regret Mrs Freyne’s action, for you’ll have the less to do with her. I thought I had best warn you of the affair, as you’re about to meet her to-night.”
“Sure my Charlotte will never ask me to do anything so repugnant to my sentiments.”
“Your Charlotte does ask it of you. To tell truth, my dear, I have played a little trick on Mrs Bentinck. Shortly after her marriage she came with the solemnest face in the world to ask me whether I had not resigned all hope of seeing you again, since a year was past without any news of you. I had just received the news of your wedding, and made no scruple of assuring the lady that I was persuaded my Sylvia Freyne was no more, when she departed comforted, and is now wearing mourning for you. You perceive my plot?”
“Oh, my dear, don’t attempt anything dreadful. I have no desire to alarm the lady into fits, or perhaps madness.”
“There’s no fear of that, child. ’Tis your papa’s property Mrs Bentinck was concerned for, and that she can’t hope to keep now you’re returned. Sure you can’t desire me to break the news to her gently? Is it to be announced as joyful or melancholy? If she learn it on a sudden, she can decide for herself. And now come to dress.”
In Mrs Hurstwood’s hands I feel myself a child, and when she desired me to wear one of her gowns, which she had had a tailor alter during the day to fit me, I obeyed her with all the meekness imaginable. I can’t tell you how strange it appeared to me to put on a dress of ceremony once more, and I thought I had never seen anything so charming as the white satin petticoat and gown of white gauze sprigged with gold that my Charlotte had chose for me. When I was dressed, she came into the room with her hands full of crimson flowers.
“You look well enough, child,” she said, “but you han’t sufficient colour left to carry off a dress all of white. Besides, you was married more than a month ago, and we can’t have you look too like a bride. So sit down, and let me adorn you.”
I sat down as she bade me, and she fastened her red blossoms in my hair and in the bosom of my gown, then turned me round and told me in her impudent style that she thought I might pass tolerably for a boarding-school Miss just arrived from Europe if I would but keep that Fraser of mine from following me about everywhere. Having succeeded in making me angry, she informed me that I should find my adored spouse in the saloon, as indeed I did, with his wounded limb laid on a couch. It seemed to me that there was a slight gloom on his countenance, but he drove it away when I joined him, and we were talking over the events of the day when Mrs Hurstwood entered the apartment, bringing with her my stepmother and Captain Bentinck.
“This is the dear friend I desired to present to you, madam,” said my Charlotte, with an air of extraordinary sweetness. For the instant I feared Mrs Bentinck’s falling into a fit as she regarded me with consternation, but she recovered her coolness by a prodigious effort.