“What is it, Jessie?” said Emilie, whose electrical sympathy was instantly roused, “any thing more from those abominable Tylers? Pray let me see?” Mrs. Tower looked over Emilie’s shoulder as she read. “What insolence! Jessie Lincoln, if I were only a man, I am sure I should avenge your insult in single combat! Why, brother, are you a man, and will you see a lady treated like that?” she continued with thrilling emphasis, throwing the note disdainfully out of her hands.
“Yes, sister, I hope I am a man,” replied the young naval officer, “but not quite so hot-headed and reckless a man as you would have made. If you were on board our vessel, I fear we might have our hands full to keep you out of ‘affairs of honor!’ Miss Lincoln, I presume,” he continued, laying down the note, while a flush slowly crept to his forehead, “has wisdom enough to manage with the contempt it deserves, so very contemptible an assault!”
“I will reply to it, Jessie,” said Mrs. Tower, as she sat down before her writing-table and wrote:—
“Mrs. Tower takes the liberty to decline for Miss Lincoln, the proposition Miss Tyler has seen fit to make, as the change in Miss Lincoln’s circumstances and prospects renders any further intercourse with Miss Tyler unbefitting entirely. That intercourse is therefore at an end.”
Jessie begged that any thing so like retaliation, might not be sent, as Miss Tyler was unquestionably instigated by the Varleys, who were too cowardly to assail her only through a tool.
“It becomes me, Jessie, to vindicate the honor of my family, and I feel justified in checking such effrontery, and foiling it with its own weapons,” insisted Mrs. Tower.
“Yes, yes indeed!” said Emilie. “I’m glad of it, Mrs. Tower, and I only wish I had the inditing of the reply. It would scorch like a flame, I’m sure it would, every word of it. Do, please charge me with the delivery of the missive, Mrs. Tower! my fingers ache for the commission, and I’ll add an oral appendix on my own hook!”
“O, no, Emilie,” replied Mrs. Tower, smiling; “I appreciate your generous intention, but I fear your enthusiasm and indignation might spoil your embassy.”
Meantime the whole Varley family were indulging in boisterous exultation over Elizabeth’s “capital trick, to show a mantuamaker girl that she was out of her reckoning when she sailed into their latitude—she did not belong with them, no how you could fix it;” for it must be humiliating, indeed, to be ordered to such paltry service after deceiving such wealthy and important people into showing her some distinguished civilities. Charlotte said she “guessed it would convince Mr. Style that there was something to choose between an heiress and a servant!” Mrs. Tyler simpered from behind her porcelain, that “it would learn people to know their places—and one might lose some custom by such a fraud on society—the matter would not stop in a corner!” Annette declared it was “too good.” Mrs. Varley echoed, as usual, the respective opinions, as they came from the mint, and Adelaide gleefully suggested that it “might taste a little bitter to Mrs. Tower’s palate, as she made such a prodigious favorite of the girl. For her part, she expected Mrs. Tower would import a colony of chimney-sweeps, to give brilliancy to society there, she was so much the patron of the ‘lower classes!’ ”
But the reply came far sooner than it was looked for, and exultation speedily changed hands with consternation. What could it mean? “Change in her circumstances and prospects!” What possible interpretation could be applied to that? Charlotte fell into hysterics, and screamed she “knew it could mean nothing less than that Jessie Lincoln was engaged to Mr. Style!” and to complete the excitement, she actually fainted away.