“Isabel will find out my vices soon enough, without your enlightening her beforehand,” I protested. “It's not fair to take away a man's character without giving him a chance of redeeming it.”
“Then begin and redeem it in time,” said my step-mother. “Here is a good opportunity. Have some people down from London to put the house in order, and then give a series of proper entertainments to introduce your wife to her new family and friends.”
“Oh! please ...” cried Isabel, pursing up her rosebud of a mouth, and joining her hands with a delicious little pantomime of fright.
“What! are you as silly as himself? Or has he spoilt you already?”
“I was ready spoilt for him, dear Mrs. de Winton. I hate being introduced; and as to refurnishing anything, I wouldn't have it for the [pg 609] world. I adore old furniture!” declared Isabel.
“Old furniture is one thing, and shabby furniture is another,” observed my step-mother, resuming the chronic rigidity of manner which Isabel's beauty and sweetness had thawed for a moment. “If Clide had done me the honor of confiding his intentions to me in time, I certainly would have taken upon myself to make the house decently clean to receive you. I had for some time past urged on him the necessity of getting new carpets and curtains; it was not surprising he shrank from the annoyance of a few days' hammering merely to make it habitable for me, but I fancied for his wife he might have undergone as much.”
“I shall be delighted to hear the hammers going for a month, if Isabel likes it,” I replied evasively.
“But I don't like it; I hate it, Clide!” exclaimed my wife passionately.
“Well, then, you sha'n't have it, my darling,” I said. My step-mother sat back in her chair and washed her hands. She said nothing, but this was sufficiently suggestive.
“Have you announced your marriage to Sir Simon Harness?” she resumed after a pause.