‘I don’t understand why you should be so much set against her, ma’am; if you only saw Miss Raeburn you would be surprised.’
‘I have no doubt that I should!’ exclaimed his mother in a sarcastic voice; ‘indeed, I have no doubt that I should!’
Like violin playing, sarcasm is a thing which must be either masterly or deplorable, but she was one of the many from whom this truth is hidden.
‘It would be a good thing if my sisters had one half of her looks or manners,’ retorted he, goaded by her tone. ‘Beside her, Agneta and Mary would look like dairy-maids.’
‘Am I to sit here and hear my own daughters abused and vilified?’ exclaimed Lady Fordyce, rising and walking about. ‘You have indeed profited by your stay among those people! I hope you are satisfied. I hope you have done enough to pain me. I hope you will never live to repent the way in which you have insulted me.’
‘My dear mother, pray, pray be calmer. What am I doing that you should be in this state?’
‘You have called your sisters dairy-maids—servants! You are throwing yourself away upon this worthless creature who has been trying all the time to entrap you.’
‘How can you say such a thing, ma’am, when I tell you that she has refused me? Not that I mean to accept it.’
‘Refused you, indeed! I tell you I do not believe it; she merely wants to draw you on. I ask you, is it likely that a girl who has not a penny in the world would refuse such prospects? Pshaw!’ cried Lady Fordyce, with all the cheap sense of one who knows nothing of the varieties of human character.
‘I wish you could see her,’ sighed her son.