CHAPTER XXV.How different from the animated discussion at Lady Mandeville’s, was the loud laugh and boisterous tone of Lady Augusta Selwyn, whom Calantha found, on her return, at that very moment stepping from her carriage, and enquiring for her. “Ah, my dear sweet friend,” she cried, flying towards Calantha, and shaking her painfully by the hand, “this fortuitous concurrence of atoms, fills my soul with rapture. But I was resolved to see you. I have promised and vowed three things in your name; therefore, consider me as your sponsor, and indeed I am old enough to be such. In the first place, you must come to me to-night, for I have a little supper, and all my guests attend only in the hope of meeting you. You are the bribe I have held out—youare to stand me in lieu of a good house, good cook, agreeable husband, and pretty face,—in all of which I am most unfortunately deficient. Having confessed thus much, it would be barbarous, it would be inhuman you know to refuse me. Now for the second favour,” continued this energetic lady:—“come alone; for though I have a great respect for Mrs. and Miss Seymour, yet I never know what I am about when their very sensible eyes are fixed upon me.”—“Oh you need not fear, Sophia would not come if I wished it; and Mrs. Seymour”—“I have something else to suggest,” interrupted Lady Augusta:—“introduce me immediately to your husband: he is divine, I hear—perfectly divine!” “I cannot at this moment; but”—“By the bye, why were you not at the ball last night. I can tell you there were some who expected you there. Yes, I assure you, a pair of languid blue eyes watching for you—a fascinating new friend waitingto take you home to apetit souper très-bien assorti. I went myself. It was monstrously dull at the ball:—insupportable, I assure you; perfectly so. Mrs. Turner and her nine daughters! It is quite a public calamity, Mrs. Turner being so very prolific—the produce so frightful. Amongst other animals, when they commit such blunders, the brood is drowned; but we christians are suffered to grow up till the land is overrun.” “Heigho.” “What is the matter? You look sotristeto-day, not even my wit can enliven you.—Isn’t it well, love? or has its husband been plaguing it? Now I have it:—you have, perchance, been translating an Ode of Pindar. I was there myself this morning; and it gave me the vapours for ten minutes; but I am used to these things you know child, and you are a novice. By the bye, where is your cousin,le beau capitaine, le chef des brigands? I was quite frappè with his appearance.” “Youmay think it strange,” said Calantha, “but I have not seen him these eight years—not since he was quite a child.” “Oh, what an interview there will be then,” said Lady Augusta: “he is a perfect ruffian.”“Are you aware that we have three sets of men now much in request?—There are these ruffians, who affect to be desperate, who game, who drink, who fight, who will captivate you, I am sure of it. They are always just going to be destroyed, or rather talk as if they were; and every thing they do, they must do it to desperation. Then come the exquisites. Lord Dallas is one, a sort of refinedpetit maître, quite thorough bred, though full of conceit. As to the third set, your useful men, who know how to read and write, in which class critics, reviewers, politicians and poets stand, you may always know them by their slovenly appearance. But you are freezing,mon enfant. What can be the matter? Iwill release you in a moment from my visitation. I have ten thousand things to say.—Will you come to my opera box Tuesday? Are you going to the masked ball Thursday? Has Mrs. Churchill sent for you to herdéjeûné paré. I know she wishes, more than I can express, to have you. Perhaps you will let me drive you there. My ponies are beautiful arabians: have you seen them? Oh, by the bye, why were you not at your aunt Lady Margaret’s concert? I believe it was a concert:—there was a melancholy noise in one of the rooms; but I did not attend to it.—Do you like music?”—“I do; but I must own I am not one who profess to be all enchantment at the scraping of a fiddle, because some old philharmonic plays on it; nor can I admire the gurgling and groaning of a number of foreigners, because it is called singing.”“They tell me you think of nothing but love and poetry. I dare say youwrite sonnets to the moon—the chaste moon, and your husband. How sentimental!” “And you,”—“No, my dear, I thank heaven I never could make a rhyme in my life.—Farewell—adieu—remember to-night,—bring Lord Avondale—that divine Henry: though beware too; for many a lady has to mourn the loss of her husband, as soon as she has introduced him into the society offascinatingfriends.” “He is out of town.” “Then so much the better. After all, a wife is only pleasant when her husband is out of the way. She must either be in love, or out of love with him. If the latter, they wrangle; and if the former, it is ten times worse. Lovers are at all times insufferable; but when the holy laws of matrimony give them a lawful right to be so amazingly fond and affectionate, it makes one sick.” “Which are you, in love or out of love with Mr. Selwyn?”—“Neither, my child, neither. He never molests me, neverintrudes his dear dull personage on my society. He is the best of his race, and only married me out of pure benevolence. We were fourteen raw Scotch girls—all hideous, and no chance of being got rid of, either by marriage, or death—so healthy and ugly. I believe we are all alive and flourishing somewhere or other now. Think then of dear good Mr. Selwyn, who took me for his mate, because I let him play at cards whenever he pleased. He is so fond of cheating, he never can get any one but me to play with him. Farewell.—Au revoir.—I shall expect you at ten.—Adieu, chère petite.” Saying which Lady Augusta left Calantha.
How different from the animated discussion at Lady Mandeville’s, was the loud laugh and boisterous tone of Lady Augusta Selwyn, whom Calantha found, on her return, at that very moment stepping from her carriage, and enquiring for her. “Ah, my dear sweet friend,” she cried, flying towards Calantha, and shaking her painfully by the hand, “this fortuitous concurrence of atoms, fills my soul with rapture. But I was resolved to see you. I have promised and vowed three things in your name; therefore, consider me as your sponsor, and indeed I am old enough to be such. In the first place, you must come to me to-night, for I have a little supper, and all my guests attend only in the hope of meeting you. You are the bribe I have held out—youare to stand me in lieu of a good house, good cook, agreeable husband, and pretty face,—in all of which I am most unfortunately deficient. Having confessed thus much, it would be barbarous, it would be inhuman you know to refuse me. Now for the second favour,” continued this energetic lady:—“come alone; for though I have a great respect for Mrs. and Miss Seymour, yet I never know what I am about when their very sensible eyes are fixed upon me.”—“Oh you need not fear, Sophia would not come if I wished it; and Mrs. Seymour”—“I have something else to suggest,” interrupted Lady Augusta:—“introduce me immediately to your husband: he is divine, I hear—perfectly divine!” “I cannot at this moment; but”—“By the bye, why were you not at the ball last night. I can tell you there were some who expected you there. Yes, I assure you, a pair of languid blue eyes watching for you—a fascinating new friend waitingto take you home to apetit souper très-bien assorti. I went myself. It was monstrously dull at the ball:—insupportable, I assure you; perfectly so. Mrs. Turner and her nine daughters! It is quite a public calamity, Mrs. Turner being so very prolific—the produce so frightful. Amongst other animals, when they commit such blunders, the brood is drowned; but we christians are suffered to grow up till the land is overrun.” “Heigho.” “What is the matter? You look sotristeto-day, not even my wit can enliven you.—Isn’t it well, love? or has its husband been plaguing it? Now I have it:—you have, perchance, been translating an Ode of Pindar. I was there myself this morning; and it gave me the vapours for ten minutes; but I am used to these things you know child, and you are a novice. By the bye, where is your cousin,le beau capitaine, le chef des brigands? I was quite frappè with his appearance.” “Youmay think it strange,” said Calantha, “but I have not seen him these eight years—not since he was quite a child.” “Oh, what an interview there will be then,” said Lady Augusta: “he is a perfect ruffian.”
“Are you aware that we have three sets of men now much in request?—There are these ruffians, who affect to be desperate, who game, who drink, who fight, who will captivate you, I am sure of it. They are always just going to be destroyed, or rather talk as if they were; and every thing they do, they must do it to desperation. Then come the exquisites. Lord Dallas is one, a sort of refinedpetit maître, quite thorough bred, though full of conceit. As to the third set, your useful men, who know how to read and write, in which class critics, reviewers, politicians and poets stand, you may always know them by their slovenly appearance. But you are freezing,mon enfant. What can be the matter? Iwill release you in a moment from my visitation. I have ten thousand things to say.—Will you come to my opera box Tuesday? Are you going to the masked ball Thursday? Has Mrs. Churchill sent for you to herdéjeûné paré. I know she wishes, more than I can express, to have you. Perhaps you will let me drive you there. My ponies are beautiful arabians: have you seen them? Oh, by the bye, why were you not at your aunt Lady Margaret’s concert? I believe it was a concert:—there was a melancholy noise in one of the rooms; but I did not attend to it.—Do you like music?”—“I do; but I must own I am not one who profess to be all enchantment at the scraping of a fiddle, because some old philharmonic plays on it; nor can I admire the gurgling and groaning of a number of foreigners, because it is called singing.”
“They tell me you think of nothing but love and poetry. I dare say youwrite sonnets to the moon—the chaste moon, and your husband. How sentimental!” “And you,”—“No, my dear, I thank heaven I never could make a rhyme in my life.—Farewell—adieu—remember to-night,—bring Lord Avondale—that divine Henry: though beware too; for many a lady has to mourn the loss of her husband, as soon as she has introduced him into the society offascinatingfriends.” “He is out of town.” “Then so much the better. After all, a wife is only pleasant when her husband is out of the way. She must either be in love, or out of love with him. If the latter, they wrangle; and if the former, it is ten times worse. Lovers are at all times insufferable; but when the holy laws of matrimony give them a lawful right to be so amazingly fond and affectionate, it makes one sick.” “Which are you, in love or out of love with Mr. Selwyn?”—“Neither, my child, neither. He never molests me, neverintrudes his dear dull personage on my society. He is the best of his race, and only married me out of pure benevolence. We were fourteen raw Scotch girls—all hideous, and no chance of being got rid of, either by marriage, or death—so healthy and ugly. I believe we are all alive and flourishing somewhere or other now. Think then of dear good Mr. Selwyn, who took me for his mate, because I let him play at cards whenever he pleased. He is so fond of cheating, he never can get any one but me to play with him. Farewell.—Au revoir.—I shall expect you at ten.—Adieu, chère petite.” Saying which Lady Augusta left Calantha.