Mounser Green was dutifully respectful to his aunt.
Patagonia had not yet presented itself to him. Some four or five
hundred a year, which the old lady had at her own disposal, had for
years past contributed to Mounser's ideas of duty. And now
Arabella's presence at the small house in Portugal Street certainly
added a new zest to those ideas. The niece of the Duke of Mayfair,
and the rejected of Lord Rufford, was at the present moment an
interesting young woman in Mounser Green's world. There were many
who thought that she had been ill-used. Had she succeeded, all the
world would have pitied Lord Rufford; but as he had escaped, there
was a strong party for the lady. And gradually Mounser Green, who
some weeks ago had not thought very much of her, became one of the
party. She had brought her maid with her; and when she found that
Mounser Green came to the house every evening, either before or
after dinner, she had recourse to her accustomed lures. She would
sit quiet, dejected, almost broken-hearted in the corner of a sofa;
but when he spoke to her she would come to life and raise her
eyes,--not ignoring the recognised dejection of her jilted
position, not pretending to this minor stag of six tines that she
was a sprightly unwooed young fawn, fresh out of the forest,--
almost asking him to weep with her, and playing her accustomed
lures, though in a part which she had not hitherto filled.
Pages:
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674