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Her icy civility is unendurable. And this woman is my darling Ovid's mother! "Have I done with my troubles now? No, Teresa; not even yet. Oh, how I wish I was with you in Italy! "Your letters persist in telling me that I am deluded in believing Miss Minerva to be truly my friend. Do pray remember even if I am wrong what a solitary position mine is, in Mrs. Gallilee's house!
Gallilee's reply. With or without an excuse, Lady Northlake was to be resolutely prevented from taking a foremost place in her niece's heart, and encouraging the idea of her niece's marriage. Mrs. Gallilee felt almost pious enough to thank Heaven that her sister's palace in the Highlands was at one end of Great Britain, and her own marine villa at the other!
Gallilee was leaning back in her chair: her hands hung down on either side of her; her eyes looked up drowsily at the ceiling. "Can I speak a word, ma'am?" Mrs. Gallilee's eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. "Is that my maid?" she asked. Treated to all appearance with marked contempt, Marceline no longer cared to assume the forms of respect either in language or manner.
Waiting the appearance of the fair original, Mr. Mool looked at the portrait, and then mentally reviewed the history of Mrs. Gallilee's family. What he did next, no person acquainted with the habits of lawyers will be weak enough to believe. Mr. Mool blushed. Is this the language of exaggeration, describing a human anomaly on the roll of attorneys? The fact shall be left to answer the question.
Mr. Null admitted that the clerks in the office had told him so, and said at last, what he ought to have said at first: "I am Mrs. Gallilee's medical attendant there is serious necessity for communicating with her husband." Mr. Mool instantly led the way into the office. The chief clerk approached his employer, with some severity of manner.
"The first legacy mentioned in the Will," said Mr. Mool, "is a legacy to Lady Northlake." Mrs. Gallilee's face turned as hard as iron. "One hundred pounds," Mr. Mool continued, "to buy a mourning ring." Mrs. Gallilee's eyes became eloquent in an instant, and said as if in words, "Thank Heaven!" "So like your uncle's unpretending good sense," she remarked to her son.
That evening, Carmina sent a telegram to Rome, on the chance that the nurse might not yet have begun her journey. Guessing in the dark, Carmina and the governess had ignorantly attributed the sinister alteration in Mrs. Gallilee's manner to the prospect of Teresa's unwelcome return.
Gallilee's mind was not at ease. He was troubled by a question entirely new to him the question of himself, in the character of husband and father. Accustomed through long years of conjugal association to look up to his wife as a superior creature, he was now conscious that her place in his estimation had been lost, beyond recovery.
The miserable day of Teresa's departure was passed by Carmina in the solitude of her room: gently and firmly, she refused to see anyone. This strange conduct added to Mrs. Gallilee's anxieties. Already absorbed in considering Ovid's obstinacy, and the means of overcoming it, she was now confronted by a resolute side in the character of her niece, which took her by surprise.
When he has had a month's change, let me see his letters; and then, if I have anything more to say, I will tell you what I think of your son." Left in this position, Mrs. Gallilee's hard self-denial yielded to the one sound conclusion that lay before her. The only influence that could be now used over Ovid, with the smallest chance of success, was the influence of Carmina.
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