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‘I wish,’ returned, she, with a short laugh, ‘that all the attractive points and desirable qualifications of the two gentlemen were united in one—that Lord Lowborough had Huntingdon’s handsome face and good temper, and all his wit, and mirth and charm, or else that Huntingdon had Lowborough’s pedigree, and title, and delightful old family seat, and I had him; and you might have the other and welcome.’
Well, give me my flesh and blood lover, and I’ll leave all the Sir Herberts and Valentines to you—if you can find them.’ ‘I don’t want them,’ said she. ‘I’ll be satisfied with flesh and blood too—only the spirit must shine through and predominate. But don’t you think Mr. Huntingdon’s face is too red?’ ‘No!’ cried I, indignantly. ‘It is not red at all.
‘Praise God from whom all blessings flow.’ It is a fact that Wilks’s first sermon in the Countess of Huntingdon’s Chapel at Norwich was from the text, ‘There is a lad here with five barley loaves and a few small fishes.’ Let me tell another story, this time in connection with that Old Meeting which has so much to attract the visitor at Norwich.
Huntingdon’s sister, and that, as well for his own sake as for hers, I could not bear to think of his being deceived into a union with one so unworthy of him, and so utterly unfitted to be the partner of his quiet home, and the companion of his life.
Huntingdon’s return shall render this a little more conducive to your comfort.’ ‘She is very kind,’ I answered, ‘but I am not alone, you see;—and those whose time is fully occupied seldom complain of solitude.’ ‘Will you not come to-morrow, then? She will be sadly disappointed if you refuse.’ I did not relish being thus compassionated for my loneliness; but, however, I promised to come.
Huntingdon’s habits had lived to a ripe though miserable old age. ‘And if I,’ said she, ‘am young in years, I am old in sorrow; but even if trouble should fail to kill me before vice destroys him, think, if he reached but fifty years or so, would you wait twenty or fifteen—in vague uncertainty and suspense—through all the prime of youth and manhood—and marry at last a woman faded and worn as I shall be—without ever having seen me from this day to that?—You would not,’ she continued, interrupting my earnest protestations of unfailing constancy,—‘or if you would, you should not.
Huntingdon’s wrongs or unmoved by her sufferings, but, I must confess, I felt a kind of selfish gratification in watching her husband’s gradual decline in her good graces, and seeing how completely he extinguished all her affection at last.
Huntingdon’s acquaintances appear to be no better pleased with our approaching union than mine. This morning’s post brought him letters from several of his friends, during the perusal of which, at the breakfast-table, he excited the attention of the company by the singular variety of his grimaces.
Wilmot is to bring his niece and her cousin Milicent. I suppose my aunt thinks the latter will benefit me by her society, and the salutary example of her gentle deportment and lowly and tractable spirit; and the former I suspect she intends as a species of counter-attraction to win Mr. Huntingdon’s attention from me.
Wilmot’s, that he was a worthless old reprobate; and by Mr. Boarham’s, that he was not an agreeable companion; and by Mr. Huntingdon’s, that he was neither a fool nor a knave, though, possibly, neither a sage nor a saint—but that is no matter to me, as I am not likely to meet him again—unless as an occasional partner in the ball-room.’ It was not so, however, for I met him again next morning.
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