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Ned Rosier's English had improved; at least it exhibited in a less degree the French variation. His father was dead and his bonne dismissed, but the young man still conformed to the spirit of their teaching he never went to the edge of the lake. There was still something agreeable to the nostrils about him and something not offensive to nobler organs.
We shall not attempt to describe the alternate emotions of joy and sorrow which quickly succeeded each other in Mad. de Rosier's heart, while she listened to her son's little history. Impatient to communicate her happiness to her friends, she took leave hastily of her beloved son, promising to call for him early the next day.
One of the housemaids apprised Mrs. Grace of Mad. de Rosier's arrival. "She's getting out of her chair, Mrs. Grace, in the hall." Grace started up, put Favoretta into a little closet, and charged her not to make the least noise for her life. Then, with a candle in her hand, and a treacherous smile upon her countenance, she sallied forth to the head of the stairs, to light Mad. de Rosier.
With much difficulty those who had so much to say, submitted to Mad. de Rosier's entreaty of "Let us talk of it in the morning." She was afraid that Favoretta, who was present, would not draw any salutary moral from what might be said in the first emotions of joy for her safety.
The bookseller was making out a bill for one of his customers, but struck with Mad. de Rosier's anxiety, and perceiving that she was a foreigner by her accent, he put down his pen, and begged her to repeat, once more, the description of her son. He tried to recollect whether he had seen such a person but he had not.
Grace, offended by Mad. de Rosier's success in teaching her former pupil to read; jealous of this lady's favour with her mistress and with the young ladies; irritated by the bold defiance of the indignant champion who had stood forth in his friend's defence, formed a secret resolution to obtain revenge. This she imparted, the very same day, to her confidant, Mrs. Rebecca. Mrs.
"And talking to her," added Isabella; "which, you know, hinders people very much, mamma, when they are dressing." At Mad. de Rosier's door they found Herbert, with his slate in his hand, and his sum ready cast up. "May I bring this little man in with me?" said Mrs.
"I am sorry that you were not at home this morning," she continued, in a hurried manner "you would have been delighted with Dr. X ; he is one of the most entertaining men I am acquainted with and you would have been vastly proud of your pupil there," pointing to Isabella; "I assure you, she pleased me extremely." In the evening, after Mad. de Rosier's departure, Mrs.
She felt no bitterness toward her father; there was no bitterness in her heart; there was only the sweetness of fidelity to Edward Rosier, and a strange, exquisite intimation that she could prove it better by remaining single than even by marrying him. "Your father would like you to make a better marriage," said Isabel. "Mr. Rosier's fortune is not at all large."
"No one can think of me as Mr. Rosier does; no one has the right." "Ah, but I don't admit Mr. Rosier's right!" Isabel hypocritically cried. Pansy only gazed at her, evidently much puzzled; and Isabel, taking advantage of it, began to represent to her the wretched consequences of disobeying her father.
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