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Updated: June 8, 2025
I believe he plagued her to marry him. A nice husband for Nancy! 'I wish we had taken to each other, said Mrs. Damerel musingly. 'I think she was a little jealous of the attention I had paid to you. But perhaps we shall do better some day. And I'm quite content so long as you care a little for me, dear boy. You'll never give me up, will you?
French would not listen to the suggestion. 'Who ever heard of such a thing? It wouldn't be proper. 'Proper! Oh, I like that! he replied, with scathing irony. 'You can either like it or not. Mrs. Damerel wouldn't dream of allowing it. I think she's quite as good a judge of propriety as you are. They were in a corner of the dining-room.
'I heard some one say to-day that it might be as well to find out who you really are. And if any harm comes to Fanny, I shall take a little trouble about that inquiry myself. Mrs. Damerel changed colour, but no movement betrayed anxiety. In the attitude of dignified disdain, she kept her eyes on a point above Miss. French's head, and stood so until the plebeian adversary had withdrawn.
After the meal, they went up together to the drawing-room, and sat unoccupied. 'If we lose father, said Nancy, in a dull voice very unlike her ordinary tones, 'we shall have not a single relative left, that is anything to us. Her brother kept silence. 'Has Mrs. Damerel, she continued, 'ever said anything to you about mother's family?
Damerel was amusing herself with a comic paper; she rose briskly, though with the effort of a person who is no longer slim. 'Here I am, you see! up in the clouds. Now, did you get my letter? 'No letter, but a telegram. 'There, I thought so. Isn't that just like me? As soon as I had sent out the letter to post, I said to myself that I had written the wrong address.
The last time I was in Devonshire I called on Mr and Mrs Damerel. They are an interesting old couple, who have brought up a large family in comfort and respectability. 'Can you direct me to Mr William Egg's? said I one morning to a smart shopman, who was loitering at the door of a showy haberdasher in the principal street of a town in Ireland, in which, for a few months, I once resided.
To this, Horace could venture only an uncertain reply. He had not much hope of mutual understanding between his sister and Mrs. Damerel. At half-past five he was home again, and there followed a cheerless evening. Nancy was in her own room until nine o'clock. She came down for supper, but had no appetite; her eyes showed redness from weeping; Horace could say nothing for her comfort.
Couldn't any one have told you what a girl like Fanny French would do if she lost her head among people of a higher class? 'Then Mrs. Damerel must have foreseen it. That's just what I say. She pretended to be a friend to the girl, on purpose to ruin her. 'Have you accused her of it? 'Yes, I have. His eyes flashed.
Damerel was obviously annoyed by his demeanour, and made little effort to disguise her feeling. She gave him the look of one who does not mean to be trifled with. 'Really, answered the young man with a smile, 'I don't know what authority you have to make such inquiries. You are not, I believe, Miss. Lord's guardian.
He spoke in a high, vehement note; his cheeks flushed violently, his clenched fist quivered at his side. 'How do you know where she is gone? Nancy asked. 'She as good as told her sister that she was going to Brussels with some one. Then one day she disappeared, with her luggage. And that fellow Mankelow's his name has gone too. He lived in the same boarding-house with Mrs. Damerel.
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