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Updated: June 16, 2025
I've never given much thought to infantine phenomena of any kind; still, I'm inclined to believe now that there must be such cases. Of course, we know a type of blond, née brunette; for instance, Mrs. But I'm not talking of the Mrs. Senters of the world; I'm talking of Ellaline's unexpected daughter. She has changed almost incredibly between the ages of four and nineteen.
I keep wondering what ancestress of Ellaline de Nesville's, or Fred Lethbridge's, is gazing out of those azure windows which are this girl's eyes. If Fred's soul, or Ellaline's, peeps from behind the clear, bright panes, it contrives to keep itself well hidden so far. But I expect anything.
At four years old the little thing undoubtedly had a dollish resemblance to her mother. I thought I remembered that she had the first Ellaline's great dark eyes, full of incipient coquetry, and curly black lashes, which the little flirt already knew how to use, by instinct. The same sort of mouth, too, which to look at makes a boy believe in a personal Cupid, and a man in a personal devil.
"She really couldn't help it, and I shall be so sorry to distress her." He was still glaring, and desperation made me crafty. "You wouldn't refuse the first thing I've asked you?" I tried to wheedle him. I hoped for Ellaline's sake, of course that I should get another smile; but instead, I got a frown. "Now I begin to realize that you are your mother's daughter," said he, in a queer, hard tone.
He has given me some pretty things, and though I hate the thought of parting with them in such a way, as they're Ellaline's by rights, it's no more than fair she should benefit by them in the hour of her need. Poor girl! Of course there's nothing for it but she must marry the young man now, yet it seems a poor outlook, doesn't it?
I was so furious I could have killed her if she'd been on the spot. There is no rage like the dress rage, is there? My one hope is that the Dragon may take as little interest in Ellaline's clothes as he has taken in Ellaline's self, or that, being used to the costumes of the Bengalese, which, perhaps, are somewhat sketchy, he may be thankful that his ward has any at all.
Between them I was quite dashed, and murmured something non-committal about its being very nice, if it had been convenient, but "There is no 'but," said Ellaline's guardian. "That settles it. We stop the night in Southsea, where there's no doubt a good hotel; and I will send someone immediately to the Ritz for your boxes, Emily and yours." He never calls me by name if he can help it.
And I can't help being pleased that Ellaline's adored one won't be able to leave his manoeuvres, to make her his own, till a fortnight or so later than she expected. That is, I can't help being glad, as the doctor thinks you ought to stop at Champel-les-Bains till after the first week of September, and we couldn't be together, even if I were back in Paris.
I think they're rather easier to forgive, somehow, than women. Is that why they're dangerous? But D. B. could never be dangerous to me, in the sense of falling in love. His aunt certainly wishes to throw us together; I suppose on account of Ellaline's money. She doesn't like girls, I'm sure, but would always be ready, on principle, to give first aid to heiresses.
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