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Updated: May 8, 2025
"Why do you do it?" asked Miss Ensor. "Damned if I know," answered Mr. Simson, with a burst of candour. "Can't help it, I suppose. Lost me job again." "The old story?" suggested Miss Ensor. "The old story," sighed Mr. Simson. "One of the customers happened to be passing last Wednesday when I was speaking on the Embankment. Heard my opinion of the middle classes?"
Now I know very well that those of my readers who intend visiting Cuba will be much more interested in statistics of hotels than in any speculations, poetical or philosophical, with which I might be glad to recompense their patience. Let me tell them, therefore, that the Ensor House is neither better nor worse than other American hotels in Cuba.
Oh, how much comfort is in a little cup of chocolate! what an underpinning does it afford our spiritual house, a material basis for our mental operations! In its support, we go it a little longer on the Plaza, see more masks, hear more guitars and "catch-this-rat!" and finally return, in a hired volante, to the Ensor House, where rest and the bedless cots await us.
But we all know old Sir Ensor's name, so that may be no obstacle." "Sir Ensor Doone and his sons so be it. How many sons, Master Huckaback, and what is the name of each one?" "How can I tell you, my lord, even if I had known them all as well as my own shop-boys? Nevertheless there were seven of them, and that should be no obstacle."
He had taken as much of liking to me first shown in his eyes by the firelight as his father had of hatred; and I, perceiving his noble courage, scorn of lies, and high spirit, became almost as fond of Ensie as he was of me. He told us that his name was 'Ensie, meant for 'Ensor, I suppose, from his father's grandfather, the old Sir Ensor Doone.
"Oh, you talk to him," she urged. "Here, he's lost his job again, and is losing his girl: all because of his silly politics. Tell him he's got to have sense and stop it." Mary seemed troubled. Evidently, as Miss Ensor had stated, advice was not her line. "Perhaps he's got to do it, dearie," she suggested. "What do you mean by got to do it?" exclaimed Miss Ensor.
"Counsellor," said Sir Ensor Doone, standing back in his height from him, "here is a lady of good repute " "Oh, no, sir; only a woman." "Allow me, madam, by your good leave. Here is a lady, Counsellor, of great repute in this part of the country, who charges the Doones with having unjustly slain her husband " "Murdered him! murdered him!" cried my mother, "if ever there was a murder.
For the Countess of Dugal was daughter, and only child, of the last Lord Lorne, whose sister had married Sir Ensor Doone; while he himself had married the sister of Earl Brandir. This nobleman had a country house near the village of Kensington; and here his niece dwelled with him, when she was not in attendance on Her Majesty the Queen, who had taken a liking to her.
'Madam, said Sir Ensor Doone being born a gentleman, although a very bad one 'I crave pardon of you. My eyes are old, or I might have known. Now, if we have your husband prisoner, he shall go free without ransoms, because I have insulted you. 'Sir, said my mother, being suddenly taken away with sorrow, because of his gracious manner, 'please to let me cry a bit.
Simson shook his head. "Somebody's got to tackle them," he said. "Tell them the truth about themselves, to their faces." "Yes, but it needn't be you," suggested Miss Ensor. Mary was leaning over the table. Miss Ensor's four-penny veal and ham pie was ready. Mary arranged it in front of her. "Eat it while it's hot, dearie," she counselled. "It won't be so indigestible." Miss Ensor turned to her.
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