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Updated: May 26, 2025
"Their father used not to know that I existed. Janet, I don't care for Nora to see much of them. You I can trust; but she is a bit of a featherbrain, and one never knows what may happen. Look to it." "I will, father." "And I will call on Mrs. Brand and have a chat with her. Poor soul! I daresay she has suffered. Still that does not make her a fit companion for my girls."
If you had only waited another year now, instead of throwing me over for old Featherbrain, it might have been for a baronet for of course there isn't a girl in New York could stand the ghost of a chance beside you." "A most delicate compliment," Edith says, her scornful lip curling; "one hardly knows which to admire most the refined tact of Mr.
With him she is coldly silent, her eyes are averted, her words are few. He smiles to himself, and asks her this pleasant question: "If she doesn't think Laura Featherbrain the prettiest and best-dressed lady in the room?" "I think Mrs. Featherbrain is well-named," Miss Darrell answers, her dark eyes flashing. "I understand Mr. Featherbrain is lying sick at home.
He drank, but not hopelessly; he gambled, but not past salvation; and there was generally, as we have said, some friend at hand to pick the poor besmirched featherbrain out of the mire. Dora grew up not unhappily. There were shifts and privations to put up with; there were stormy days when life seemed a hurricane of words and tears.
It is easy to see she loves him with almost more than a mother's love. A little longer and it is all over. Carriage after carriage rolls away Sir Victor and Lady Helena shake hands with this pretty, well-bred Miss Darrell, and go too. She sees Charley linger to the last moment, by fascinating Mrs. Featherbrain, whispering the usual inanity, in her pretty pink ear.
"How often did I beg your pardon, Beatrix; I didn't catch what you said." "I see you didn't. You're half-asleep, arn't you? A penny for your thoughts, Dithy." "They're not worth a farthing," Edith answered, contemptuously. "I chanced just then to be thinking of Mrs. Featherbrain. What was it you asked something about Sir Victor?" "I asked how often Sir Victor danced with you last night."
Featherbrain had recognized an old acquaintance in Lady Catheron, and hailed her with effusion. For Edith, she shrank away with the old feeling of dislike and repulsion, and yet she listened to her chatter, too. "How sad it was," said gay Mrs. Featherbrain, "about the poor, dear Stuarts. That delightful Charley, too! ah! it was very sad. Did Lady Catheron correspond with them?
She turned dead white for a minute, then she spoke: 'I never discuss family matters with perfect strangers. Those were her words 'perfect strangers. 'I consider your question impertinent, madame, and decline to answer it. Then she turned her back upon Mrs. Featherbrain; and shouldn't I like to have seen Mrs. Featherbrain's face. Since then, she just bows frigidly to her, no more."
Rather handsome, isn't he? only I detest very fair men. What a pity, for the peace of mind of our New York girls, he should be engaged in England." "Ah! but he isn't engaged I happen to know," said Charley; "so you see what comes of marrying in haste, Mrs. Featherbrain.
Was there in her heart any hope of seeing, as well, other friends? Hardly and yet, as America drew near and nearer, her heart beat with a hope and a restlessness she could no more explain than I can. In Naples, six months ago, she had met a party of Americans, and among them Mrs. Featherbrain, of light-headed memory. Mrs.
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