 | Dorothy |  |
Not with the icy disdain that our ignorant Dolly expected,
Not with the haughty contempt dear to a Jellifer's heart,
But with a heavenly smile, inexpressibly sweet and superior,
Helping her low rich voice, thus did the goddess begin:—
‘Robert, I see you are come—and Sir Harry expressly desired it—
‘Here, with the girl of your choice, into a circle of friends!
‘For you have served us so well, you have been such an excellent keeper,
‘We are entitled, you know, thus to be friendly with you.
‘And, for myself, I have wish'd to make the young woman's acquaintance,
‘Knowing how well you deserve all that a woman can give.
‘Yes’—and the light of her charms shone full on the tremulous Dolly—
‘Yes, you are happy, my girl! And I am sure you are good:
‘I have inquired; I find you have long been an excellent servant;
‘So we may justly presume you will do well as a wife.
‘Still, I was hardly prepared—I had not been told of your beauty:
‘Where have you hid it? and why have I not seen you before?’—
Why? Pretty question, indeed! For how should her ladyship notice
Dolly at work on the farm, Dolly a-field with the plough?
Ere they had time to reply, the amiable goddess continued—
‘Is she not handsome, Charles? Has he not chosen with taste?
‘Yes, you are comely, my child; I declare, you are beautiful, really!
‘And you have sense, I perceive—far too much sense to be vain.
‘Tell me your name, and your age?’ And Dorothy curtsey'd, and told it:
‘Ah, 'tis a charming old name; fresh as the scent of the hay!
‘Dorothy, when you come home to your husband's house by the cover,
‘I shall inspect you, and see, some day, how happy you are.’
‘Thank you, my Lady, I'm sure,’ said Robert; ‘that will be an honour!’
Dorothy echoed his words—‘Thank you, my Lady, I'm sure!’
Thinking, however, far more of that vision of home and a husband,
Offer'd so kindly, and now nearer than ever to her.
‘But,’ said my Lady once more, ‘I must not keep you all standing;
‘You, Mrs. Jellifer, know what I should wish to be done;
‘You have already, no doubt, offer'd tea to your guests—or a supper—
‘Not in the servants' hall; here, in your own pretty room.
‘And there is one thing yet: for, Robert, you know at a wedding
‘Brides must have everything new, everything proper and smart:
‘So’—and she turn'd to the maid—‘you must let me make you a present;
‘Something to buy you a dress such as your beauty deserves.’
Then, from a perfumed purse, with gloved and delicate fingers,
Something she drew, with a smile: Dorothy, blushing and brown,
Held out her own poor hand, reluctantly forced to reveal it;
Curtsey'd and humbly replied, ‘Thank you, my Lady,’ again.
But when her ladyship's eyes caught sight of poor Dorothy's fingers,
And when the tips of her gloves touch'd that astonishing hand,
Startled, she lifted her brows, and with wonder and horror and pity
Gazed on the grey hard palm, bright with the polish of toil:
Gazed, and look'd up from the hand to the beautiful face of its owner;
Then from that feminine face back to the labourer's hand:
Seeming about to exclaim, to ask of that terrible contrast:
Checking herself in the act, only for Dorothy's sake—
Dolly, who never observed that fearful, that fatal impression:
Dolly, who, had she been ask'd, would not have minded at all;
Would but have artlessly said, ‘It's work, if you please, ma'am, has done it;
‘Work, that has harden'd my hands; work, that has made 'em so big!’
Not with the haughty contempt dear to a Jellifer's heart,
But with a heavenly smile, inexpressibly sweet and superior,
Helping her low rich voice, thus did the goddess begin:—
‘Robert, I see you are come—and Sir Harry expressly desired it—
‘Here, with the girl of your choice, into a circle of friends!
‘For you have served us so well, you have been such an excellent keeper,
‘We are entitled, you know, thus to be friendly with you.
‘And, for myself, I have wish'd to make the young woman's acquaintance,
‘Knowing how well you deserve all that a woman can give.
‘Yes’—and the light of her charms shone full on the tremulous Dolly—
‘Yes, you are happy, my girl! And I am sure you are good:
‘I have inquired; I find you have long been an excellent servant;
‘So we may justly presume you will do well as a wife.
‘Still, I was hardly prepared—I had not been told of your beauty:
‘Where have you hid it? and why have I not seen you before?’—
Why? Pretty question, indeed! For how should her ladyship notice
Dolly at work on the farm, Dolly a-field with the plough?
Ere they had time to reply, the amiable goddess continued—
‘Is she not handsome, Charles? Has he not chosen with taste?
72
‘And you have sense, I perceive—far too much sense to be vain.
‘Tell me your name, and your age?’ And Dorothy curtsey'd, and told it:
‘Ah, 'tis a charming old name; fresh as the scent of the hay!
‘Dorothy, when you come home to your husband's house by the cover,
‘I shall inspect you, and see, some day, how happy you are.’
‘Thank you, my Lady, I'm sure,’ said Robert; ‘that will be an honour!’
Dorothy echoed his words—‘Thank you, my Lady, I'm sure!’
Thinking, however, far more of that vision of home and a husband,
Offer'd so kindly, and now nearer than ever to her.
‘But,’ said my Lady once more, ‘I must not keep you all standing;
‘You, Mrs. Jellifer, know what I should wish to be done;
‘You have already, no doubt, offer'd tea to your guests—or a supper—
‘Not in the servants' hall; here, in your own pretty room.
‘And there is one thing yet: for, Robert, you know at a wedding
‘Brides must have everything new, everything proper and smart:
‘So’—and she turn'd to the maid—‘you must let me make you a present;
‘Something to buy you a dress such as your beauty deserves.’
Then, from a perfumed purse, with gloved and delicate fingers,
Something she drew, with a smile: Dorothy, blushing and brown,
Held out her own poor hand, reluctantly forced to reveal it;
Curtsey'd and humbly replied, ‘Thank you, my Lady,’ again.
But when her ladyship's eyes caught sight of poor Dorothy's fingers,
And when the tips of her gloves touch'd that astonishing hand,
Startled, she lifted her brows, and with wonder and horror and pity
Gazed on the grey hard palm, bright with the polish of toil:
Gazed, and look'd up from the hand to the beautiful face of its owner;
Then from that feminine face back to the labourer's hand:
Seeming about to exclaim, to ask of that terrible contrast:
Checking herself in the act, only for Dorothy's sake—
Dolly, who never observed that fearful, that fatal impression:
Dolly, who, had she been ask'd, would not have minded at all;
73
‘Work, that has harden'd my hands; work, that has made 'em so big!’
Now, with this harrowing scene, this sad revelation, before him,
How did the Colonel behave? What did it please him to do?
He too came forward, and smiled; and said, ‘For the sake of your lover
‘You must allow me, my girl, some little share in your joy!
‘Robert I know and respect; he will make you a very good husband;
‘And I may safely predict you'll be an excellent wife:
‘So, as a friend to you both—one gladly assured of your welfare—
‘I would present you with this, merely to purchase the ring.’
Most of his beautiful words (ah me, in the Parliament Chamber,
How many beautiful words falter unheeded away!)—
Most of his elegant words, in their incomprehensible beauty,
Pass'd over Dorothy's head, left her as wise as before;
But she received what he gave—received it in lowly confusion;
Curtseying; murmuring still, ‘Thank ye, Sir, thank ye, I'm sure!’
Till, for a crown of the whole, a startling thrilling finale,
Just as my Lady had turn'd, waving a gracious farewell,
‘Now,’ said the Colonel, ‘good-bye! Although I am almost a stranger,
‘I must confess that I wish—heartily wish—to shake hands!’
Nay, she was helpless, and cow'd: for the thing was all done in a moment:
Ere she could beg a reprieve, ere she could utter a word,
He, with an exquisite pose, with a graceful, a fatherly congé,
Lifting her hand, had convey'd part of it into his own!
Part of her tell-tale palm in his soft though masculine fingers
Rested a moment; and why—why did it make him afraid?
Why did the warrior turn pale, and, his grasp on a sudden relaxing,
Bid her a hasty adieu, striding away to the door?
Haply, that touch of her hand reveal'd to the affable Colonel
What a tremendous abyss sever'd our Dolly from him:
Rank, education, mind; even make and outward appearance,
All were against her, you see: all, save her beautiful face.
Yet, what of that? What else could one ever expect, in a servant?
Was it not kind, though, of him, taking such interest in her?
Or, was it only his Bill to Regulate Female Employment
Made him attentive to her—just to see what she was like?
How did the Colonel behave? What did it please him to do?
He too came forward, and smiled; and said, ‘For the sake of your lover
‘You must allow me, my girl, some little share in your joy!
‘Robert I know and respect; he will make you a very good husband;
‘And I may safely predict you'll be an excellent wife:
‘So, as a friend to you both—one gladly assured of your welfare—
‘I would present you with this, merely to purchase the ring.’
Most of his beautiful words (ah me, in the Parliament Chamber,
How many beautiful words falter unheeded away!)—
Most of his elegant words, in their incomprehensible beauty,
Pass'd over Dorothy's head, left her as wise as before;
But she received what he gave—received it in lowly confusion;
Curtseying; murmuring still, ‘Thank ye, Sir, thank ye, I'm sure!’
Till, for a crown of the whole, a startling thrilling finale,
Just as my Lady had turn'd, waving a gracious farewell,
‘Now,’ said the Colonel, ‘good-bye! Although I am almost a stranger,
‘I must confess that I wish—heartily wish—to shake hands!’
Nay, she was helpless, and cow'd: for the thing was all done in a moment:
Ere she could beg a reprieve, ere she could utter a word,
He, with an exquisite pose, with a graceful, a fatherly congé,
Lifting her hand, had convey'd part of it into his own!
Part of her tell-tale palm in his soft though masculine fingers
Rested a moment; and why—why did it make him afraid?
Why did the warrior turn pale, and, his grasp on a sudden relaxing,
Bid her a hasty adieu, striding away to the door?
Haply, that touch of her hand reveal'd to the affable Colonel
What a tremendous abyss sever'd our Dolly from him:
74
All were against her, you see: all, save her beautiful face.
Yet, what of that? What else could one ever expect, in a servant?
Was it not kind, though, of him, taking such interest in her?
Or, was it only his Bill to Regulate Female Employment
Made him attentive to her—just to see what she was like?
| Dorothy | |