University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.
CONVERSATION.

“'Tis a lovely face,” said Mr. Lassar. He was
leaning against the mantel-piece, and fixedly contemplating
an engraving of Lady Russell.

Mrs. Morey started—she did not know that he
had lingered after the breakfast-things were removed.
She had not yet risen, but as her custom
was, remained to wash the cups, and take note that
every thing was arranged in its proper place.

“Mr. Morey calls that picture my guardian
saint,” said she, faintly smiling. “Indeed, the
feelings which it often awakens in my heart are
comforting and elevating. It reminds me of the
strength of mind affection may impart—of the fortitude
with which feeble woman may support the
deepest afflictions. I never look at it without feeling
a conviction of the wonderful moral influence
with which my sex are endowed, and of the responsibility
which that endowment imposes. Is it
not strange, Mr. Lassar, that we should be such
triflers?”

“No, I think not, while so much importance is

attached to trifles. Your sex are, excuse me,
madam, for the plainness of my remark, very fond
of influence—power, some call it; and while the
chief object of their education is to qualify them
for display, and the voice of society makes that
display the standard of rank and fashion, the majority
will be triflers.”

“How can this be corrected?”

“There are two methods. The most speedy
and noble one might be effected by the rich and
talented. If they would lend their aid only to objects
of real importance, and always sustain persons
of real worth of character, whatever might be their
worldly circumstances, they could soon make the
standard of fashion that of elevated moral goodness
and mental acquirements. The other method is,
that the people, the great mass, shall give the tone
to public opinion, and proscribe every thing which
is not useful in itself, and equally accessible to all.
The first method has for its object the improvement
of the poor; the other, that of putting down the
rich.”

“You do not think the last likely to prevail!”

“Judging from present appearances, it may;
though I cannot give up my darling hope, that the
rich will be instructed by the signs of the times,
and use their advantages more wisely. And yet,
how can I hope, when I have daily before my eyes

their abuse of power. What has shut the door of
Mrs. A— against you, madam, but the want of
wealth, or its appearance? What has opened it to
Mrs. Danvers but the appearance of wealth? Had
Mrs. A— acted on Christian principles, her attentions
would have increased with your misfortunes.
Had she acted on rational principles, she
would not have abandoned you under a reverse to
which the richest are liable, and which, when sustained
with patience, magnanimity, and self-exertion,
entitles the sufferer to added respect and consideration.”

“I should not have attended her party, had I
been invited,” observed Mrs. Morey, calmly; “because
I could not have afforded the expense of time
and dress.”

“Very well, madam; I presume you would not.
But then you would have made your own election,
and in deciding that now, the duties of life, rather
than its amusements, were the most proper pursuit,
you would have felt a pleasure in their performance,
which, while the contempt of the fashionable
world is thus poured upon them, no woman's feelings
can fully appreciate.”

“Oh! it is not for myself that I ever regard a
slight,” said Mrs. Morey, tears rushing to her
eyes. “But my poor husband, he is so distressed
when he sees that his loss of property has subjected

me to these insults, that he is quite unmanned. If
I could only persuade him to regard it as lightly
as I do, I should be perfectly contented and
happy.”

“You devote yourself entirely to your husband,
I see,” returned Mr. Lassar, approaching her. “I
have often read in novels this disinterestedness of
the female heart, but never before saw it exemplified.”

“He deserves it—my husband deserves it all.
You cannot judge by his present appearance what
he was, when he adopted me, a poor, friendless
orphan, as his sister. You smile; well—perhaps
he intended I should be more. But he was father,
brother, guardian to me then, and he has since
been all. The world may say he has been unwise
—but he has always been just to others and to me.
Oh! I shall never overpay his kindnesses.”

“I can sympathize in your desolate feelings,
arising from want of kindred,” observed Mr. Lassar,
tenderly. “I have for many, many years,
been a desolate being, separated from my country
and friends; even my native language was a strange
sound to my ears.”

Mr. Lassar seemed fairly launched into his own
history, and how far he might have forestalled his
promised evening communication, it is impossible
to say. He was cut short by the appearance of

Mrs. Danvers; she stared most inquisitively on the
tête-à-tête—then returning, with stately politeness,
Mr. Lassar's cold bow, as he passed out of
the apartment, she informed Mrs. Morey that she
came to tell her, Mr. Danvers and lady had an
invitation to take a New-Year's dinner with the
Hon. Judge P—. “And,” continued she, “we
shall go, though the time is short; no fault of Mrs.
P—. She sent the card a week since, but it
was lost. The servant deserves a prison.”

“Pardon my troubling you, Mrs. Morey. I
just wished to have your opinion respecting my
jewellery. Which shall I wear, the topaz, or these
emeralds set in pearls?” said Mrs. Danvers.

“The emeralds and pearls would be my choice.
They are beautiful.”

“Mr. Danvers insisted that I should have a set
of diamonds—but I thought them too extravagant.
He said so much, that I was obliged to take this
ring. Do you not think the stone a rich one?”

“Very. Yes, it is a real diamond, and elegantly
set.”

“I am glad it suits your taste, because Mr. Danvers
thinks so highly of your judgment. He says,
that when you wore ornaments, they were always
superb. I should think you would sometimes
wear them now.”

“I sold my ornaments during my husband's
long illness,” said Mrs. Morey, in a quiet tone.

“Dear me—I forgot. Well, you are so good
that you do not need such flimsy things. But my
husband is never happy unless I make a show.
And really, this dinner party is a formidable affair;
and then we must attend the soirée at Mrs. A—'s.
It is too much. I am half inclined not to go this
evening; you must know I have a penchant to
learn who Mr. Lassar is; and this evening he promised
his history, or perhaps he told it you this
morning?”

Mrs. Morey had so long and strictly governed
her own feelings, that neither the evident intention
of mortifying and vexing her, exhibited by Mrs.
Danvers, while displaying her jewellery, nor the
last ill-bred remark, had any effect on her mild
face, except that of raising a half smile.

“Well,” continued Mrs. Danvers, “who is
he?”

“He has not yet told me; I expect that pleasure
this evening.”

“It will be a pleasure. Why, he must be some
nobleman. And he cannot be an exile, for they
are always poor. And you know he has always
dressed like a lord; and then, his rooms are so
richly furnished. He must be either a baron or a
bandit, as I often tell my husband; and so fond as

he is of your children—I should have thought you
would have found out who he was six months ago.
How I wish I knew!”

“I have never felt any solicitude on the subject.
He came highly recommended! he has ever sustained
the character given him; and more—he has
been a friend as well as a boarder.”

“Do you know he is soon going away?”

“I had no thought of the kind. When?
Where?”

“I was told to-day—it is a great secret—but
I was told that he had purchased that splendid
house in — street, next door to Mrs. A—'s.”

“Is he intending to occupy it?”

“I guess so—though perhaps not. He said he
purchased it for his sister—but who can she be?
Have you ever heard him name her?”

“No—I thought he had no relations.”

“I presume he has not. It was only a ruse—
and he will live there himself. Mrs. A— sent
him a card for her party—she is dying to be acquainted
with him; but it seems he does not intend
to go. Ah! you and Louisa are the magnets for
him. I should'nt wonder if he was intending to
propose for Louisa this evening, and so, as a preparatory,
will tell you who he is. How I wish I
knew!”

In the parlour of the Moreys, though it was
only half-past nine, there reigned the hush of midnight.
The tea-things had long been removed.
The little boys, Richard and Edward, had had
their games and sports, in which Mr. Lassar had
participated, with all the glee of a child; Louisa
had sung and played her father's favourite songs,
and, accompanied by Mr. Lassar's flute, performed
the plaintive airs her mother loved best;—the little
boys had retired; the piano was shut; and gathered
closely around the centre table, the remaining
members of the family group were waiting, in the
hush of mute attention, the expected history of
Mr. Lassar. Hark!—ring! ring!—bustle! bustle!
—Who can it be?—Who but Mr. and Mrs. Danvers.

“You see we are returned to spend the evening
with you, my dear Mrs. Morey,” said the lady, as
she uncloaked, unbonnetted, and threw herself languidly
on the sofa. “I told Mr. Danvers that one
party at a time was as much as my nerves would
bear. Don't let us interrupt you, Mr. Lassar. I
assure you we shall esteem it the greatest of favours
to hear you communication. Mrs. Morey
could not feel more interested in the events of
your life than I do.”

“The events of my life, madam,” said Mr. Lassar,
“have been so varied, that a long story might

be told; but, to gratify you, I will come to the result
at once. Let me just run over the index. At
twenty, I was, by my father's death, and the insolvency
of his estate, thrown on the world—went to
India to seek my fortune—after many hardships,
sufferings and struggles, became interpreter and
factor to a Persian merchant—and finally, at his
death, succeeded to his business and property.”

“But your sister;” said Mrs. Danvers, eagerly.

“All in good time. Mrs. Morey, had you ever
a brother in India?” His voice trembled.

“Yes; Edward—Edward Erskine. What do
you know of him?”

“Isabel, dear Isabel—I am Edward Erskine!”

“They will cut Mrs. A—, that is certain,” said
Mrs. Danvers to her husband.

“They'll cut us, too, my dear.”

“But I am sure I have always esteemed Mrs.
Morey—and how could I know she was Mr. Lassar's
sister?”

“True; how could you know she would ever be
able to give another party? Well, money is much
more fashionable than merit—they will now have
friends enough.”

“And they will live in that splendid house, and
Miss Lamson is to reside with them. How
strangely things happen! It has been a happy
New-Year to the Moreys.”