University of Virginia Library

12. CHAP. XII.
THE MAN OF THE WORLD.

During the time that intervened between the
death of Lady Mary and her interment, Sir
George, though he frequently thought of Rebecca,

made no attempt to see her, but satisfied himself with
sending every day to inquire after her health.

“It is certainly a very improper time,” said he, “to
think of entertaining her on the subject of love. Her
heart is at present over charged with sorrow; besides
I should prove myself highly unworthy of her esteem,
could I, at this melancholy period, think seriously on
any thing but the mournful cause of our meeting.”

The morning after the last solemn ceremony was
performed, Sir George, sitting at breakfast with his
brother and sister, mentioned that, in respect to his
mother's memory, he should remain at Twickenham a
couple of months, and see no company, but one or
two select friends: he then invited Lord and Lady
Ossiter to remain with him during that period, and
proposed sending immediately for the children.

“You'll pardon me, brother,” said her Ladyship;
“I cannot think of remaining any longer in this melancholy
place than till to-morrow, and I must say you
are much to blame, in resolving to bury yourself from
the world: I am sure it is a step which cannot be expected
from so young a man.”

“You are to act as you please, sister, and, I hope,
you will permit me to do the same.”

“Oh! apropos, you know the young woman, Rebecca—what's
her name? I never can remember it.
She that my mother kept with her as a kind of companion.”

“I have seen her,” said Sir George, “and cannot
say but I am surprised my mother made no mention of
her in her will; but, I suppose, she desired you to
make some provision for her.”

“Yes, she did mention her to me, and I have taken
her into my protection.”

Here Lord Ossiter, who had been carelessly looking
over the news-paper, laid it down.

“So then,” said he, with an air of curiosity, “your
Ladyship has taken her as a companion; but, pray,
if that is the case, why is she not at the breakfast table,
to save you the trouble of making the tea?”

“Oh! you labour under a vast mistake, my Lord;

no humble toad-eater will ever make a part of my household.
I assure you, I detest the whole class of them;
they are in general a set of forward, impertinent creatures,
made up of pride and idleness: I keep nobody
about me but can render themselves useful; and I know
of no use your cringing companions are but to criticise
their Lady's actions, and contribute to their Lord's
amusement.”

His Lordship looked disappointed, and reassumed
the news-paper.

Sir George was perfectly astonished at his sister's illbred
expressions; but willing to know in what manner
Rebecca was provided for, simply asked the question.

“Why, I have taken her into the nursery to teach
the children to read.”

“I approve the plan vastly,” said Lord Ossiter,
again laying down the paper: “I think the children
wanted a governess.”

“Not so fast, my Lord: I have as great a dislike
to governesses as to companions. I hate the whole class
of your second-hand gentry. Rebecca will hear them
read—dress and undress Miss Ossiter—make her frocks
—and upon occasion, assist my woman.”

Sir George felt his cheeks glow with indignation.
“I think, sister,” said he, “considering the place she
held in our mother's esteem, the situation you mean to
give her is not paying that dear woman's memory a
proper respect; besides, I do not think it probable,
after having been treated as the companion of Lady
Mary, Miss Littleton will feel herself satisfied with
being only the servant of her daughter.”

“Don't make yourself uneasy about that, George;
I have talked with her, and agreed about terms; however,
if you choose to retain her here as house-keeper
extraordinary,” attempting an arch look,—

“To cheer the solitary days of mourning,” added
his Lordship.

Sir George darted at them both a look of the utmost
contempt. “Your inuendos,” said he, “are as cruel
as they are groundless: however, Lady Ossiter, you
will please to know, that no person, who has been honoured

by the friendship of my mother, shall be treated
with disrespect, when I have the power to prevent it.
If Miss Littleton is not satisfied with her situation, I
shall think it my duty to place her above it.”

“I will send for her here, and you may ask her,”
said her Ladyship.

“Aye, that is the best way,” said Lord Ossiter,
ringing the bell; for from Sir George's evident agitation,
he imagined there must be something extraordinary
about Rebecca, and earnestly wished to see her.

“Tell Rebecca I want her,” said the Lady to the
servant who entered the room.

“For heaven's sake, Lady Ossiter,” said Sir George,
“do not shock the poor girl's feelings, by sending for
her here.”

“Oh! Lord, she must get the better of those feelings
you talk about, or she will never be good for
much; besides, it always diverts me to see her blush,
and look like a fool.”

“Rebecca Littleton can never look like a fool, Madam,”
cried Sir George, with vehemence, “and since
you persist in sending for her, you will excuse me if I
do not stay to see Lady Ossiter render herself ridiculous,
by insulting a woman every way her superior, but in
the paltry distinction of fortune.”

He then left the room, shutting the door after him
with violence, and in a few moments Rebecca entered.

How great was the surprise of Lord Ossiter when he
beheld the strikingly beautiful figure that presented itself
to his view! Modesty had recalled to her cheeks
the rosy hue which grief had chaced from them. Her
fine eyes were timidly raised from the ground to her
Lady's face, while, with a gentle inclination of the
body, and a voice of softest harmony, she requested to
know her commands.

“Nothing particular, child; only I was montioning
to my brother the situation I had offered you in my
family, and he thinks you will not be satisfied with it.”

“Indeed, Madam, I am greatly obliged to Sir
George for his solicitude, but must request your Ladyship
to inform him that while I can be so fortunate as

to obtain your approbation, I shall never be otherwise
than happy, and shall deem myself highly honoured by
your protection as long as your Ladyship shall think
fit to extend it towards me.”

“Perhaps you would like to tell him so yourself,
child?”

“By no means, Madam.”

“But you are quite satisfied, Rebecca?”

“Intirely so, my Lady, and that satisfaction will
ever remain uninterrupted, while I am conscious of
performing my duty.”

“Well, that's all,” cried her Ladyship, in a half
peevish accent.

Rebecca courtseyed, and retired.

“Well, and what do you think of her, my Lord,”
cried the Lady, turning to her husband; “why you
seem in amaze!”

“I am perfectly so, my dear (endeavouring to recollect
himself;) but it is because I can't, for my soul,
conceive what George can see in this girl to make such
a fuss about her.”

“Why, don't you think her handsome?”

“No woman appears so in my eyes when your Ladyship
is by.”

“Oh! you're vastly civil this morning; but, pray
what fault have you to find with her person?”

“Nay, nothing particular; but I think she is altogether
insipid.”

“She is very fair.”

“Yes, but I was never struck with your very fair
women; they have not half the expression of your fine
brunettes.”

Lady Ossiter was a very dark woman, and could not
help at that moment going to the glass to adjust her
handkerchief.

“She has very fine eyes, my Lord.”

“Fine eyes, oh! ridiculous; you may as well admire
the blue glass beads stuck in the head of a wax
doll. I don't see any thing about her even tolerably
pretty but her neck and shoulders; they seem shaped
well enough.”

“This horrid mourning makes one look like a fright,”
cried the Lady, still looking in the glass, “and they
have made my gown so abominably high, I declare I
appear quite round shouldered; it shall positively be
altered before I wear it again.”

“Not if I might advise, my dear; for I declare I
never saw you look better than you do this morning;
and, in my opinion, women inclined to em bon point
have more dignity in their persons than the very slender;
for instance, now your Rebecca; she will always
remind me of Death and Daphne.”

“Dear, my Lord, when have I seen you in so agreeable
a humour? I declare you are quite witty.”

“How can I be otherwise, my Lady, when I have
so good a subject for ridicule?”

Her Ladyship did not take the keenness of the sarcasm,
and retired, to give some orders to her woman,
perfectly satisfied that Rebecca was infinitely inferior to
herself in personal attractions; while her artful husband
applauded himself for the part he had acted, which he
naturally imagined would secure, within the reach of
his power, a woman whose charms had made such an
impression on his mind, that he was resolved, if possible,
to sacrifice her a victim to seduction.