Part 34 (2/2)
”Do you like Mr. Helmer, ma'am?” asked Mary one morning, as she was brus.h.i.+ng her hair.
”Very well. How do you know anything of him?”
”Not many people within ten miles of Testbridge do not know Mr.
Helmer,” answered Mary.
”Yes, yes, I remember,” said Hesper. ”He used to ride about on a long-legged horse, and talked to anybody that would listen to him. But there was always something pleasing about him, and he is much improved.
Do you know, he is considered really very clever?”
”I am not surprised,” rejoined Mary. ”He used to be rather foolish, and that is a sign of cleverness--at least, many clever people are foolish, I think.”
”You can't have had much opportunity for making the observation, Mary!”
”Clever people think as much of themselves in the country as they do in London, and that is what makes them foolish,” returned Mary. ”But I used to think Mr. Helmer had very good points, and was worth doing something for--if one only knew what.”
”He does not seem to want anything done for him,” said Hesper.
”I know one thing _you_ could do for him, and it would be no trouble,”
said Mary.
”I will do anything for anybody that is no trouble,” answered Hesper.
”I should like to know something that is no trouble.”
”It is only, the next time you ask him, to ask his wife,” said Mary.
”He is married, then?” returned Hesper with indifference. ”Is the woman presentable? Some shopkeeper's daughter, I suppose!”
Mary laughed. ”You don't imagine the son of a lawyer would be likely to marry a shopkeeper's daughter!” she said.
”Why not?” returned Hesper, with a look of non-intelligence.
”Because a professional man is so far above a tradesman.”
”Oh!” said Hesper. ”--But he should have told me if he wanted to bring his wife with him. I don't care who she is, so long as she dresses decently and holds her tongue. What are you laughing at, Mary?”
Hesper called it laughing, but Mary was only smiling.
”I can't help being amused,” answered Mary, ”that you should think it such an out-of-the-way thing to be a shopkeeper's daughter, and here am I all the time, feeling quite comfortable, and proud of the shopkeeper whose daughter I am.”
”Oh! I beg your pardon,” exclaimed Hesper, growing hot for, I almost believe, the first time in her life, and therein, I fear, showing a drop of bad blood from somewhere, probably her father's side of the creation; for not even the sense of having hurt the feelings of an inferior can make the thoroughbred woman of the world aware of the least discomfort; and here was Hesper, not only feeling like a woman of G.o.d's making, but actually showing it!--”How cruel of me!” she went on.
”But, you see, I never think of you--when I am talking to you--as--as one of that cla.s.s!”
Mary laughed outright this time: she was amused, and thought it better to show it, for that would show also she was not hurt. Hesper, however, put it down to insensibility.
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