Part 7 (1/2)
_Juliet._ I believe Cecilia is very well. At least she was so when last I saw her, about five weeks since.
_Edward._ Is it five weeks since you have seen Cecilia Selden? You were formerly almost inseparable. I hope there has been no quarrel between you.
_Juliet._ None at all. But--somehow--I am tired of Cecilia Selden. She is certainly a very dull companion.
_Edward._ Dull! You once thought her very amusing. For my part, _I_ always found her so. She has read a great deal, is highly accomplished, and as she travels every summer with her parents, she has had opportunities of seeing a variety of interesting places and people. And above all, she has an excellent natural understanding.
_Juliet._ But she is always so sensible and so correct, and every thing that she says and does is so very proper.
_Edward._ So much the better. You will improve by being intimate with her.
_Juliet._ I never shall be intimate again with Cecilia Selden. She is too particular, too fastidious. She does not like Madeline Malcolm.
_Edward._ And who is Madeline Malcolm? I never heard of her before.
_Juliet._ Her father is our next door neighbour. You know we did not live in this house when you were last in Philadelphia. The very day we moved, Madeline Malcolm came in to see us, in the midst of all our bustle and confusion, and stayed the whole afternoon. She said she had long been desirous of becoming acquainted with me, was delighted that we were now near neighbours, and therefore could not forbear running in to commence the intimacy immediately.
_Edward._ But ”in the midst of all your bustle and confusion,” it must have been very in convenient to receive a visitor, and to entertain her the whole afternoon.
_Juliet._ Why,--we were a little disconcerted at first, but she begged of us not to consider her a stranger. She was just as sociable as if she had known us for seven years; and she was so queer, and there was so much fun in every thing she said and did, that she kept me laughing all the time.
_Edward._ I should like to see this prodigy of fun.
_Juliet._ No doubt you will soon have that pleasure; for she runs in and out, the back way, ten times a-day.
Juliet had scarcely spoken when they heard a voice in the entry, singing ”I'd be a b.u.t.terfly,” and Madeline Malcolm, a tall, black-eyed, red-cheeked girl, with long ringlets of dark hair, came flying into the parlour, exclaiming, ”What, still by fire-light--I shall have to pull your Peter's ears myself, if he does not mind his business and light the astral lamp sooner. O! here he comes. Now, Peter, proceed; and take yourself off as soon as you have accomplished the feat. Well,--now that there is no longer any danger of falling over this young gentleman, I must beg leave to be introduced to him in form. I surmise that he is the most learned Mr. Edward Lansdowne of Na.s.sau-Hall, Princeton. Ah! I have torn my frock on the fender. Just like me, you know.” Juliet immediately introduced her brother. ”Well, Ned,” exclaimed Miss Malcolm, ”you have come to make us happy at last. Your sister has talked so much about you that I have actually been longing for your arrival. Come, tell us the best news at college. I have a cousin there, but he has not been in town since the rebellion before the last. I suppose he goes to New York to take his frolics. Come, tell us all the particulars of your last 'Barring out;' I suppose it was conducted according to the newest fas.h.i.+on. Juliet, did you ever see any thing like Ned's face? A sort of mixed expression; trying to smile and be agreeable, but looking all the time as if he could bar _me_ out himself.”
In this manner she ran on for near half an hour, Juliet laughing heartily, and Edward not at all. At last she rose to go away, and when Juliet invited her to stay all the evening, she said she _must_ go home, for they were to have waffles at tea, and she would not miss them on any consideration. However, the tea-table in Mrs. Lansdowne's parlour being now set, she took a spoonful of honey which she dripped all over the cloth, and then giving Juliet a hearty kiss, she seized Edward's arm saying, ”Come, Ned, escort me home. I am going in at the front-door this time, and there is always ice on our steps, so be sure to take care that I do not fall.”
When Edward took his leave at Madeline's door, she shook hands with him, saying, ”Am I not a wild creature? You see how my spirits run away with me.”
Edward came back with a countenance of almost disgust. ”If this is your new friend,” said he to his sister, ”I must say that I consider her scarcely endurable. Why, she never saw me before this evening, and yet she is as familiar as if she had known me all her life. To think of her calling me Ned.”
”Ah!” said Juliet with a smile, ”I suspect _that_ to be the grand offence, after all. But depend upon it, you will like her better when you know her better.”
”I very much doubt my ever liking her at all,” replied Edward.
Nothing could exceed the sociability of Madeline Malcolm. She breakfasted, dined, and drank tea at Mrs. Lansdowne's table nearly as often as at her father's; and she frequently ran in early in the morning, and scampered into Juliet's chamber before she had risen. Mr.
and Mrs. Lansdowne (both whose dispositions were remarkably amiable and indulgent) did not approve of their daughter's intimacy with Madeline.
They had spoken to her on the subject; but Madeline's frank and caressing manner, and her perpetual good-humour, had so won the heart of Juliet, that it was painful to her to hear a word against her friend, as she called her. So her parents concluded to let it pa.s.s for the present; trusting to Juliet's becoming eventually disgusted by some outrageous folly of Madeline's, who seemed to think her professed volatility an excuse for every thing; and that the appellation of _a wild creature_, which she took pride in giving herself, would screen her from any resentment her unwarrantable conduct might provoke.
Still, as Edward observed, she had a great deal of selfishness and cunning; as is generally the case with wild creatures; for when females have so little of the delicacy of their s.e.x as to throw aside the restraints of propriety, the same want of delicacy makes them totally regardless of the feelings or convenience of others, and renders them callous to every thing like real sympathy or kindness of heart.
At home, Madeline was allowed to do exactly as she pleased; her father's thoughts were perpetually in his counting-house, and her step-mother, who spent all her time in the nursery, was incessantly occupied with the care of a large family of young children, of whom Madeline never took the least account. And she was so much at Mr. Lansdowne's that Juliet had few opportunities of returning her visits.
She borrowed all Juliet's best books, and did not scruple to lend them again to any person that she knew. Some of the books were never returned; and others were brought back soiled, torn, and in a most deplorable condition. One of her jokes was to take up Juliet's muslin-work, and disfigure it with what she called gobble-st.i.tch. She came in one day and found the parlour unoccupied, and Juliet's drawing-box on the table, with a beautiful landscape nearly finished.
Madeline sat down and daubed at it till it was quite spoiled, and when Juliet discovered her at this employment, she turned it off with a laugh, insisting that she had greatly improved the picture. She found Juliet one evening engaged in copying a very scarce and beautiful song, which she had borrowed from her music-master, and which had never been published in America. On Juliet's being called up stairs for a few moments to her mother, Madeline took the pen, and scribbled on the margin of the borrowed music, some nonsensical verses of her own composition, in ridicule of the music-master.
Edward presented his sister at Christmas with a set of a new English magazine, which contained biographical sketches and finely engraved portraits of some of the most celebrated female authors. Madeline came in soon after the arrival of the books; and having looked them over, she insisted on carrying one of the volumes home with her. Next day she brought it back, with a pair of spectacles drawn with a pen and ink round the eyes of each of the portraits that, as she said, ”The learned ladies might look still wiser.” Upon this Edward immediately left the room, lest his indignation should induce him to say too much, and Juliet could not help warmly expressing her dissatisfaction. But Madeline pacified her by hanging round her neck and pleading that her love of fun was constantly leading her to do mischievous things; and that she was sure her darling Juliet loved her too well not to forgive her.