Part 42 (2/2)
said Mr. Hardie. He smiled, well pleased, and looked handsomer than ever.
They all missed him more or less, but n.o.body more than Lucy. His conversation had a peculiar charm for her. His knowledge of current events was unparalleled; then there was a quiet potency in him she thought very becoming in a man; and then his manner. He was the first of our unfortunate s.e.x who had reached beau ideal. One was harsh, another finicking; a third loud; a fourth enthusiastic; a fifth timid; and all failed in tact except Mr. Hardie. Then, other male voices were imperfect; they were too insignificant or too startling, too ba.s.s or too treble, too something or too other. Mr. Hardie's was a mellow tenor, always modulated to the exact tone of good society. Like herself, too, he never laughed loud, seldom out; and even his smiles, like her own, did not come in unmeaning profusion, so they told when they did come.
The Bazalgettes led a very quiet life for the next fortnight, for Mrs.
Bazalgette was husbanding invitations for Mr. Hardie's return.
Mrs. Bazalgette yawned many times during this barren period, but with considerate benevolence she s.h.i.+elded Lucy from _ennui._ Lucy was a dressmaker, gifted, but inexperienced; well, then, she would supply the latter deficiency by giving her an infinite variety of alterations to make in a mult.i.tude of garments. There are egotists who charge for tuition, but she would teach her dear niece gratis. A mountain of dresses rose in the drawing-room, a dozen metamorphoses were put in hand, and a score more projected.
”She pulled down, she built up, she rounded the angular, and squared the round.” And here Mr. Bazalgette took perverse views and misbehaved. He was a very honest man, but not a refined courtier. He seldom interfered with these ladies, one way or other, except to provide funds, which interference was never snubbed; for was he not master of the house in that sense? But, having observed what was going on day after day in the drawing-room or workshop, he walked in and behaved himself like a brute.
”How much a week does she give you, Lucy?” said he, looking a little red.
Lucy opened her eyes in utter astonishment, and said nothing; her very needle and breath were suspended.
Mrs. Bazalgette shrugged her shoulders to Lucy, but disdained words.
Mr. Bazalgette turned to his wife.
”I have often recommended economy to you, Jane, I need not say with what success; but this sort of economy is not for your credit or mine.
If you want to add a dressmaker to your staff--with all my heart. Send for one when you like, and keep her to all eternity. But this young lady is our ward, and I will not have her made a servant of for your convenience.”
”Put your work down, dear,” said Mrs. Bazalgette resignedly. ”He does not understand our affection, nor anything else except pounds, s.h.i.+llings and pence.”
”Oh, yes I do. I can see through varnished selfishness for one thing.”
”You certainly ought to be a judge of the unvarnished article,”
retorted the lady.
”Having had it constantly under my eyes these twenty years,” rejoined the gentleman.
”Oh, aunt! Oh, Mr. Bazalgette!” cried Lucy, rising and clasping her hands; if you really love me, never let me be the cause of a misunderstanding, or an angry word between those I esteem; it would make me too miserable; and, dear Mr. Bazalgette, you must let people be happy in their own way, or you will be sure to make them unhappy.
My aunt and I understand one another better than you do.”
”She understands you, my poor girl.”
”Not so well as I do her. But she knows I hate to be idle, and love to do these bagatelles for her. It is my doing from the first, not hers; she did not even know I could do it till I produced two dresses for the Hunts' ball. So, you see--”
”That is another matter; all ladies play at work. But you are in for _three months' hard labor._ Look at that heap of vanity. She is making a lady's-maid of you. It is unjust. It is selfish. It is improper. It is not for my credit, of which I am more jealous than coquettes are of theirs; besides, Lucy, you must not think, because I don't make a parade as she does, that I am not fond of you. I have a great deal more real affection for you than she has, and so you will find if we are ever put to the test.”
At this last absurdity Mrs. Bazalgette burst out laughing. But ”la rusee sans le savoir” turned toward the speaker, and saw that he spoke with a certain emotion which was not ordinary in him. She instantly went to him with both hands gracefully extended. ”I do think you have an affection for me. If you really have, show it me _some other way,_ and not by making me unhappy.”
”Well, then, I will, Lucy. Look here; if Solomon was such a fool as to argue with one of you young geese you would shut his mouth in a minute. There, I am going; but you will always be the slave of one selfish person or other; you were born for it.”
Thus impotently growling, the merchant prince retired from the field, escorted with amenity by the courtier. In the pa.s.sage she suddenly dropped forward like a cypress-tree, and gave him her forehead to kiss. He kissed it with some little warmth, and confided to her, in friendly accents, that she was a fool, and off he went, grumbling inarticulately, to his foreign loans and things.
The courtier returned to smooth her aunt in turn, but that lady stopped her with a lofty gesture.
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