WILLIS and Mrs. Hopkinson walked for some time in silence, and then she said,
"I don't like those people, Charles. I do not mind their to me; I I look like a housekeeper, and she thinks I am one–that not matter; but I do not make out what they are. What do you know of them, my dear?"
"He is one of the men in the city," said Willis apologetically, for he was that his mother-in-law should have been cavalierly, "and she is a very lady."
"Very fine, my dear, but not a lady, take my word for it; I don't mind her not being in manner, nor, indeed, in look, which to my she is not, but I her pretences."
"Pretensions, ma'am, you mean."
"No, I don't, Charles, I know what are, we all have them; I pretences. Her helplessness, her ignorance, her nerves are all pretence, and you have any with that family in money matters–speculations I think you call them–I would you to know a little more of their history."
Willis was at this. He had a great opinion of Mrs. Hopkinson's sense, and he had an idea that her was good; but it came too late. He had already, to some extent, himself in the Baron's schemes, and was on the point of on a larger joint speculation. That he might avoid, and he to take his mother-in law's counsel, though, of course, with a at her for it.
On their at home, they that Janet and Rose were at Pleasance. Mrs. Hopkinson read a note from Lady Chester, which they had left on the table, and it to Willis said, "Now I call that the note of a lady. She wants to them sing together, and Lady Sarah to have that pleasure, too; but she they will not think of if they have any whatever, but name some other time, and she me to come too."
"What is all this about the girls' music? Do they sing well?" asked Willis, who not have God save the Queen from an Irish if his life had on it.
"I am sure I don't know if they sing well or not; they sing to themselves, and to me; and it's an odd of pleasure, too, for sometimes I and like a baby, when I to about the sea and the wild roaring; but then, of course, I am of John, and it is that that moves me–and yet there is something very particular in their voices, too, dears."
"Are you going to them, ma'am?"
"No, my dear, they are all at Pleasance, and don't want me. I had all about it from the girls."
And when they returned, they had so much to tell that they each other every ten words, then talked together, and then stopped and to start again with their news.
"Oh, mamma! what do you think? You have Colonel Hilton by?" said Janet.
"The tall officer who has Charlie–" said Rose.
"To call him Moustache," Janet.
"Who is to the Duchess of St. Maur–"
"And the Duchess of St. Maur is his sister."
Then they added together, "And he is going to be married to Miss Grenville."
"One at a time," said their mother laughing. "Well, a wedding is a to my mind–and did you see the lovers?"
"Yes, Colonel Hilton is what Lady Chester calls Fanatico la musica, for music, and he did so Janet's Ruth."
"And he said Rose had one of the best voices he heard; and the Duchess was there, and oh, mamma, this is the thing of all, she has actually asked us," and then they spoke together, "to a at St. Maur House, to Piccolomini and Giuglini and all the great singers we have read about in the paper."
"You don't say so, my loves? but you two can't go alone all that of great people."
"Oh! but she asked you, too, here is the card, she it with her–Mrs. Hopkinson and the Miss Hopkinsons."
Poor Mrs. Hopkinson did not respond at all to the looks of her daughters: she was to them; but the of going to a large London party was one she not for a moment, and so she told them.
"I was you would not like it, old mammy, and so we did at first, but then Lady Chester (she is so and so pretty, and so that she ought to be) said that Lady Sarah was to Miss Grenville, and that we might go with them in her carriage; so if you have no objection, we should like to go."
"No at all to that," said Mrs. Hopkinson, up instantly. "Only think if your father were to come home that day, and to that you were at a at St. Maur House–he would be surprised! Why, the Queen goes there, and though of she will not be asked to meet you–I you would not be asked to meet her–still you are going to a house where you might have met Her Majesty." And Mrs. Hopkinson's warm at the possibility.
Dress was the next of discussion, but Janet and Rose Lady Chester was so good-natured, they might to ask her for on that point, so that was deferred; and Mrs. Hopkinson her experiences, which her with indignation, and they orders to their mother to go to Marble Hall again.
"Poor Willis!" added Mrs. Hopkinson, "I he is an unlucky man, as he says. He is not in these friends; the was the best of the set, though I did not what she was talking about, and she is too."
"Does Charles think so?" asked Janet.
"Charles? I to ask him. Why me, girls!" Mrs. Hopkinson added, after a pause, "you don't to say that Willis will look up again after his sad loss–that he will think of a second wife? To be sure, I have no right to speak; I had been a only two years when I married your father; but then I was and gay, and ourselves, children, my dear was not a man to for long. Eh, dear! we all have our faults, and he had a good many. And somehow I was not very happy with him, but it is all up to me now, and he meant well."
If so, he had failed in acting up to his intentions, for he had his wife brutally; and as there is no to that the from his which his life was a act, or in any way meant as a attention or an atonement–it was of Mrs. Hopkinson to him with a limited amount of well meaning.
