THERE was to be a at Dulham. This is a modern innovation, which may be of a amount of happiness, and is, at all events, well on the part of those who the tea and the buns, and the and the vans; but there is always something suspicious, to my mind, in the little which are up by the tea at the whole day, to say nothing of their being unmusical. It may not be so, but sometimes it as if the five or six in black and the ladies in black who the order the as well as the cheer; and that the are de commande. However, this is being hypercritical. The Dulham children were not to be to a tea in procession. Mr. Greydon had asked for the use of the Pleasance lawn and garden, which was by its inhabitants, who in the and of merriment. They had no anti-hurrah feelings. Aunt Sarah came out on these occasions; she told little to the children, which them laugh; she a of toys and sweetmeats, which were in the most places, in thick shrubs, in full of leaves, in Charlie's cot, and one great prize was in Aunt Sarah's case. Mrs. Hopkinson, who she would not be out of place on this occasion, was invaluable; she had most of the children from the day of their birth, and had an knowledge of their and their tempers, and their and bonnets, and their little and sisters, that them familiar with her, and she not walk across the lawn without a dozen to her skirts. Some of the ladies of the came in the of school-teachers, and Mr. Greydon, who of his assistants, was frisky; and kites, and and in slices of thickness–Janet that no had been so well divided.
Even Mlle. Justine was condescending; she this fête du village très-intéressante, and her hands from her pockets, to in tea making; and Baxter to one of the benches that had been sent up from the across the lawn. While the were at their height, they were by the of the Lord Mayor's up the River, flying, playing, &c., &c. Either from the of the of children at Pleasance, or from the natural to in the which is the of boats, it came to, just opposite the house. The children assembled on the bank, and it with cheers, and Rose and Janet, to prevent them from into the river in a mass, were met by the of Willis moving and sadly through the of a quadrille. They were with astonishment. If the had them a low bow, or if the great at St. Paul's had a in good English, it would not have more than Willis dancing with a looking girl in the smallest of and the of gowns.
"Grey too, and no on his hat," said Rose; "he must be very near a proposal."
They their mother to see this sight; and when Willis came to a of the rond, and was making a to Miss Monteneros, he himself by his mother- and sisters-in-law, and that the power of his gloom, the of his misery, had passed away for ever: he not from that last chassé, as it was performed, into the bowed-down mourner.
Surprise had been on shore, but there was equal on board. The Baroness who was doing the patroness, full of majesty, and also doing Cleopatra, the Nile, herself from a very attitude, and, to Willis, said, in an voice, "Who is that on Mrs. Hopkinson's arm?"
"Lady Sarah Mortimer, ma'am."
"And the chairs to your sisters-in-law–two indeed?"
"One is Colonel Hilton, who is to Miss Grenville, and the other is, I think, her brother."
"Well, upon my word, they are free and easy ladies, talking and laughing with those men as though they had them all their lives. This has been a great for them," said the Baroness spitefully. "I believe, in these days, a little attention to the is not a speculation." The Sampsons were always speculating.
"The Miss Hopkinsons are a great at Pleasance," Willis said stiffly; "Lady Chester is them."
"Dear me! I wish I had that sooner," said the Baroness; "I had no idea that they were at all in our set, or I would have phrased a little note I sent to them this differently."
She had actually written, in a fit of superb impertinence, to say that she had a déjeuner on the 16th, and that if Mrs. and the Miss Hopkinsons liked to see it, they would have a good view of the company from some of the upper windows.
"Do, my dear Willis, to them that I had no idea that they would like to join in my little fête, but that I shall be happy to see them as guests. It will be very if Lady Chester and I, us, these girls into society; so mention that I will them as guests; in fact, I will send them a regular card." She to think that after that life had no to for.
"You can do as you like," said Willis stiffly; the Sampsons were hourly in his estimation; "but I know they cannot come on the 16th. They are going to a at the Duchess of St. Maur's."
"At St. Maur house? a of course; I am sorry now I my fête for the 16th. I should have been happy to have taken tickets, and I shall if my réunion should with the Duchess's intentions. It was very of me to take her day. I am sure it is very of her to St. Maur House; I can't think how it is that she and I have visited, but we have not. I should have liked this opportunity of taking your sisters, Willis, if I had been going."
Willis was clear-sighted to what Mrs. Hopkinson called the Sampson pretences, and as much as it was in his nature to in them.
"Lady Sarah Mortimer takes them; and it is not a concert, only one of the Duchess's fêtes; at three, I think the card said."
A card! a private party! Lady Sarah for a chaperone! the Baroness was by and at her of the Hopkinsons. Rachel looked amused, and, through her the groups on the lawn, that their to be going off successfully. This Baroness Sampson to a of her duties. Various men were with to the red-coated bargemen, and the was to move slowly on, the of playing Partant la Syrie, a point of the the Lord Mayor's was most to reach.
"Now, Aunt," said Blanche, who had with Lady Sarah to her own room, "don't you think I am very well, and that I am in of self-command? You have not any of fretting, and yet I am very unhappy. Arthur did not kindly, did he?"
"He under a misapprehension, by his father's letter; and twenty-four hours later when he would have the news of Aileen's engagement, he would be much more than you are, my love, that he had been to you. But I will own that you have this wonderfully, and that my Blanche has in the art of self-control. And I have been thinking, my child, that you may soon see good come out of evil. Arthur will be so of your fretting, and so of his pettishness, that I should not be at all if he set off to come home."
"Oh, Aunt Sarah! do you think so? but then that Mr. Armistead–who is a very man, and not about his wife–will let Arthur off from that to Prague, now that he has him promise to go. He will think it great fun to part Arthur and me, he and his wife cannot agree."
"I have the Armisteads for some years," said Aunt Sarah quietly. "Some people think him too evangelical, but that is no of ours; he a great of good in a way, and he makes his little wife, who has no in her, very happy. She told me the other day, with in her eyes, that she what was till she married Mr. Armistead. You know what her own home was. And so as I was saying," the old lady without her from her netting, "I that in a very time we shall have Arthur here–perhaps to-morrow."
'Oh, Aunt Sarah!" said Blanche, her arms her Aunt's neck, "you know more than you tell me; you have from Arthur, you are sure he is coming; he is here," and she started up as if to go and meet him.
"My dear, dear child," said Lady Sarah, taking her by the arm, "will you be a little more reasonable, and above all, will you on the sofa? I have not from Arthur; but just I came here, Mrs. Armistead came into my room, and said she was with Lord Chester, who had dear Armistead give up his Prague journey, and that they were home together directly. That little to be in that her plan of going alone to Brighton was at an end; but as she danced, and laughed, and sang of French songs, and was overflowing with spirits, I that she is not sorry to have her husband at home again. I did not to tell you this, that you would learn it from Arthur's to-morrow, but now you know all that I know. Of Mrs. Armistead had to look at the date of her letter."
"Oh! mind dates. Now I am happy. They will be here soon–soon is a word, and as for Arthur's letter, I I ought to be by his jealousy, but I to be very at first, Aunt."
"Very well, my dear; we shall see."
"I must, upon principle. It would do to let Arthur into a of mistrust–and to think of his saying he was going to Prague, when he meant it!"
"That may pair off with yours to Berlin, dear. But now to that song. How well those girls manage their voices."
The children were all at tea, too much with and to make any noise, and Mr. Greydon, who by the day's work, to Janet that it would be a good opportunity to give him the the Duchess had promised him of her sing. If he had to her to a steeple-chase, she would have it, so she and Rose performed an echo song, the one sister herself, and from a distance, the clear notes of the other–the was perfect. Even Colonel Hilton and Aileen, who had from the school-child world to a in which they might talk to each other of each other, their seclusion, and to the window in which Blanche's sofa was placed.
The long were to the lawn, the still river, "one of gold" with the that by and the that their at the of the music from the garden. The air, rich with the perfume of the magnolias, over all this beauty. It was a that might have a of Timon. Even the refrained, for the time, from the of which to be their idea of common conversation, and if they at all, and benevolently. Aunt Sarah actually her netting, and as the last notes of the song died away, Blanche a long and said, "That is too beautiful–I only wish Arthur it."
"He has it," said a voice at the door, and Blanche, round, saw her realized. There was a and a scream, and a of endearments, with "darlings" and "dearests" intermixed; and as Aunt Sarah fled, her in the retreat, she was by no that Arthur's would be visited with any amount of coldness.
