May they be
reckoned to her credit hereafter--those long hours, when she sat sleepy,
weary, uncomplaining, with an aching head but a stereotyped smile.
Let us speak gently of these maternal martyrs, manoeuvring though they
be. If they have erred, they have suffered. I knew once a lady with a
lot of six, nubile, but not attractive, all with a decided bias toward
Terpsichore and Hymen. Fancy what she must have endured, with those
plain young women round her, always clamoring for partners, temporary or
permanent, like fledglings in a nest for food. Clever and unscrupulous
as she was--they called her the "judicious Hooker"--she must have been
conscious of her utter inability to satisfy them. She knew, too, that
if, by any dispensation, one were removed, five daughters of the
horse-leech would still remain, with ravenous appetites unappeased. Yet
the poor old bird was cheerful, and sometimes, after supper, would chirp
quite merrily. _Honneur au courage malheureux._ Let us stand aside in
the cloak-room, and salute her as she passes out with all the honors of
war.
Mrs. Bellasys was a little woman, who always reminded me of a certain
tropical monkey--name unknown. She wore her hair bushily on each side of
her small face, just like the said intelligent animal, and had the same
eager, rather frightened way of glancing out of her beady black eyes,
accompanied by a quick turning of the head when addressed.
Pages:
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101