Mrs. Harley Baker, I know,
never goes to church without John behind to carry her prayer-book; nor
will Miss Welbeck, her sister, walk twenty yards a-shopping without the
protection of Figby, her sugar-loaf page; though the old lady is as ugly
as any woman in the parish and as tall and whiskery as a grenadier.
The astonishment is, how Emily Harley Baker could have stooped to marry
Raymond Gray. She, who was the prettiest and proudest of the family;
she, who refused Sir Cockle Byles, of the Bengal Service; she, who
turned up her little nose at Essex Temple, Q.C., and connected with
the noble house of Albyn; she, who had but 4,000L. POUR TOUT POTAGE,
to marry a man who had scarcely as much more. A scream of wrath and
indignation was uttered by the whole family when they heard of this
MESALLIANCE. Mrs. Harley Baker never speaks of her daughter now but
with tears in her eyes, and as a ruined creature. Miss Welbeck says, 'I
consider that man a villain;' and has denounced poor good-natured Mrs.
Perkins as a swindler, at whose ball the young people met for the first
time.
Mr. and Mrs. Gray, meanwhile, live in Gray's Inn Lane aforesaid, with
a maid-servant and a nurse, whose hands are very full, and in a most
provoking and unnatural state of happiness. They have never once thought
of crying about their dinner, like the wretchedly puling and Snobbish
womankind of my favourite Snob Aubrey, of 'Ten Thousand a Year;' but,
on the contrary, accept such humble victuals as fate awards them with a
most perfect and thankful good grace--nay, actually have a portion for a
hungry friend at times--as the present writer can gratefully testify.
Pages:
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193