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Enter Lord Breton.

“Auld Robin Gray cam ‘a courtin’ me.”

Lady Barnard.

Let it be understood by the reader, in justice to Miss Rivers, that, before she despatched the note with which our last chapter closes, she shewed it to her mother. As she had expected, that lady offered some feeble opposition to her daughter’s bold stroke. It was early the next morning & Mrs. Rivers—a nervous invalid, of the complainingly resigned sort—was still in her bedroom, though the younger members of the family, Kate, Julia & Tom, had breakfasted & been called to their lessons, by Miss Blackstone, their governess. Georgie therefore found her mother alone, when she entered with the answer to Lord Breton’s letter in her hand; & it was easy, after one glance at the small figure on the couch, with faded hair, pink lids & yielding wrinkles about the mouth, to see why, though “Mamma would be a little scandalized” it would be easy to “settle that.” If Mrs. Rivers had ever been a beauty much mourning & malady had effaced all traces thereof from her gentle, sallow face framed in a heavy widow’s cap; she was one of those meek, shrinking women who seem always overwhelmed by their clothes, & indeed by circumstances in general. She greeted her daughter’s entrance with a faint smile, & observed in a thin, timid voice “that it was a beautiful morning.” “Yes,” said Georgie, kissing her, “jolly for hunting. How did you sleep, little Mamma?” “Oh, well enough, my dear—as well as I could have hoped,” said Mrs. Rivers, sighing. “Of course Peters forgot my sleeping-draught when he went into West Adamsborough yesterday, but what else could I expect?” “I am very sorry! The man never had his proper allowance of brains.” “Nay, my dear, I do not complain.” “But I do,” said Georgie, impatiently. “I hate to be resigned!” “My child!” “You know I do, Mamma. But I want to speak to you now. Will Payson be coming in for anything?” “Indeed I can’t tell, my dear.” (Mrs. Rivers was never in her life known to express a positive opinion on any subject.) “Very well, then” said Georgie, “I will make sure.” She locked the door, & then came & sat down at her mother’s feet. “Now, Mamma, I am going to shock you,” she said. “Oh, my dear, I hope not.” “But I tell you that I am,” persisted Georgie. “Now listen. I have decided that I shouldn’t be happy with Guy, & I have written to tell him so.” Mrs. Rivers looked startled. “What has happened, my love?” she asked anxiously. “I hope you have not been quarrelling. Guy is a good boy.” “No, we have not been quarrelling—at least, not exactly. But I have thought it all over. Guy & I would never get on. And I am going to accept Lord Breton!” “Good gracious, my dear!” cried Mrs. Rivers, in mingled horror & admiration at her daughter’s sudden decision. “But what will Guy say? … Have you reflected? …” “I have set Guy free; therefore I am at liberty to accept Lord Breton.” “But—so soon? I don’t understand,” said poor Mrs. Rivers, in humble perplexity. “Of course the engagement will not be announced at once; but Lord Breton’s letter requires an answer & I have written it.” She handed the note to her mother, who looked over it with her usual doubtful frown, but whose only comment was a meek suggestion that it was very short. “I can’t write four pages to say I’ll accept him,” said Georgie, sharply; & Mrs. Rivers, reflecting that her unusual crossness was probably due to concealed agitation, only said mildly, “but poor Guy.” “Why do you pity Guy, Mamma? He will be rid of me, & if he is really in love with me—why, men get over those things very quickly.” “But I cannot help thinking, my dear …” “Don’t, Mamma!” cried Georgie, passionately, “don’t think. I have made up my mind, & if you talk all day you can only make me cry.” The last word was almost a sob, & Georgie turned sharply away from her mother. “I am afraid you are unhappy, darling child.” “Why should I be?” burst out Georgie, with sudden fierceness. “Don’t be so foolish Mamma! Why should I be unhappy? It is my own choice, & I don’t want to be pitied!” She ran out of the room as she ended, & Mrs. Rivers’ anxious ears heard her bedroom door slam a moment later. The note was sent duly, that morning; & in the afternoon the various members of the family saw, from their respective windows, Lord Breton of Lowood ride up to the door of Holly Lodge. Georgie, with an unusual colour in her face, which was set off by the drooping ruffle of lace about her soft throat, came in to her mother’s room for a kiss & a word or two. Now that Guy’s ring had really been sent back, she seemed to have nerved herself to go through the day resolutely; & with a quick, firm step, & her head higher than its wont she went downstairs to meet her suitor. Lord Breton was leaning against the mantel-piece where Guy had stood yesterday; & it would have been hard to find a greater contrast to that handsome young gentleman than Georgie’s noble lover. Fifty-eight years of what is commonly called hard living had left heavy traces on what in its day was known as a fine figure; & in the Lord Breton whom some few could remember as “that gay young buck” the present generation saw nothing but a gray gouty old gentleman, who evidently enjoyed his port wine & sherry generously. He came forward as Georgie entered, & bending over her hand (it was not the hand that Guy had kissed) said, pompously: “I need not say how deeply I feel the honour you confer on me, Miss Rivers. This is indeed a happy day!” “Thank you,” said Georgie, with a wild desire to draw her hand away; “you are very kind, Lord Breton.” “No, no,” returned his lordship affably; “I only rejoice in being allowed to call mine a young lady so abundantly endowed with every charm as Miss Rivers—as—May I call you Georgina?” Georgie started; no one had ever called her by her name, preferring the boyish abbreviation which seemed to suit her lively, plump prettiness best; but, after all, it was better he should not call her as Guy did. Georgina was more suitable for the future Lady Breton. “You have won the right to do so,” she said, as she sat down, & Lord Breton took a chair opposite, at an admiring distance. “A most precious right,” he replied, conjuring up the ghost of what some might recall as a fascinating smile; but which was more like a bland leer to the eye unassisted by memory. “Let me assure you,” he continued, “that I know how little a man of my advanced years deserves to claim the attention of a young lady in the lovely bloom of youth; but—ahem—I hope that the name, the title—& above all the respect & esteem which I lay at her feet may compensate—” he paused, & evidently wondered that Georgie did not reply to this sublime condescension; but as she was silent, he was forced to take up the thread of his speech. “As I said in my letter, you will remember, Miss … Ah … Georgina—as I said in my letter, I do not see why difference of age should be an obstacle to a happy union; & as—ahem—& since your views so happily coincide with mine, permit me to—to adorn this lovely hand with—a—with—” here Lord Breton, finding that his eloquence had for the moment run dry, supplied the lack of speech by action, & producing a brilliant ruby set in large diamonds, slipped it on Georgie’s passive hand. “I hope you will accept this, as a slight token of—of …” “It is very beautiful,” said Georgie, colouring with pleasure, as the dark fire of the ruby set off the whiteness of her hand. “You are most generous. But you will forgive me if I do not wear it, at least in public. I should prefer not to have the engagement announced at once.” Lord Breton looked justly astonished, as he might have done if a crossing-sweeper to whom he had tossed a shilling had flung it back in his face. “May I ask why this—this secrecy must be preserved?” he said, in a tone of profound, but suppressed, indignation; remembering, just in time, that though the wife is a legitimate object of wrath, it is wise to restrain one’s self during courtship. “I am going to shew you what a spoiled child I am, by refusing to tell you,” said Georgie, putting on an air of imperious mischievousness to hide her growing agitation, “& I know you will humour me. I am so used to having my own way, that it might be dangerous to deprive me of it!” If she had not said this with a most enchanting smile, naughty & yet appealing, Lord Breton might not have been so easily appeased; but being charmed with this pretty display of wilfulness (as men are apt to be before marriage) & concluding that her mother might have something to do with the obstruction she would not name, he only said, with a bow, “The loss is on my side, however! I shall count the days until I can proclaim to the world what a prize I have won.” Georgie laughed; a sweet, little bird-like laugh, which was as resistless as her pout. “You pay me so many compliments that I shall be more spoiled than ever! But you will not have to wait long, I promise you.” “No waiting can be very long while I am privileged to enjoy your companionship,” said Lord Breton, rising to the moment triumphantly. “Oh, for shame! Worse & worse!” cried Georgie. “But I think Mamma is in the study. Won’t you come in & see her?”

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