Bazalgette, in a sharp
whisper, so admirably projected that it was intelligible only to the
ear it was meant for.
Lucy caught it and stopped short, and sat looking by main force calm
and dignified, but scarlet, and in secret agony. "I have said
something amiss," thought Lucy, and was truly wretched.
"We don't believe in Mrs. Wilson's affection on this side the table,"
said Mr. Hardie; "but her revelations interest us, for they prove that
Miss Fountain had a beginning. Now we had thought she rose from the
foam like Venus, or sprung from Jove's brow like Minerva, or descended
from some ancient pedestal, flawless as the Parian itself."
"What, sir," cried Bazalgette, furiously, "did you think our niece was
built in a day? So fair a structure, so accomplished a--"
"Will you be quiet, good people?" said Mrs. Bazalgette. "She was born,
she was bred, she was brought up, in which I had a share, and she is a
very good girl, if you gentlemen will be so good as not to spoil her
for me with your flattery."
"There!" said Lucy, courageously, enforcing her aunt's thunderbolt;
and she leaned toward Mrs. Bazalgette, and shot back a glance of
defiance, with arching neck, at Mr. Bazalgette.
After breakfast she ran to Mrs. Bazalgette. "What was it?"
"Oh, nothing; only the gentlemen were beginning to grin."
"Oh, dear! did I say anything--ridiculous?"
"No, because I stopped you in time. Mind, Lucy, it is never safe to
read letters out from people in that class of life; they talk about
everything, and use words that are quite out of date.
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