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Authors: Wilkie Collins
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surely be
now and then too flurried and confused to distinguish between the
different processes that she is carrying on at the same time.
Starting from this point of view, it will always remain my private
persuasion that Nature was absorbed in making cabbages when Mrs.
Vesey was born, and that the good lady suffered the consequences
of a vegetable preoccupation in the mind of the Mother of us all.
"Now, Mrs. Vesey," said Miss Halcombe, looking brighter, sharper,
and readier than ever, by contrast with the undemonstrative old
lady at her side, "what will you have? A cutlet?"
Mrs. Vesey crossed her dimpled hands on the edge of the table,
smiled placidly, and said, "Yes, dear."
"What is that opposite Mr. Hartright? Boiled chicken, is it not? I
thought you liked boiled chicken better than cutlet, Mrs. Vesey?"
Mrs. Vesey took her dimpled hands off the edge of the table and
crossed them on her lap instead; nodded contemplatively at the
boiled chicken, and said, "Yes, dear."
"Well, but which will you have, to-day? Shall Mr. Hartright give
you some chicken? or shall I give you some cutlet?"
Mrs. Vesey put one of her dimpled hands back again on the edge of
the table; hesitated drowsily, and said, "Which you please, dear."
"Mercy on me! it's a question for your taste, my good lady, not
for mine. Suppose you have a little of both? and suppose you
begin with the chicken, because Mr. Hartright looks devoured by
anxiety to carve for you."
Mrs. Vesey put the other dimpled hand back on the edge of the
table; brightened dimly one moment; went out again the next; bowed
obediently, and said, "If you please, sir."
Surely a mild, a compliant, an unutterably tranquil and harmless
old lady! But enough, perhaps, for the present, of Mrs. Vesey.
All this time, there were no signs of Miss Fairlie. We finished
our luncheon; and still she never appeared. Miss Halcombe, whose
quick eye nothing escaped, noticed the looks that I cast, from
time to time, in the direction of the door.
"I understand you, Mr. Hartright," she said; "you are wondering
what has become of your other pupil. She has been downstairs, and
has got over her headache; but has not sufficiently recovered her
appetite to join us at lunch. If you will put yourself under my
charge, I think I can undertake to find her somewhere in the
garden."
She took up a parasol lying on a chair near her, and led the way
out, by a long window at the bottom of the room, which opened on
to the lawn. It is almost unnecessary to say that we left Mrs.
Vesey still seated at the table, with her dimpled hands still
crossed on the edge of it; apparently settled in that position for
the rest of the afternoon.
As we crossed the lawn, Miss Halcombe looked at me significantly,
and shook her head.
"That mysterious adventure of yours," she said, "still remains
involved in its own appropriate midnight darkness. I have been
all the morning looking over my mother's letters, and I have made
no discoveries yet. However, don't despair, Mr. Hartright. This
is a matter of curiosity; and you have got a woman for your ally.
Under such conditions success is certain, sooner or later. The
letters are not exhausted. I have three packets still left, and
you may confidently rely on my spending the whole evening over
them."
Here, then, was one of my anticipations of the morning still
unfulfilled. I began to wonder, next, whether my introduction to
Miss Fairlie would disappoint the expectations that I had been
forming of her since breakfast-time.
"And how did you get on with Mr. Fairlie?" inquired Miss Halcombe,
as we left the lawn and turned into a shrubbery. "Was he
particularly nervous this morning? Never mind considering about
your answer, Mr. Hartright. The mere fact of your being obliged
to consider is enough for me. I see in your face that he WAS
particularly nervous; and, as I am amiably unwilling to throw you
into the same condition, I ask no more."
We turned off into a winding path while she was speaking,
now and then too flurried and confused to distinguish between the
different processes that she is carrying on at the same time.
Starting from this point of view, it will always remain my private
persuasion that Nature was absorbed in making cabbages when Mrs.
Vesey was born, and that the good lady suffered the consequences
of a vegetable preoccupation in the mind of the Mother of us all.
"Now, Mrs. Vesey," said Miss Halcombe, looking brighter, sharper,
and readier than ever, by contrast with the undemonstrative old
lady at her side, "what will you have? A cutlet?"
Mrs. Vesey crossed her dimpled hands on the edge of the table,
smiled placidly, and said, "Yes, dear."
"What is that opposite Mr. Hartright? Boiled chicken, is it not? I
thought you liked boiled chicken better than cutlet, Mrs. Vesey?"
Mrs. Vesey took her dimpled hands off the edge of the table and
crossed them on her lap instead; nodded contemplatively at the
boiled chicken, and said, "Yes, dear."
"Well, but which will you have, to-day? Shall Mr. Hartright give
you some chicken? or shall I give you some cutlet?"
Mrs. Vesey put one of her dimpled hands back again on the edge of
the table; hesitated drowsily, and said, "Which you please, dear."
"Mercy on me! it's a question for your taste, my good lady, not
for mine. Suppose you have a little of both? and suppose you
begin with the chicken, because Mr. Hartright looks devoured by
anxiety to carve for you."
Mrs. Vesey put the other dimpled hand back on the edge of the
table; brightened dimly one moment; went out again the next; bowed
obediently, and said, "If you please, sir."
Surely a mild, a compliant, an unutterably tranquil and harmless
old lady! But enough, perhaps, for the present, of Mrs. Vesey.
All this time, there were no signs of Miss Fairlie. We finished
our luncheon; and still she never appeared. Miss Halcombe, whose
quick eye nothing escaped, noticed the looks that I cast, from
time to time, in the direction of the door.
"I understand you, Mr. Hartright," she said; "you are wondering
what has become of your other pupil. She has been downstairs, and
has got over her headache; but has not sufficiently recovered her
appetite to join us at lunch. If you will put yourself under my
charge, I think I can undertake to find her somewhere in the
garden."
She took up a parasol lying on a chair near her, and led the way
out, by a long window at the bottom of the room, which opened on
to the lawn. It is almost unnecessary to say that we left Mrs.
Vesey still seated at the table, with her dimpled hands still
crossed on the edge of it; apparently settled in that position for
the rest of the afternoon.
As we crossed the lawn, Miss Halcombe looked at me significantly,
and shook her head.
"That mysterious adventure of yours," she said, "still remains
involved in its own appropriate midnight darkness. I have been
all the morning looking over my mother's letters, and I have made
no discoveries yet. However, don't despair, Mr. Hartright. This
is a matter of curiosity; and you have got a woman for your ally.
Under such conditions success is certain, sooner or later. The
letters are not exhausted. I have three packets still left, and
you may confidently rely on my spending the whole evening over
them."
Here, then, was one of my anticipations of the morning still
unfulfilled. I began to wonder, next, whether my introduction to
Miss Fairlie would disappoint the expectations that I had been
forming of her since breakfast-time.
"And how did you get on with Mr. Fairlie?" inquired Miss Halcombe,
as we left the lawn and turned into a shrubbery. "Was he
particularly nervous this morning? Never mind considering about
your answer, Mr. Hartright. The mere fact of your being obliged
to consider is enough for me. I see in your face that he WAS
particularly nervous; and, as I am amiably unwilling to throw you
into the same condition, I ask no more."
We turned off into a winding path while she was speaking,
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