Mrs. Kirkpatrick was only too happy to accept Lady Cumnor's

invitation. It was what she had been hoping for, but hardly daring to

expect, as she believed that the family were settled in London for

some time to come. The Towers was a pleasant and luxurious house in

which to pass her holidays; and though she was not one to make deep

plans, or to look far ahead, she was quite aware of the prestige

which her being able to say she had been staying with "dear Lady

Cumnor" at the Towers, was likely to give her and her school in

the eyes of a good many people; so she gladly prepared to join her

ladyship on the 17th. Her wardrobe did not require much arrangement;

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if it had done, the poor lady would not have had much money to

appropriate to the purpose. She was very pretty and graceful; and

that goes a great way towards carrying off shabby clothes; and it was

her taste more than any depth of feeling, that had made her persevere

in wearing all the delicate tints--the violets and grays--which, with

a certain admixture of black, constitute half-mourning. This style of

becoming dress she was supposed to wear in memory of Mr. Kirkpatrick;

in reality because it was both lady-like and economical. Her

beautiful hair was of that rich auburn that hardly ever turns gray;

and partly out of consciousness of its beauty, and partly because the

washing of caps is expensive, she did not wear anything on her head;

her complexion had the vivid tints that often accompany the kind

of hair which has once been red; and the only injury her skin had

received from advancing years was that the colouring was rather more

brilliant than delicate, and varied less with every passing emotion.

She could no longer blush; and at eighteen she had been very proud

of her blushes. Her eyes were soft, large, and china-blue in colour;

they had not much expression or shadow about them, which was perhaps

owing to the flaxen colour of her eyelashes. Her figure was a little

fuller than it used to be, but her movements were as soft and sinuous

as ever. Altogether, she looked much younger than her age, which

was not far short of forty. She had a very pleasant voice, and read

aloud well and distinctly, which Lady Cumnor liked. Indeed, for some

inexplicable reason, she was a greater, more positive favourite with

Lady Cumnor than with any of the rest of the family, though they all

liked her up to a certain point, and found it agreeably useful to

have any one in the house who was so well acquainted with their ways

and habits; so ready to talk, when a little trickle of conversation

was required; so willing to listen, and to listen with tolerable

intelligence, if the subjects spoken about did not refer to serious

solid literature, or science, or politics, or social economy. About

novels and poetry, travels and gossip, personal details, or anecdotes

of any kind, she always made exactly the remarks which are expected

from an agreeable listener; and she had sense enough to confine

herself to those short expressions of wonder, admiration, and

astonishment, which may mean anything, when more recondite things

were talked about.




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