“To reckon up a thousand of her pranks,
Her pride, her wasteful spending, her unkindness,
Her scolding, pouting, . . .
Were to reap an endless catalogue.”
WHEN Lady Juliana returned from her expedition, it was so late that Douglas had not time to speak to her; and separate engagements carrying them different ways, he had no opportunity to do so until the following morning at breakfast. He then resolved no longer to defer what he had to say, and began by reproaching her with the cavalier manner in which she had behaved to his good friend the General.
“Upon my life, Harry, you are grown perfectly savage,” cried his Lady. “I was most particularly civil; I wonder what you would have me to do? You know very well I cannot have anything to say to old men of that sort.”
“I think,” returned Henry, “you might have been gratified by making an acquaintance with my benefactor, and the man to whom you owe the enjoyment of your favourite pleasures. At any rate, you need not have made yourself ridiculous. May I perish if I did not wish myself underground while you were talking nonsense to those sneaking rascals who wheedle you out of your money! S’death! I had a good mind to throw them and their trumpery out of the window when I saw you make such a fool of yourself.”
“A fool of myself! how foolishly you talk! and as for that vulgar, awkward General, he ought to have been too much flattered. Some of the monsters were so like himself, I am sure he must have thought I took them for the love of his round bare pate.”
“Upon my soul, Julia, I am ashamed of you! Do leave off this excessive folly, and try to be rational. What I particularly wished to say to you is that your father is in town, and it will be proper that you should make another effort to be reconciled to him.”
“I dare say it will,” answered Lady Juliana, with a yawn.
“And you must lose no time. When will you write?”
“There’s no use in writing, or indeed doing anything in the matter. I am sure he won’t forgive me.”
“And why not?”
“Oh, why should he do it now? He did not forgive me when I asked him before.”
“And do you think, then, for a father’s forgiveness it is not worth while to have a little perseverance?”
“I am sure he won’t do it; so ’tis in vain to try,” repeated she, going to the glass, and singing, "Papa non dite di no,” etc.