“Say it over and over again, until you know it perfectly,” said May.
“I got it in here, honey, fast,” replied the old woman, pointing to her heart.
“That is right. Now, can I do any thing for you?”
“No, my misses, only call my grandchild as you go ’long. I let her go out to have a run in the sunshine this morning.”
“I will send her to you; and to-morrow I think you will see Father Fabian,” said May, before she closed the door. And she went away, wrapped as with a royal mantle, in the blessings of the poor.
THINGS OF TIME AND ETERNITY.
In a small and elegant boudoir, which opened into a conservatory, and was crowded with articles of taste and vertu,—the gleanings of a tour through Europe,—a lady, somewhat past the prime of life, leaned over an Or-molu table, arranging with exquisite touches, a quantity of splendid flowers in a basket of variegated mosses which stood on it. There was a look of high-bred indolence about her, and an expression of pride on her countenance so earthly, that even the passing stranger shrunk from it. And, while with a fine eye for the harmony of colors, she blended the gorgeous flowers together, weaving the dark mosses amidst them, until they looked like a rare Flemish painting, the door opened, and a distinguished-looking young gentleman came in—called her mother—kissed her on the cheek, and threw himself with an easy air into a fauteuil.
“You see how busy I am, Walter, and until I am disengaged, look over these new engravings. They are just from Paris,” said the lady.
“I see, dear mother, that you have the affairs of a nation on your shoulders. I hope, for your health’s sake, you have no other momentous concerns to look after this morning,” he said, playfully.
“One more, Walter; my goldfinch is half-starved, and the mocking-bird is really on his dignity, because he has not had egg and lettuce for his breakfast; but, apropos, what success had you with old Stillinghast?”
“Faith, mother, it is hard to tell. He is a tough personage to deal with. I got in, however, and saw the two nieces.”
“One of them is extremely beautiful. I shall have no objections to making her Mrs. Jerrold, provided—”
“The old miser makes her his heiress,” interrupted Mrs. Jerrold.
“Exactly. The other one is a nice, graceful, little thing, with such a pair of eyes! She has a spirit of her own, too, I fancy.”
“I have been thinking over our plan to-day, and it really seems to be a feasible one, Walter, if you can only win Mr. Stillinghast’s confidence. How do they live?”
“I presume they consider it comfortable;—it would be miserable to me. The old man appeared quite flattered this morning, when I got him to invest that money for me; and shook my hand warmly when I inveighed against the present mania for speculating in fancy stocks.”