“Everything,” she would answer another
time, “is making me happy.”
“I think I am happiness,” she said
once.
How could she naturally be other than happy,
seeing she came of happiness! “Il lieto
fattore,” says Dante; “whose happy-making
sight,” says Milton.
Mr. Wylder went and dined with sir Wilton and lady
Ann. The latter did her poor best to please him,
and was successful. It had always been an annoyance
to Mr. Wylder that his wife was not a lady. In
the bush he did not feel it; but now he saw, as well
as knew, wherein she was inferior, and did not see
wherein she excelled. It was the more consolation
to him that lady Ann praised his daughter, her beauty,
her manners, her wit—praised her for everything,
in short, that she thought hers, and for some things
she thought were not hers. But she hinted that
it would be of the greatest benefit to Barbara to have
the next season in London. The girl had met nobody,
and might, in her ignorance and innocence, being such
an eager, impetuous, warm-hearted creature, with her
powers of discrimination of course but little cultivated,
make unsuitable friendships that would lead to entanglement;
while, well chaperoned, she might become one of the
first ladies in the county. She took care to
let her father know at the same time, or think he knew,
that, although her son would be only a baronet, he
would be rich, for the estates were in excellent condition
and free of encumbrance; and hinted that there was
now a fine chance of enlarging the property, neighbouring
land being in the market at a low price.
Mr. Wylder had indeed hoped for a higher match, but
lady Ann, being an earl’s daughter, had influence
with him. The remaining twin was so delicate
that it was very doubtful if he would succeed:
if he did not, and land could be had between to connect
the two properties of Mortgrange and Wylder, the estate
would be far the finest in the county; when, as lady
Ann hinted, means might be used to draw down the favour
of Providence in the form of a patent of nobility.
To lady Ann, London was the centre of love-making,
and Arthur, she said to herself, would show to better
advantage there than in the country. The place
where she had herself been nearest to falling in love,
was a ball-room: the heat apparently had half
thawed her.
Mr. Wylder thought lady Ann was right, and the best
thing for Barbara would be to go to London: lady
Ann would present her at court, and she would doubtless
be the belle of the season. Her chance would be
none the worse of making a better match than with
Arthur Lestrange.
It may seem odd that a like reflection did not occur
to lady Ann: far more eligible men than her son
might well be drawn to such a bit of sunshine as Barbara;
but just what in Barbara was most attractive, lady
Ann was least capable of appreciating.
