"I dare say it is," answered the ill-natured Lascelles, holding it
above his head. "You shall have it; only first let us hear it again,
it is so mighty pretty, so very lackadaisical!"
"Give it to me!" cried Euphemia, quite angry.
"Don't, Lascelles," exclaimed Miss Dundas, "the man must be a perfect
idiot to write such rhodomontade."
"O! it is delectable!" returned her lover, opening the paper again;
"it would make a charming ditty! Come, I will sing it. Shall it be to
the tune of 'The Babes in the Wood,' or 'Chevy Chase,' or 'The Beggar
of Bethnal Green?"
"Pitiless, senseless man!" exclaimed Mary, rising from her chair,
where she had been striving to subdue the emotions with which every
line in the poem filled her heart.
"Monster!" cried the enraged Euphemia, taking courage at Miss
Beaufort's unusual warmth; "I will have the paper."
"You sha'n't," answered the malicious coxcomb; and raising his arm
higher than her reach, he tore it in a hundred pieces. "I'll teach
pretty ladies to call names!"
At this sight, no longer able to contain herself, Mary rushed out of
the room, and hurrying to her chamber, threw herself upon the bed,
where she gave way to a paroxysm of tears which shook her almost to
suffocation.
During the first burst of her indignation, her agitated spirit
breathed every appellation of abhorrence and reproach on Lascelles
and his malignant mistress.
Pages:
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442