Boardinghouses -- Juvenile fiction; London (England) -- Juvenile fiction; Love stories; Mothers and daughters -- Juvenile fiction
I introduced him. Lady Thesiger entered into conversation. Presently
she beckoned me out of the box.
"Come and sit with me in my box during the next act," she said, "I
have a great deal to say to you."
"But I don't want to leave mother," I replied.
"Nonsense! that cavalier of hers, that delightful young man, how
handsome and distinguished looking he is! will take care of her. What
do you say his name is--Randolph, Randolph--let me think, it is a good
name. Do you know anything about him?"
"Nothing whatever, he happens to be one of our boarders," I replied.
"He has taken a fancy to mother, and gave us tickets and brought us to
this box to-night."
Jasmine looked me all over.
"I must say you have not at all the appearance of a young woman who
has stepped down in the social scale," she remarked. "What a pretty
dress that is, and you have a nicer colour than ever in your cheeks.
Do you know that you are a very handsome girl?"
"You have told me so before, but I detest compliments," was my brusque
rejoinder.
"Oh! I can see that you are as queer and eccentric as ever. Now I tell
you what it is, it is my opinion that you're not poor at all, and
that you are doing all this for a freak."
"And suppose that were the case, what difference would it make?" I
inquired.
"Oh! in that case," answered Lady Thesiger, "your friends would simply
think you eccentric, and love you more than ever. It is the fashion to
be eccentric now, it is poverty that crushes, you must know that."
"Yes," I answered with bitterness, "it is poverty that crushes. Well,
then, from that point of view we are crushed, for we are desperately
poor. But in our present nice comfortable house, even contaminated as
we are by our paying guests, we do not feel our poverty, for we have
all the good things of life around us, and the whole place seems very
flourishing. Why don't you come to see us, Jasmine?"
"I am afraid you will want me to recommend my friends to go to you,
and I really cannot, Westenra, I cannot."
"But why should you not recommend them?"
"They will get to know that you were, that you belonged, that
you"--Jasmine stopped and coloured high. "I cannot do it," she said,
"you must not expect it."
"I won't," I replied with some pride.
"But all the same, I will come some morning," she continued. "You look
so nice, and Mr. Randolph is so--by the way, what Randolph is he? I
must find out all about him. Do question him about the county he comes
from."
I did not answer, and having said good-bye to Jasmine, returned to our
own box.
The play came to an end, and we went home. Mother had gone up to her
room. Mr. Randolph and I found ourselves for a moment alone.
"This evening has done her good," he said, glancing at me in an
interrogative fashion.
"Are you talking of mother?" I replied.
"Yes, you must see how much brighter she appeared. Do you think it did
really help her?"
"I do not understand you," I replied; "help her? She enjoyed it, of
course."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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