English fiction -- 19th century; Tailors -- Fiction
Her head dropped in her lap. There was something ludicrous to Evan in
this excess of grief on account of such a business; but he was tender-
hearted and wrought upon to declare that, whether or not he was to blame
for his mother's intrusion that afternoon, he was ready to do what he
could to make up to the Countess for her sufferings: whereat the Countess
sighed again: asked him what he possibly could do, and doubted his
willingness to accede to the most trifling request.
'No; I do in verity believe that were I to desire you to do aught for
your own good alone, you would demur, Van.'
He assured her that she was mistaken.
'We shall see,' she said.
'And if once or twice, I have run counter to you, Louisa--'
'Abominable language!' cried the Countess, stopping her ears like a
child. 'Do not excruciate me so. You laugh! My goodness! what will
you come to!'
Evan checked his smile, and, taking her hand, said:
'I must tell you; that, on the whole, I see nothing to regret in what has
happened to-day. You may notice a change in the manners of the servants
and some of the country squiresses, but I find none in the bearing of the
real ladies, the true gentlemen, to me.'
'Because the change is too fine for you to perceive it,' interposed the
Countess.
'Rose, then, and her mother, and her father!' Evan cried impetuously.
'As for Lady Jocelyn!' the Countess shrugged:
'And Sir Franks!' her head shook: 'and Rose, Rose is, simply self-willed;
a "she will" or "she won't" sort of little person. No criterion!
Henceforth the world is against us. We have to struggle with it: it does
not rank us of it!'
'Your feeling on the point is so exaggerated, my dear Louisa', said Evan,
'one can't bring reason to your ears. The tattle we shall hear we shall
outlive. I care extremely for the good opinion of men, but I prefer my
own; and I do not lose it because my father was in trade.'
'And your own name, Evan Harrington, is on a shop,' the Countess struck
in, and watched him severely from under her brow, glad to mark that he
could still blush.
'Oh, heaven!' she wailed to increase the effect, 'on a shop! a brother
of mine!'
'Yes, Louisa. It may not last . . . I did it--is it not better that a
son should blush, than cast dishonour on his father's memory?'
'Ridiculous boy-notion!'
'Rose has pardoned it, Louisa--cannot you? I find that the naturally
vulgar and narrow-headed people, and cowards who never forego mean
advantages, are those only who would condemn me and my conduct in that.'
'And you have joy in your fraction of the world left to you!' exclaimed
his female-elder.
Changeing her manner to a winning softness, she said:
'Let me also belong to the very small party! You have been really
romantic, and most generous and noble; only the shop smells! But, never
mind, promise me you will not enter it.'
'I hope not,' said Evan.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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