Scheherazade: a London night's entertainmentWarden, Florence
General
Scheherazade: a London night's entertainment
Warden, Florence
English fiction -- 19th century
“It is very kind of Lady Florencecourt; I shall like to come very
much,” said Nouna, who was brimming over with delight and triumph.
“Only I don’t think I could do much to entertain a rising member of
Parliament. I can’t talk politics; but perhaps he’d like to learn to
make cocked hats out of newspaper, and then he can amuse himself when
the other members are making dull speeches.”
“I’m sure he’d like it immensely if you will teach him,” said Lord
Florencecourt, with cold civility, which would have damped frivolity
less aerial than Nouna’s.
The girls thought Lady Florencecourt must have been bewitched thus to
transgress her own well-known rule of ignoring any stranger whose
pedigree was not at her fingers’ ends. She had, besides, gone so far
as to gibe at her brother for admitting “a loose-mannered young woman
of unknown and questionable antecedents”--as she styled young Mrs.
Lauriston--into the society of his daughters. And now she was sending
a pressing invitation by the mouth of her husband, whose prejudice
against the interloper was hardly concealed! Decidedly Nouna had a
dash of Eastern magic about her. Meanwhile the young lady herself was
troubling her head very little with the problem. She was much struck
with the blue eyes and curly dark hair of the younger of the two boys,
and bending down to him with her little head perched on one side in
the coquettish manner she used alike to man, woman, child or animal,
she asked with a smile what his name was.
“Allow me to present him with proper ceremony,” said Ella playfully.
“Permit me to introduce you,” gravely to her small cousin, “to Mrs.
George Lauriston. Mrs. Lauriston,” turning to the lady, “the
Honourable Bertram Kilmorna!”
She had scarcely uttered the last word when Nouna shot up from her
bending attitude as if at an electric shock, and fixed her great eyes,
wide with bewilderment and surprise, on Lord Florencecourt, who was
standing behind Ella and his son, near enough to hear these words and
to see their effect.
“Kilmorna!” she repeated in a whisper, still looking full at the
Colonel, whose rugged face had grown suddenly rigid and grey. Then,
without further ceremony, she ran away to her husband, who was talking
to Lady Millard at a little distance.
“George, George!” she said in a tumultuous whisper, her face quivering
with excitement, “I don’t want to go to Lady Florencecourt’s; tell him
I don’t want to go!”
“Why, what’s this? How has the Colonel offended you?” asked George
laughing.
“He hasn’t offended me at all. Only I’ve changed my mind. I know I--I
shouldn’t like Lady Florencecourt. I’d rather not go.”
But as George insisted that it was impossible to break an engagement
just made, without any reason, she broke from him with an impatient
push, and disappeared into the house just before Lord Florencecourt,
who had abruptly discovered that he was in a hurry to be off, took his
leave. Ella prevented George from fetching his wife out.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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