Tales and Novels — Volume 10: HelenEdgeworth, Maria
General
Tales and Novels — Volume 10: Helen
Edgeworth, Maria
England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Women -- England -- Fiction
This was the first time Helen had ever seen Lady Cecilia in public,
where certainly she appeared to great advantage. Not thinking about
herself, but ever willing to be pleased; so bright, so gay, she was
sunshine which seemed to spread its beams wherever she turned. And she
had something to say to everybody, or to answer quick to whatever they
said or looked, happy always in the _àpropos_ of the moment. Little
there might be, perhaps, in what she said, but there was all that was
wanted, just what did for the occasion. In others there often appeared
a distress for something to say, or a dead dullness of countenance
opposite to you. From others, a too fast hazarded broadside of questions
and answers--glads and sorrys in chain-shots that did no execution,
because there was no good aim--congratulations and condolences playing
at cross purposes--These were mistakes, misfortunes, which could never
occur in Lady Cecilia’s natural grace and acquired tact of manner. Helen
was amused, as she followed her, in watching the readiness with which
she knew how to exchange the necessary counters in the commerce of
society: she was amused, till her attention was distracted by hearing,
as she and Beauclerc passed, the whispered words--“_I promessi
sposi_--look--_La belle fiancée_.” These words were repeated as they
went on, and Lady Cecilia heard some one say, “I thought it was broken
off; that was all slander then?” She recollected Lady Emily’s words,
and, terrified lest Helen should hear more of--she knew not what, she
began to talk to her as fast as she could, while they were stopped in
the door-way by a crowd. She succeeded for the moment with Helen;
she had not heard the last speech, and she could not, as long as Lady
Cecilia spoke, hear more; but Beauclerc again distinguished the words
“_Belle fiancée_;” and as he turned to discover the speaker, a fat
matron near him asked, “Who is it?” and the daughter answered, “It is
that handsome girl, with the white rose in her hair.”--“Hush!” said the
brother, on whose arm she leaned; “Handsome is that handsome does.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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