The Cockaynes in Paris; Or, 'Gone abroad'Jerrold, Blanchard
General
The Cockaynes in Paris; Or, 'Gone abroad'
Jerrold, Blanchard
Paris (France) -- Description and travel
When Mrs. Rowe took you into her confidence--a slow and tedious
admission--she was pleased, usually, to fortify your stock of knowledge
with a comprehensive view of her family connexions; intended to set the
Whytes of Battersea (from whom she derived, before the vulgar Park was
there) upon an eminence of glory, with a circle of cringing and
designing Rowes at the base. How she--Whyte on both sides, for her
father married his first cousin--ever came to marry Joshua Rowe, was
something her mother never understood to her dying day. She was
graciously open to consolation in the reflection that nobles and princes
had made humble matches before her; and particularly in this, that the
Prince Regent married Mrs. Fitzherbert.
Lucy Rowe was favoured with these observations, heightened by occasional
hits at her own misfortune in that she was a Rowe, and could not boast
one thimbleful of Whyte blood in her veins.
It was the almost daily care of Mrs. Rowe to impress the people with
whom her business brought her in contact, with the gulf that lay between
her and her niece; although, through the early and inexplicable
condescension of a Miss Harriet Whyte, of Battersea, they bore the same
name, Miss Rowe was no blood relation _whatever_.
It was surprising to see how Lucy bore up under the misfortune. She was
not a Whyte, but she had lived beside one. Youth is so elastic! Lucy,
albeit she had the Rowe lip and nose, and, worse than all, the Rowe hair
(a warm auburn, which Mrs. Rowe described in one syllable, with a
picturesque and popular comparison comprehended in two), was daring
enough to meet the daylight, without showing the smallest signs of
giving way to melancholy. When new comers, as a common effort of
politeness, saw a strong likeness between Mrs. Rowe and her niece, the
representative of the Whytes of Battersea drew herself to her full
height, which was a trifle above her niece's shoulders, and
answered--"Oh dear, no, madam! It would be very strange if there were,
as there is not the slightest blood relationship between us."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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