The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. I (of II)Lever, Charles
History
The Martins Of Cro' Martin, Vol. I (of II)
Lever, Charles
Ireland -- History -- 1800-1837 -- Fiction; Ireland -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Nor was Massingbred himself less pleasing to her. It was so long, so
many, many years since she had met with one fresh from that great world
which alone she valued!
Correspondence had kept her to a certain extent informed upon the
changes and vicissitudes of society,--the births, deaths, marriages,
separations, quarrels, and other disasters of those dear friends for
whose griefs absence and time offer so many consolations! But then, the
actual appearance, the _coup d'oil_ of that world could only be imparted
by an observer, imbued with all the spirit that gives observation its
peculiar piquancy. This she found in him; and so agreeably exercised was
it, that she actually heard dinner announced without attending, and only
as she arose from her seat was reminded to present him to Miss Martin,
by the brief phrase, “My niece, Mr. Massingbred;” while she took his
arm, with a glance at Mr. Repton, that plainly said, “You are deposed.”
The passage to the dinner-room lay through three spacious and splendid
rooms, which now were brilliantly lighted up, and lined with servants in
rich liveries,--a degree of state Massingbred was not a little pleased
at; partly suspecting that it was intended to do himself honor. As they
moved slowly through the last of these, the door suddenly opened, and
young Nelligan entered. He had returned late from a long ride, and
heard nothing whatever of Massing-bred's arrival. With an exclamation
of “Jack--Massingbred!” he bounded forward. But the other showed no
recognition of him; and directing Lady Dorothea's attention to the
richness of a picture-frame, passed calmly on into the dinner-room.
“You must bring up the rear alone, Nelligan,” said Martin, who had given
his arm to Miss Henderson; and Joe followed, almost overwhelmed with
mingled shame and amazement.
For an instant the possibility of mistake assuaged his sense of
mortification; but no sooner did he find himself at table, and directly
opposite to Massingbred, than he perceived there was no ground whatever
for this consolation. It was, indeed, Massingbred, just as he had seen
him the first day in the Commons Hall at dinner, and when his cold,
supercilious manner had struck him so disagreeably.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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