Adventure stories; England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
It seemed that our hostess having got over the first shock of our
identity, proposed to match our breeding with some of her own. She
began to use a high clipping tone that she evidently kept for company,
and became so assiduous in the attentions she paid us, and so heedful
of our wants, that we profited vastly by her credulity, if that is the
right name to apply to it. Her husband, however, was not so lightly to
be imposed upon, as he was at pains to show. At every polite effort
put forward by his wife, he counteracted it by a wink or a cough, or a
chuckle, or a snigger. And he put the handles to our names in such a
voice of banter as greatly distressed his wife, who continued to
overpower us with her civilities. At last, says she:
"Your lordship and your ladyship must really excuse my husband. He is
a very good honest man to be sure," here she sank her voice to a
mysterious whisper, "but he is a little vulgar and low-bred in these
things, although," with a still lower voice and more mystery, "I would
not have him hear me say it for the world. You see he is not come of
so good a family as I am. His folk were a little vulgar and low-bred
too, and people said at the time that for all his farm and his prize
heifers it was the last thing to be expected that a person like me
would ever marry him. Ah, well, I suppose it is always a mistake to
marry out of one's station, although to be sure no one could have a
kinder, better husband. But your lordship and your ladyship follow me,
do you not? He almost makes me blush for his manners, that he do."
"My dear madam," says I, "I am sure we both feel for you from the
bottom of our hearts, and understand the occasion perfectly."
And could there have been a prettier comedy? First we had had the
husband apologizing for the wife, and now we had the wife apologizing
for the husband. Lord knows whether she allowed us to be what we were
or not, but she certainly entertained us to a royal breakfast. Two
famished people never sat down to a finer meal in this world than the
one we partook of. And when we left our honest but wonderfully
ill-assorted host and hostess, about nine of the clock in the morning
to continue on our way, we were most handsomely fortified in mind and
body.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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