Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
The dinner was a gorgeous dinner, worthy the hall and the company; the
wine, as I have said, old and rare; and everything went off to
perfection. The Farrel-Austins, who were only relations, and not of
first importance as county people, sat about the centre of the table,
which was the least important place, and opposite to them was Giovanna,
who had been put under the charge of old Dr. Richard, to keep her in
order, a duty to which he devoted all his faculties. Everything went on
perfectly well. The dinner proceeded solemnly, grandly, to its
conclusion. Grace--that curious, ill-timed, after-dinner grace which
comes just at the daintiest moment of the feast--was duly said; the
fruits were being served, forced fruits of every procurable kind, one of
the most costly parts of the entertainment at that season; and a general
bustle of expectation prepared the way for those congratulatory and
friendly speeches, welcomes of his great neighbors to the young Squire,
which were the real objects of the assembly. Lord Kingsborough even had
cleared his throat for the first time--a signal which his wife heard at
the other end, and understood as an intimation that quietness was to be
enforced, to which she replied by stopping, to set a good example, in
the midst of a sentence. He cleared his throat again, the great man, and
was almost on his legs. He was by Miss Susan’s side in the place of
honor. He was a stout man, requiring some pulling up after dinner when
his chair was comfortable--and he had actually put forth one foot, and
made his first effort to rise, for the third time clearing his throat.
When--an interruption occurred never to be forgotten in the annals of
Whiteladies. Suddenly there was heard a patter of small feet, startling
the company; and suddenly a something, a pygmy, a tiny figure, made
itself visible in the centre of the table. It stood up beside a great
pyramid of flowers, a living decoration, with a little flushed rose-face
and flaxen curls showing above the mass of greenery. The great people at
the head and the foot of the table stood breathless during the commotion
and half-scuffle in the centre of the room which attended this sudden
apparition. “What is it?” everybody asked. After that first moment of
excited curiosity, it became apparent that it was a child who had been
suddenly lifted by some one into that prominent place. The little
creature stood still a moment, frightened; then, audibly prompted, woke
to its duty. It plucked from its small head a small velvet cap with a
white feather, and gave forth its tiny shout, which rang into the
echoes.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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