Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction
I cannot tell the reader what was the conversation that ensued between
Miss Susan and Madame Austin of Bruges, because the two naturally shut
themselves up by themselves, and desired no witnesses. They went
upstairs, threading their way through a warehouse full of goods, to
Madame Austin’s bedroom, which was her reception-room, and, to Miss
Susan’s surprise, a great deal prettier and lighter than the family
apartment below, in which all the ordinary concerns of life were carried
on. There were two white beds in it, a recess with crimson curtains
drawn almost completely across--and various pretty articles of
furniture, some marqueterie cabinets and tables, which would have made
the mouth of any amateur of old furniture water, and two sofas with
little rugs laid down in front of them. The boards were carefully waxed
and clean, the white curtains drawn over the window, and everything
arranged with some care and daintiness. Madame Austin placed her visitor
on the principal sofa, which was covered with tapestry, but rather hard
and straight, and then shut the door. She did not mean to be overheard.
Madame Austin was the ruling spirit in the house. It was she that
regulated the expenses, that married the daughters, and that had made
the match between her son and the poor creature downstairs, who had
taken no part in the conversation. Her husband made believe to supervise
and criticise everything, in which harmless gratification she encouraged
him; but in fact his real business was to acquiesce, which he did with
great success. Miss Susan divined well when she said to herself that his
wife would never permit him to relinquish advantages so great when she
knew something of what they really implied; but she too had been broken
down by grief, and ready to feel that nothing was of any consequence in
life, when Farrel-Austin had found them out. I do not know what cunning
devil communicated to Miss Susan the right spell by which to wake up in
Madame Austin the energies of a vivacious temperament partially
repressed by grief and age; but certainly the attempt was crowned with
success.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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