With many complimentary words he invited her to distribute
the prizes to the children.
"If your ladyship will so honor them, it will be a day in their lives to
remember."
"Give away the prizes? Oh yes, if ye'll show me which choild to give 'em
to," replied the viscountess with a good-humored readiness. Then, with
a propriety of feeling which was thought very nice in her, she added, in
the same natural, distinct manner, standing and looking round as she
spoke:
"But is it not my Lady Latimer's right? What should I know of your
children, who am only a summer visitor?"
Lady Latimer acknowledged the courteous disclaimer with that exquisite
smile which had been the magic of her loveliness always. The children
would appreciate the kindness of a stranger, she said; and with a
perfect grace yielded the precedence, and at the same time resigned the
opportunity she had always enjoyed before of giving the children a
monition once a year on their duty to God, their parents, their pastors
and masters, elders and betters, and neighbors in general. Whether my
lady felt aggrieved or not nobody could discern; but the people about
were aggrieved for her, and Miss Buff confided to a friend, in a
semi-audible whisper of intense exasperation, that the rector was the
biggest muff and toady that ever it had been her misfortune to know.
Miss Buff, it will be perceived, liked strong terms; but, as she justly
pleaded in extenuation of a taste for which she was reproached, what was
the use of there being strong terms in the language if they were not to
be applied on suitable occasions?
The person, however, on whom this incident made the deepest impression
was Bessie Fairfax.
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