She looked so girlish still in
her sage matronhood because she was happy, gay, contented with her life,
because her eyes were blue and limpid as deep lake water, and her cheeks
round and fresh as half-blown roses ungathered. Her dress was as dainty
as herself, and merited the eulogium that Miss Burleigh had passed upon
it.
"You are going to be so kind as to introduce me to a good milliner at
Norminster?" Bessie said after a few polite preliminaries.
"Yes--to Miss Jocund, who will be delighted to make your acquaintance. I
shall tell her to take pains with you, but there will be no need to tell
her that; she always does take pains with girls who promise to do her
credit. I am afraid there is not time to send to Paris for the blue
bonnet you must wear next Thursday, but she will make you something
nice; you may trust her. This wonderful election is the event of the
day. We have resolved that Mr. Cecil Burleigh shall head the poll."
"How shall you ensure his triumph? Are you going to canvass for him?"
"No, no, that is out of date. But Lady Angleby threatens that she will
leave Brentwood, and never employ a Norminster tradesman again if they
are so ungrateful as to refuse their support to her nephew. They are
radicals every one."
"And is not she also a radical? She talks of the emancipation of women
by keeping them at school till one-and-twenty, of the elevation of the
masses, and the mutual improvement of everybody not in the peerage.
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