'But, Mamma,' whined Katherine, in such a tone that Mr. Woodbourne could bear it no longer, and ordered her instantly to leave the room, and not to appear again till she could shew a little more submission. She obeyed, after a little more sobbing and entreating; and as she closed the door behind her, Harriet came out of the opposite room.
'What is the matter?' whispered she; 'has it all come out?'
'Yes, it is in the paper, and Papa is very angry,' sighed Katherine.
'Is there anything about me?' asked Harriet eagerly, paying no regard to poor Katherine's woful appearance and streaming eyes.
'Oh no, nothing,' said Katherine, hastening away, as Mrs. Hazleby and Lucy came into the passage.
'Hey-day! what is all this about?' exclaimed the former, encountering Mr. Woodbourne, as he came out of his wife's dressing-room; 'what is the matter now?'
'I believe your daughter can explain it better than I can,' answered Mr. Woodbourne, giving her the paper, and walking away to his study as soon as he came to the bottom of the stairs.
As soon as Mrs. Hazleby found herself in the drawing-room she called upon her eldest daughter to explain to her the meaning of what she saw in the newspaper.
'Why, Mamma,' Harriet began, 'you know Miss Merton and Lizzie Woodbourne care for nothing but history and all that stuff, and do not mind what they do, as long as they can talk, talk, talk of nothing else all day long. So they were at it the day you dined out, and they had some question or other, whether King Arthur's Round Table were knights or not, till at last Kate said something about the Institute, and they were all set upon going, though Helen told them they had better not, so out we went, we walked all together to Mrs. Turner's, and she took them. I suppose Fido must have fallen into the river while they were at the Institute.'
'Poor dear little fellow, I dare say that was the way he was lost,' said Mrs. Hazleby; 'when once young people take that kind of nonsense into their head, there is an end of anything else. Well, and how was it we never heard of it all this time?'
'I think no one would wish to tell of it,' said Harriet; 'you would not have heard of it now, if it had not been in the paper.'
'Well, I hope Miss Lizzie will have enough of it,' said Mrs. Hazleby; 'it will open her papa's eyes to all her conceit, if anything will.'
'I am sure it is time,' said Harriet; 'she thinks herself wiser than all the world, one cannot speak a word for her.'
'O Harriet!' said Lucy, looking up from her work with some indignation in her eyes.
'I believe you think it all very grand, Lucy,' said her mother; 'you care for nothing as long as you can dawdle about with Helen. Pray did you go to this fine place?'
'No, Mamma,' said Lucy.
'H-m,' said Mrs. Hazleby, rather disappointed at losing an opportunity of scolding her.
Anne had gone to write a letter in her mother's room, whilst Elizabeth was busy. She had just finished it, and was thinking of going to see whether anyone was ready to read in the school-room, when Rupert came in, and making a low bow, addressed her thus: 'So, Miss Nancy, I congratulate you.'
'What is the matter now?' said Anne.
'Pray, Anne,' said he, 'did you ever experience the satisfaction of feeling how pleasant it is to see one's name in print?'
'You were very near having something like that pleasure yourself,' said Anne; 'it was only your arrival on Friday that saved the expense of an advertisement at the head of a column in the Times-
'R. M., return, return, return to your sorrowing friends.''
'Pray be more speedy next time,' said Rupert, 'for then I shall be even with you.'
'I am sure you have some wickedness in your head, or all your speeches would not begin with 'Pray,'' said Anne; 'what do you mean?'
'What I say,' answered Rupert; 'I have just read Miss Merton's name in the paper.'
'Some other Miss Merton, you foolish boy!' said Anne.
'No, no, yourself, Anne Katherine Merton, daughter of Sir Edward,' said Rupert.
'My dear Rupert, you do not mean it!' said Anne, somewhat alarmed.
'I saw it with my eyes,' said Rupert.
'But where?'
'In the Abbeychurch Reporter, or whatever you call it.'
'Oh!' said Anne, looking relieved, 'we are probably all there, as having been at the Consecration.'
'The company there present, are, I believe, honoured with due mention of Sir Edward Merton and family,' said Rupert; 'but I am speaking of another part of the paper where Miss Merton is especially noted, alone in her glory.'
'In what paper did you say, Rupert?' said Lady Merton.
'The Abbeychurch Reporter,' said he.
'Mr. Higgins's paper!' said Anne. 'O Mamma, I see it all-that horrible Mechanics' Institute!'
'Why, Anne,' said her brother, 'I thought you would be charmed with your celebrity.'
'But where have you seen it, Rupert?' said Anne; 'poor Lizzie, has she heard it?'
'Mr. Walker came in just now in great dismay, to shew it to Mr. Woodbourne,' said Rupert; 'and they had a very long discussion on the best means of contradicting it, to which I listened with gravity, quite heroic, I assure you, considering all things. Then my uncle carried it off to shew it to his wife, and I came up to congratulate you.'
'I am sure it is no subject of congratulation,' said Anne; 'where was Papa all the time?'
'Gone to call on Mr. Somerville,' said Rupert.
'But I thought Lizzie had told her father,' said Lady Merton.
'She told Mrs. Woodbourne directly,' said Anne; 'but she could not get at my uncle, and I suppose Mrs. Woodbourne had not told him. What an annoyance for them all! I hope Mr. Woodbourne is not very much displeased.'
'He was more inclined to laugh than to be angry, said Rupert; 'and it is indeed a choice morceau, worthy of Augustus Mills, Esquire, himself. I hope Mr. Woodbourne will bring it down-stairs, that you may explain to me the rare part which describes the decrepid old Giant Chivalry, sitting in his den, unable to do any mischief, only biting his nails at the passers by, like the Giant Pope in the Pilgrim's Progress.'
Anne could not help laughing. 'But, Rupert,' said she, 'pray do not say too much about it in the evening. I am not at all sure that Papa will not be very much displeased to see his name figuring in the paper as if he was a supporter of this horrid place. I wish, as Lizzie says, that I had cut my head off before I went, for it has really come to be something serious. Papa's name will seem to sanction their proceedings.'
'My dear,' said Lady Merton, 'you may comfort yourself by remembering that your Papa's character is too well known to be affected by such an assertion as this; most people will not believe it, and those who do, can only think that his daughter is turning radical, not himself.'
'Ay, this is the first public decisive act of Miss Merton's life,' said Rupert; 'no wonder so much is made of it.'
'But, Rupert,' said Anne, 'I only beg of you not to say anything about it to Lizzie.'
'You cut me off from everything diverting,' said Rupert; 'you are growing quite impertinent, but I will punish you some day when you do not expect it.'
'I do not care what you do when we are at home,' said Anne; 'I defy you to do your worst then; only spare Lizzie and me while we are here.'
'Spare Lizzie, indeed!' said Rupert; 'she does not want your protection, she is able enough to take care of herself.'
'I believe Rupert's five wits generally go off halting, from the sharp encounter of hers,' said Lady Merton.
'And therefore he wants to gain a shabby advantage over a wounded enemy,' said Anne; 'I give you up, you recreant; your name should have been Oliver, instead of Rupert.'
'There is an exemplification of the lecture,' said Rupert; 'impotent chivalry biting its nails with disdain and despite.'
'Well, Mamma,' said Anne, 'since chivalry is impotent, I shall leave you to tame that foul monster with something else; I will have no more to do with him.'
