"Who taught the parrot to cry, hail? What taught the chattering pie his tale? Hunger; that sharpener of the wits, Which gives e'en fools some thinking fits"
DRUMMOND'S
Persius. MARY found herself bereft of both her lovers nearly at the same time. Lord Glenallan, after formally renewing his suit, at length took a final leave, and returned to Scotland. Lady Juliana's indignation could only be equalled by Dr. Redgill's upon the occasion. He had planned a snug retreat for himself during the game season at Glenallan Castle; where, from the good-nature and easy temper of both master and mistress, he had no doubt but that he should in time come to rule the roast, and be lord paramount over kitchen and larder. His disappointment was therefore great at finding all the solid joys of red deer and moor-game, kippered salmon and mutton hams, "vanish like the baseless fabric of a vision," leaving not a wreck behind.
"Refused Lord Glenallan!" exclaimed he to Lady Emily, upon first
hearing of it. "The thing's incredible—absolutely impossible—I won't
believe it!"
"That's right, Doctor; who is it that says 'And still believe the story
false that ought not to be true? I admire your candour, and wish I
could imitate it."
"Then your Ladyship really believes it. 'Pon my soul, I—I—it's really a
very vexatious affair. I feel for Lady Juliana, poor woman! No wonder
she's hysterical-five and twenty thousand a year refused! What is it she
would have? The finest deer park in Scotland! Every sort of game upon
the estate! A salmon fishing at the very door!—I should just like to
know what is the meaning of it?"
"Cannot you guess, Doctor" asked Lady Emily.
"Guess! No, 'pon my soul! I defy any man to guess what could tempt a
woman to refuse five and twenty thousand a year; unless, indeed, she has
something higher in view, and even then she should be pretty sure of her
mark. But I suppose, because Miss Adelaide has got a Duke, she thinks
she must have one too. I suppose that's the story; but I can tell her
Dukes are not so plenty; and she's by no means so fine a woman as her
sister, and her market's spoilt, or I'm much mistaken. What man in his
senses would ever ask a woman who had been such an idiot as to refuse
five and twenty thousand a year?"
"I see, Doctor, you are quite a novice in the tender passion. Cannot you
make allowance for it: a young lady's not being in love?"
"In what?" demanded the Doctor.
"In love," repeated Lady Emily.
"Love! Bah—nonsense—no mortal in their senses ever thinks of such
stuff now."
"Then you think love and madness are one and the same thing, it seems?"
"I think the man or woman who could let their love stand in the way of
five and twenty thousand a year is the next thing to being mad," said
the Doctor warmly; "and in this case I can see no difference."
"But you'll allow there are some sorts of love that may be indulged
without casting any shade upon the understanding?"
"I really can't tell what your Ladyship means," said the Doctor
impatiently.
"I mean, for example, the love one may feel towards a turtle, such as we
had lately."
"That's quite a different thing," interrupted the Doctor.
"Pardon me, but whatever the consequence may be, the effects in both
cases were very similar, as exemplified in yourself. Pray, what
difference did it make to your friends, who were deprived of your
society, whether you spent your time in walking with 'even step, and
musing gait,' before your Dulcinea's window or the turtle's
cistern?—whether you were engrossed in composing a sonnet to your
mistress's eyebrow, or in contriving a new method of heightening the
enjoyments of calipash? —whether you expatiated with greater rapture
on the charms of a white skin or green fat?—whether you were most
devoted to a languishing or a lively beauty?—whether——"
"'Pon my honour, Lady Emily, I really—I—I can't conceive what it is you
mean. There's a time for everything; and I'm sure nobody but yourself
would ever have thought of bringing in a turtle to a conversation upon
marriage."
"On the contrary, Doctor, I thought it had been upon love; and I was
endeavouring to convince you that even the wisest of men may be
susceptible of certain tender emotions towards a beloved object."