Wives and Daughters: An Every-Day Story - Page 416/572

"It's not the out-speaking, it's what you say that goes against me,

Miss Browning," said Mrs. Goodenough, affronted, yet ready to play

her card as soon as needed. And as for Mrs. Dawes, she was too

anxious to get into the genteelest of all (Hollingford) society to

object to whatever Miss Browning (who, in right of being a deceased

rector's daughter, rather represented the selectest circle of the

little town) advocated, whether celibacy, marriage, bigamy, or

polygamy.

So the remainder of the evening passed over without any further

reference to the secret Mrs. Goodenough was burning to disclose,

unless a remark made _àpropos de rien_ by Miss Browning, during the

silence of a deal, could be supposed to have connection with the

previous conversation. She said suddenly and abruptly,--

"I don't know what I have done that any man should make me his

slave." If she was referring to any prospect of matrimonial danger

she saw opening before her fancy, she might have been comforted. But

it was a remark of which no one took any notice, all being far too

much engaged in the rubber. Only when Miss Browning took her early

leave (for Miss Phoebe had a cold, and was an invalid at home),

Mrs. Goodenough burst out with--

"Well! now I may speak out my mind, and say as how if there was a

slave between us two, when Goodenough was alive, it wasn't me; and

I don't think as it was pretty in Miss Browning to give herself such

airs on her virginity when there was four widows in the room,--who've

had six honest men among 'em for husbands. No offence, Miss Airy!"

addressing an unfortunate little spinster, who found herself the sole

representative of celibacy now that Miss Browning was gone. "I could

tell her of a girl as she's very fond on, who's on the high road to

matrimony; and in as cunning a way as ever I heerd on; going out at

dusk to meet her sweetheart, just as if she was my Sally, or your

Jenny. And her name is Molly too,--which, as I have often thought,

shows a low taste in them as first called her so;--she might as

well be a scullery-maid at oncest. Not that she's picked up anybody

common; she's looked about her for a handsome fellow, and a smart

young man enough!"

Every one around the table looked curious and intent on the

disclosures being made, except the hostess, Mrs. Dawes, who smiled

intelligence with her eyes, and knowingly pursed up her mouth until

Mrs. Goodenough had finished her tale. Then she said demurely,--