Love Me Little, Love Me Long | Page 5

only by
occasional sighs from the sufferer, in whose heart a dozen projects
battled fiercely for the mastery, and worried and sore perplexed her,
and rent her inmost soul fiercely divers ways.
"Black lace, dear," suggested Lucy, soothingly.
Mrs. B. curled her arm lovingly round Lucy's waist. "Just what I was
beginning to think," said she, warmly. "And we can't both be mistaken,
can we? But where can I get enough?" and her countenance, that the
cheering coincidence had rendered seraphic, was once more clouded
with doubt.
"Why, you have yards of it."
"Yes, but mine is all made up in some form or other, and it musses
one's things so to pick them to pieces."
"So it does, dear," replied Lucy, with gentle but genuine feeling.
"It would only be for one night, Lucy--I should not hurt it, love--you
would not like to fetch down your Brussels point scarf, and see how it
would look, would you? We need not cut the lace, dear; we could tack
it on again the next morning; you are not so particular as I am--you
look well in anything."
Lucy was soon seated denuding herself and embellishing her aunt. The
latter reclined with grace, and furthered the work by smile and gesture.
"You don't ask me about the skirmish in the nursery."
"Their squabbles bore me, dear; but you can tell me who was the most
in fault, if you think it worth while."
"Reginald, then, I am afraid; but it is not the poor boy; it is the

influence of the stable-yard; and I do advise and entreat you to keep
him out of it."
"Impossible, my dear; you don't know boys. The stable is their paradise.
When he grows older his father must interfere; meantime, let us talk of
something more agreeable."
"Yes; you shall go on with your story. You had got to his look of
despair when your papa came in that morning."
"Oh, I have no time for anybody's despair just now; I can think of
nothing but this detestable gown. Lucy, I suspect I almost wish I had
made them put another breadth into the skirt."
"Luncheon, ma'am."
Lucy begged her aunt to go down alone; she would stay and work.
"No, you must come to luncheon; there is a dish on purpose for
you--stewed eels."
"Eels; why, I abhor them; I think they are water-serpents."
"Who is it that is so fond of them, then?"
"It is you, aunt."
"So it is. I thought it had been you. Come, you must come down,
whether you eat anything or not. I like somebody to talk to me while I
am eating, and I had an idea just now--it is gone--but perhaps it will
come back to me: it was about this abominable gown. O! how I wish
there was not such a thing as dress in the world!!!"
While Mrs. Bazalgette was munching water-snakes with delicate zeal,
and Lucy nibbling cake, came a letter. Mrs. Bazalgette read it with
heightening color, laid it down, cast a pitying glance on Lucy, and said,
with a sigh, "Poor girl!"
Lucy turned a little pale. "Has anything happened?" she faltered.
"Something is going to happen; you are to be torn away from here,
where you are so happy--where we all love you, dear. It is from that
selfish old bachelor. Listen: 'Dear madam, my niece Lucy has been due
here three days. I have waited to see whether you would part with her
without being dunned. My curiosity on that point is satisfied, and I
have now only my affection to consult, which I do by requesting you to
put her and her maid into a carriage that will be waiting for her at your
door twenty-four hours after you receive this note. I have the honor to
be, madam,' an old brute!!"
"And you can smile; but that is you all over; you don't care a straw

whether you are happy or miserable."
"Don't I?"
"Not you; you will leave this, where you are a little queen, and go and
bury yourself three months with that old bachelor, and nobody will ever
gather from your face that you are bored to death; and here we are
asked to the Cavendishes' next Wednesday, and the Hunts' ball on
Friday--you are such a lucky girl--our best invitations always drop in
while you are with us--we go out three times as often during your
months as at other times; it is your good fortune, or the weather, or
something."
"Dear aunt, this was your own arrangement with Uncle Fountain. I used
to be six months with each in turn till you insisted on its being three.
You make me almost laugh, both you and Uncle Fountain; what do you
see in me worth quarreling