Sketches in Lavender, Blue and Green | Page 8

another by a mutual antagonism, had settled between themselves which
was to be mistress of him and of his house.
However, there is little fear (bar accidents) but that my friend the
countess will continue to direct the hereditary vote of the Earl of --
towards the goal of common sense and public good, guide his social
policy with judgment and kindness, and manage his estates with
prudence and economy for many years to come. She is a hearty,
vigorous lady, of generous proportions, with the blood of sturdy
forebears in her veins, and one who takes the same excellent good care
of herself that she bestows on all others dependent upon her guidance.
"I remember," said the doctor--we were dining with the doctor in
homely fashion, and our wives had adjourned to the drawing-room to
discuss servants and husbands and other domestic matters with greater
freedom, leaving us to the claret and the twilight--"I remember when
we had the cholera in the village--it must be twenty years ago now--that
woman gave up the London season to stay down here and take the
whole burden of the trouble upon her own shoulders. I do not feel any
call to praise her; she liked the work, and she was in her element, but it
was good work for all that. She had no fear. She would carry the
children in her arms if time pressed and the little ambulance was not at
hand. I have known her sit all night in a room not twelve feet square,
between a dying man and his dying wife. But the thing never touched

her. Six years ago we had the small-pox, and she went all through that
in just the same way. I don't believe she has ever had a day's illness in
her life. She will be physicking this parish when my bones are rattling
in my coffin, and she will be laying down the laws of literature long
after your statue has become a familiar ornament of Westminster
Abbey. She's a wonderful woman, but a trifle masterful."
He laughed, but I detected a touch of irritation in his voice. My host
looked a man wishful to be masterful himself. I do not think he quite
relished the calm way in which this grand dame took possession of all
things around her, himself and his work included.
"Did you ever hear the story of the marriage?" he asked.
"No," I replied, "whose marriage? The earl's?"
"I should call it the countess's," he answered. "It was the gossip of the
county when I first came here, but other curious things have happened
among us to push it gradually out of memory. Most people, I really
believe, have quite forgotten that the Countess of -- once served behind
a baker's counter."
"You don't say so," I exclaimed. The remark, I admit, sounds weak
when written down; the most natural remarks always do.
"It's a fact," said the doctor, "though she does not suggest the shop-girl,
does she? But then I have known countesses, descended in a direct line
from William the Conqueror, who did, so things balance one another.
Mary, Countess of --, was, thirty years ago, Mary Sewell, daughter of a
Taunton linen-draper. The business, profitable enough as country
businesses go, was inadequate for the needs of the Sewell family,
consisting, as I believe it did, of seven boys and eight girls. Mary, the
youngest, as soon as her brief schooling was over, had to shift for
herself. She seems to have tried her hand at one or two things, finally
taking service with a cousin, a baker and confectioner, who was doing
well in Oxford Street. She must have been a remarkably attractive girl;
she's a handsome woman now. I can picture that soft creamy skin when
it was fresh and smooth, and the West of England girls run naturally to
dimples and eyes that glisten as though they had been just washed in
morning dew. The shop did a good trade in ladies' lunches--it was the
glass of sherry and sweet biscuit period. I expect they dressed her in
some neat-fitting grey or black dress, with short sleeves, showing her
plump arms, and that she flitted around the marble-topped tables,

smiling, and looking cool and sweet. There the present Earl of --, then
young Lord C-, fresh from Oxford, and new to the dangers of London
bachelordom, first saw her. He had accompanied some female relatives
to the photographer's, and, hotels and restaurants being deemed
impossible in those days for ladies, had taken them to Sewell's to lunch.
Mary Sewell waited upon the party; and now as many of that party as
are above ground wait upon Mary Sewell."
"He showed good sense in marrying her," I said, "I admire him for it."
The