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A SHABBY GENTEEL STORY 6S
vities of her family, but was on this occasion more happy than any
one of them,—so happy, that the young woman felt quite ashamed
of herself; and Becky was fain to remark how her mistress's cheek
flushed, and her eyes sparkled (and turned perpetually to the door),
and her whole little frame was in a flutter.
" I wonder if he will come," said the little heart ; and the eyes
turned and looked at that well-known sofa corner, where he had
been placed a fortnight before. He looked exactly like Lord Byron,
that he did, with his pale brow, and his slim bare neck ; only not
half so wicked—no, no. She was sure that her—her Mr. B _________ ,
her Bran—, her George, was as good as he was beautiful. Don't let
us be angry with her for calling him George ; the girl was bred in
an humble sentimental school ; she did not know enough of society
to be squeamish ; she never thought that she could be his really,
and gave way in the silence of her fancy to the full extent of her
affection for him.
She had not looked at the door above twenty-five times—that is
to say, her parents had not quitted the house ten minutes—when,
sure enough, the latch did rattle, the door opened, and, with a faint
blush on his cheek, divine George entered. He was going to make
some excuse, as on the former occasion; but he looked first into
Caroline's face, which was beaming with joy and smiles ; and the
little thing, in return, regarded him, and—made room for him on
the sofa. 0 sweet instinct of love ! Brandon had no need of
excuses, but sate down, and talked away as easily, happily, and
confidentially, and neither took any note of time. Andrea Fitch
(the sly dog !) witnessed the Gann departure with feelings of exultation,
and had laid some deep plans of his own with regard to Miss
Caroline. So strong was his confidence in his friend on the first
floor, that Andrea actually descended to those apartments, on his.
way to Mrs. Gann's parlour, in order to consult Mr. Brandon, and
make known to him his plan of operations.
It would have made your heart break, or, at the very least, your
sides ache, to behold the countenance of poor Mr. Fitch, as he thrust
his bearded head in at the door of the parlour. There was Brandon
lolling on the sofa, at his ease ; Becky in full good-humour ; and
Caroline, always absurdly inclined to blush, blushing at Fitch's
appearance more than ever ! She could not help looking from him
slily and gently into the face of Mr. Brandon. That gentleman saw
the look, and did not fail to interpret it. It was a confession of
love—an appeal for protection. A thrill of delightful vanity shot
through Brandon's frame, and made his heart throb, as he noticed
this look of poor Caroline. He answered it with one of his own that
was cruelly wrong, cruelly triumphant, and sarcastic; and he