Marriage. Susan Ferrier
of all the efforts that could be made to suppress it, the royal _cough _burst forth with a violence that threatened to silence its brave owner for ever.
"It's very strange you will talk, my love," said his sympathising lady, as she supported him; "talking never did, nor never will agree with you; it's very strange what pleasure people take in talking—humph!"
"Is there anything dear Sir Sampson could take?" asked Miss Grizzy.
"Could take? I don't know what you mean by could take. He couldn't take the moon, if you meant hat; but he must take what I give him; so call Philistine; he knows where my cough tincture is."
"Oh, we have plenty of it in this press," said Miss Grizzy, flying to a cupboard, and, drawing forth a bottle, she poured out a bumper, and presented it to Sir Sampson.
"I'm poisoned!" gasped he feebly; "that's not my lady's cough-tincture."
"Not cough-tincture!" repeated the horror-struck doctress, as for the first time she examined the label; "Oh! I declare, neither it is—it's my own stomach lotion. Bless me, what will be done?" and she wrung her hands in despair. "Oh, Murdoch," flying to the Philistine, as he entered with the real cough-tincture, "I've given Sir Sampson a dose of my own stomach lotion by mistake, and I am terrified for the consequences!"
"Oo, but hur need na be feared, hur will no be a hair the war o't; for hurs wad na tak' the feesick that the leddie ordered hur yestreen."
"Well, I declare things are wisely ordered," observed Miss Grizzy; "in that case it may do dear Sir Sampson a great deal of good."
Just as this pleasing idea was suggested, Douglas and his father entered, and the ceremony of presenting her nephew to her friend was performed by Miss Grizzy in her most conciliating manner.
"Dear Lady Maclaughlan, this is our nephew Henry, who, I know, has the
highest veneration for Sir Sampson and you. Henry, I assure you, Lady
Maclaughlan takes the greatest interest in everything that concerns Lady
Juliana and you."
"Humph!" rejoined her ladyship, as she surveyed him from head to foot.
"So your wife fell in love with you, it seems; well, the more fool she;
I never knew any good come of love marriages."
Douglas coloured, while he affected to laugh at this extraordinary address, and withdrawing himself from her scrutiny, resumed his station by the side of his Juliana.
"Now, girls, I must go to my toilet; which of you am I to have for my handmaid?"
"Oh, we'll all go," eagerly exclaimed the three nymphs; "our dear niece will excuse us for a little; young people are never at a loss to amuse one another."
"Venus and the Graces, by Jove!" exclaimed Sir Sampson, bowing with an air of gallantry; "and now I must go and adonise a little myself."
The company then separated to perform the important offices of the toilet.
CHAPTER X.
"Nature here
Wanton'd as in her prime, and played at will
Her virgin fancies."
MILTON.
THE gentlemen were already assembled round the drawing-room fire, impatiently waiting the hour of dinner, when Lady Maclaughlan and her three friends entered. The masculine habiliments of the morning had been exchanged for a more feminine costume. She was now arrayed in a pompadour satin négligée, and petticoat trimmed with Brussels lace. A high starched handkerchief formed a complete breast work, on which, amid a large bouquet of truly artificial roses, reposed a miniature of Sir Sampson, à la militaire. A small fly cap of antique lace was scarcely perceptible on the summit of a stupendous frizzled toupee, hemmed in on each side by large curls. The muff and stick had been relinquished for a large fan, something resembling an Indian screen, which she waved to and fro in one hand, while a vast brocaded workbag was suspended from the other.
"So, Major Douglas, your servant," said she, in answer to the constrained formal bow with which he saluted her on her entrance. "Why, it's so long since I've seen you that you may be a grandfather for ought I know."
The poor awkward Misses at that moment came sneaking into the room: "As for you, girls, you'll never be grandmothers; you'll never be married, unless to wild men of the woods. I suppose you'd like that; it would save you the trouble of combing your hair, and tying your shoes, for then you could go without clothes altogether—humph! You'd be much better without clothes than to put them on as you do," seizing upon the luckless Miss Baby, as she endeavoured to steal behind backs.
And here, in justice to the lady, it must be owned that, for once, she had some grounds for animadversion in the dress and appearance of the Misses Douglas.
They had stayed out, running races and riding on a pony, until near the dinner hour; and, dreading their father's displeasure should they be too late, they had, with the utmost haste, exchanged their thick morning dresses for thin muslin gowns, made by a mantua-maker of the neighbourhood in the extreme of a two-year-old fashion, when waists were not.
But as dame Nature had been particularly lavish in the length of theirs, and the stay-maker had, according to their aunt's direction, given them full measure of their new dark stays, there existed a visible breach between the waists of their gowns and the bands of their petticoats, which they had vainly sought to adjust by a meeting. Their hair had been curled, but not combed, and dark gloves had been hastily drawn on to hide red arms.
"I suppose," continued the stern Lady Maclaughlan, as she twirled her victim round and round; "I suppose you think yourself vastly smart and well dressed. Yes, you are very neat, very neat indeed; one would suppose Ben Jonson had you in his eye when he composed that song." Then in a voice like thunder, she chanted forth—
"Give me a look, give me a face
That makes simplicity a grace;
Robes loosely flowing, hair as free,
Such sweet neglect more taketh me."
Miss Grizzy was in the utmost perplexity between her inclination to urge something in extenuation for the poor girls, and her fear of dissenting from Lady Maclaughlan, or rather of not immediately agreeing with her; she therefore steered, as usual, the middle course, and kept saying, "Well, children, really what Lady Maclaughlan says is all very true; at the same time"—turning to her friend—"I declare it's not much to be wondered at; young people are so thoughtless, poor lambs!"
"What's aw this wark aboo?" said the old gentleman angrily; "the girlies are weel eneugh; I see naething the matter wi' them; they're no dresse like auld queens or stage-actresses;" and he glance his eye from Lady Maclaughlan to his elegant daughter-in-law, who just then entered, hanging, according to custom, on her husband, and preceded by Cupid.
Mrs. Douglas followed, and the sound of the dinner bell put a stop to the dispute.
"Come, my leddie, we'll see how the dinner's dressed," said the Laird, as he seized Lady Maclaughlan by the tip of the finger, and holding it up aloft, they marched into the dining room.
"Permit me, my Lady Juliana Douglas," said the little Baronet, with much difficulty hobbling towards her, and attempting to take her hand. "Come, Harry, love; here, Cupid," cried she; and without noticing the enraged Sir Sampson, she passed on, humming a tune, and leaning upon her husband.
"Astonishing! perfectly astonishing!" exclaimed the Baronet; "how a young woman of Lady Juliana's rank and fashion should be guilty of such a solecism in good breeding."
"She is very young," said Mrs. Douglas, smiling, as he limped along with her, "and you must make allowances for