The things we do!

Mason.
But the enfant terrible, young Alfred, did: announcing to all the company
at dessert, that Ethel was in love with Clive--that Clive was coming to
marry her--that Mrs. Mason, the old woman at Newcome, had told him so.
"I dare say she has told the tale all over Newcome!" shrieked out Mr.
Barnes. "I dare say it will be in the Independent next week. By Jove,
it's a pretty connexion--and nice acquaintances this uncle of ours brings
us!" A fine battle ensued upon the receipt and discussion of this
intelligence: Barnes was more than usually bitter and sarcastic: Ethel
haughtily recriminated, losing her temper, and then her firmness, until,
fairly bursting into tears, she taxed Barnes with meanness and malignity
in for ever uttering stories to his cousin's disadvantage, and pursuing
with constant slander and cruelty one of the very best of men. She rose
and left the table in great tribulation--she went to her room and wrote a
letter to her uncle, blistered with tears, in which she besought him not
to come to Newcome.


Pages:
451 452 453 454 455 456 457 458 459 460 461 462 463 464 465 466 467 468 469 470 471 472 473 474 475