rose to Lady Helen's pale cheek at these words, it was so
faint as scarcely to be perceivable, and she took no notice, except to
say--
"If your great desire to go to this ball is to be with Caroline the
first night of her _entree_, I should think Mrs. Hamilton was the best
chaperon you could have."
"I tell you, mother, I will not go with her. She has not bewitched me as
she has you and papa. If you would only be quiet for a few hours, I am
sure your head would be sufficiently well for you to go with me; and you
know I never do enjoy an evening so much as when you accompany me, dear
mamma," she continued, softening the violence with which she had at
first spoken into one of the most persuasive eloquence; and humbling her
pride and controlling the contempt with which she ever looked on her
weak but far more principled mother, she knelt on a low stool by her
side, and caressingly kissed Lady Helen's hand.
"Dear mamma, you would oblige me, I am sure you would, if you knew how
much your presence contributes to my enjoyment. A ball is quite a
different thing when I feel I am under your wing, and you know papa
prefers my going out with you to any one else."
Annie spoke truth, though her words appeared but flattery. The extreme
indolence of Lady Helen's natural disposition, which was now heightened
by the lassitude attendant on really failing health, rendered her merely
a chaperon in name. Annie felt very much more at liberty when with her
than with any other; she could act as she pleased, select her own
companions, coquette, talk, dance, without ever thinking of her mother
or being sought for by her, till the end of the evening. It was enough
she was with Lady Helen, to silence all gossiping tongues and to satisfy
her father, who, one of the most devoted members of the Lower House,
scarcely ever visited such places of amusement, and therefore knew not
the conduct of either his wife or daughter. He long since discovered his
authority was as nothing to his children; he felt most painfully his
sternness had alienated their affections, and he now rather shrunk from
their society; therefore, even at home he was a solitary man, and yet
Grahame was formed for all the best emotions, the warmest affections of
our nature. He was ignorant that his wife now very frequently suffered
from ill-health, for he had never seen her conduct different even when
in youth and perfectly well. Had he known this, and also the fact that,
though t
|