Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 97: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

84, JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. the most sombre appearance. There was a tall narrow portico, formed of two lanky pillars, sup- porting a peaked piece of masonry ; and the ascent into the entrance-hall consisted only of two steps —so that there was nothing imposing in the first impression thus made by Myrtle Lodge upon the mind ofastranger. The hall itself was spacious, but dark and mournful: it had a huge oaken staircase, with massive balustrades; and what might be termed the rail of these was at least eight inches in width. The doors opening from this hall, were low and deep-set; and a profound silence appeared to reign throughout the building. “ John Robert,” said her ladyship, stopping in the middle of this great hall, and turning slowly round to confront the solemn-looking footman ; “T hope that if I on this occasion pardon your grievous delinquency, you will not provoke my wrath again. Don’t answer me, John Robert: but go and see that those dear pets are properly fed. They must be tired to death after your cruelty in making them walk. Now, boy,” she added, with a stately gesture of the right arm, and an accompanying wave of the old faded parasol, “follow me !” Lady Georgiana Tiverton led the way into a parlour; while the unfortunate footman heaved ' another profound sigh, and looked as rueful as if he were going to be hanged, while he toiled along with the fat dogs under his arms. The room in which I now found myself, was, as I had expected, of the most sombre aspect,—the dra- _ peries dark and heavy, without richness of mate- rial or elegance of arrangement—the furniture old, cumbrous, and massive—the carpet faded everywhere, and darned in many places—the pictures with huge dingy dusty frames—nothing light nor cheerful to relieve the cold and gloomy appearance of the spacious apartment. At a work-table sat a short, thin, very plain-looking female, in a rusty black silk dress—a not over clean cap, with faded blue ribbons—and an old dingy-hued scarf, thrown over her shoulders. She wore mittens—and was knitting. She was about five years younger than Lady Georgiana ; but had a similarly old-maidish look. This, however, instead of being blended with aris- tocratic pride, was full of the most abject humility—as if she could not rightly say whether her soul was her own or not, were she questioned on the subject. The moment Lady Georgiana entered the room, this lady threw down her knit- ting—darted up from her seat—and deferentially expressing a hope that her ladyship had enjoyed her walk, helped to take off her bonnet and shawl. “No, Miss. Dakin, I have ot enjoyed my walk,” was the sternly severe response, delivered as if Lady Georgiana was both surprised and indignant at the bare idea that she could have taken any pleasure in a ramble which was so cruelly spoilt by the conduct of the footman, and likewise as if she thought that Miss Dakin ought to have known, by some magical intuition on her part, that the walk had been thus spoilt. “That deceitful man John Robert Ne “Well my dear Lady Georgiana,” exclaimed Miss Dakin, “I always knew he was deceitful.” “And yet it was only this morning at break- aye responded the lady, “you were praising im,” “Ah! because your ladyship was pleased with him then,” was Miss Dakin’s immediate rejoinder. “ But what has the good-for-nothing fellow been doing ?’—and she looked quite concerned, as if fully prepared for some awful narrative of John Robert’s atrocity. “You know, Miss Dakin, that this man who has such good wages and is treated so kindly, has positive orders to carry dear Flora under one arm and dear Rosa under the other ?” “T know how good your ladyship is to that man,” ejaculated Miss Dakin,—“‘ as you are to all the servants who are happy enough to enter your household.” I was rather encouraged by this remark ; and I even began to think that Jchn Robert’s conduct in respect to the dogs must have been very ungrate- ful towards so excellent a mistress. Her ladyship, having by this time given her bonnet and shawl— not forgetting the old parasol—to Miss Dakin, was reminded of my presence; and instead of con- tinuing her doleful narrative of complaint in respect to John Robert, she sat herself down in a very formal and solemn manner to catechise me. Miss Dakin rang the bell: the summons was answered by a thin, prim-looking lady’s-maid, of “a certain age ;”—so that I began to fancy all the persons at Myrtle Lodge must be of Pharoah’s lean kind. To this dependant the bonnet, shawl, and parasol were consigned, with strict and em- phatic injunctions on Miss Dakin’s part, to put them away carefully; and then she resumed her seat and her knitting at the work-table. “Now, boy, I will make time to say a few words to you,” began Lady Georgiana. ‘‘ What is your name P and how old are you?” “Joseph Wilmot, please your ladyship—and I am a few months past sixteen.” “The name is not bad,” said Lady Georgiana, addressing the observation to Miss Dakin. “Not at all, your ladyship,” responded the latter: and as she thought the mistress of the mansion was pleased and satisfied, she ventured to smile. “And yet it might be better: for Joseph, you know, can be abbreviated into Joe; and nothing can be so vulgar as Old Joe or Young Joe. Both are execrable !” “Execrable indeed!’ answered Miss Dakin, now suddenly looking serious, and even ominous— as if she thought the name must be a drawback to my eligibility: for it was by this time tolerably apparent that it was a part of Miss Dakin’s duty to echo all her ladyship’s opinions, and to take her cue in everything from this supreme authority. “ Well, we will not make the name an objection,” continued her ladyship: “the age suits.” “The age is most admirably adapted,” said Miss Dakin. “ And yet his height might be a little less,” re- marked Lady Georgiana thoughtfully. “True ! it might,” observed Miss Dakin, slowly shaking her head, as if the objection struck her forcibly. “But we will pass over the height. Now about the character. To whom do you refer me, Joseph Wilmot?” demanded the mistress of Myr- tle Lodge. “ Please your ladyship, I have a written charac- ter with me * GomiGaooks (CO) AA