Moths by Ouida — page 93: what you’re looking at

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

MOTHS. 89 over from Felicite, when she had been wearied by her dear Dolly’s lamentations, until she felt that even her friendship could not bear them much longer. “But she hates him,” cried Lady Dolly, for the twentieth - ‘time. “They always say that, dear,” answered Lady Stoat, tran- quilly. “They mean it, too, poor little things. It is just as they hated their lessons: yet they did their lessons, dear, and are all the better for having done them. You seem to me to attach sadly too much importance to a child’s bouwtades.”’ “If it were only boutades! But you do not know Vere.” “I cannot think, dear, that your child can be so very ex- traordinarily unlike the rest of the human species,” said her friend, with her pleasant smile. ‘‘Well, I will go and see this young monster. She has always seemed to me a little Puritan, nothing worse; and that you should have been prepared for, leaving her all her life at Bulmer Chase.’’ Lady Stoat then went up-stairs and knocked at the door of Vere’s chamber, and entered with the soft, silent charm of movement which was one of the especial graces of that graceful gentlewoman. She kissed the girl tenderly, regardless that Vere drew herself away somewhat rudely, and then sank down in a chair. “My child, do you know I am come to talk to you quite frankly and affectionately?” she said, in her gentle, slow voice. “You know what friendship has always existed between -your dear mother and myself, and you will believe that your wel- fare is dear to me for her sake—very dear.” Vere looked at her, but did not speak. “An uncomfortable girl,’ thought Lady Stoat, a little dis- comfited, but she resumed blandly, “Your mamma has brought me some news that is very pleasant to hear, and gives me sincere happiness, because by it your happiness, and through yours, hers is secured. My own dear daughter is only two years older than you are, Vere, and she is married, as you know, and ah! so happy!” “Happy, with the Duke of Birkenhead 2” said Vere, abruptly. Lady Stoat was, for the moment, a little staggered. “What a very unpleasant child!” she thought; “and who would think she knew anything about poor Birk!” “Very happy,’’ she continued, aloud, “and I am charmed to think, my dear, that you have the chance of being equally so. Your mamma tells me, love, that you are a little—a little— bewildered at so brilliant a proposal of marriage as Prince Zouroft’s. That is a very natural feeling; of course you had never thought about any such thing.” “T had not thought about it,” said Vere, bluntly. “I have thought now); but I do not understand why he can want such a thing. He knows very well that I do not like him. If you will tell him for me that I do not, I shall be glad; my mother will never tell him plainly enough. ie “My sweet Vere,” said Lady Stout, smilingly, “nray do not give me the mission of breaking my host’s heart; Twould as soon - break his china, Of course your mamma will not scomicbooks a