She and I | Page 8

rose-coloured view of life. No matter what vivid touches the
great painter puts in on the canvas of their every-day being, they always
remain mentally colour-blind, and perceive but one monotonous neutral
tint--as they will continue to do until the end, when, perchance, their
proper sight may be restored.
Lady Dasher was one of these. She persisted in taking a despondent
view of everything around her--her past, her future, her position, her
prospects; nay, even the circumstances and surroundings of her friends

and few intimates came to be regarded in the same unsatisfactory light.
She was unacquainted with the healthy tone of wisdom contained in the
old quatrain,--
"That man, I trow, is doubly blest, Who of the worst can make the best;
And he, I'm sure, is doubly curst, Who of the best doth make the
worst!"
Morbid and melancholic had been her disposition at the
commencement of the chapter:--morbid and melancholic she would
naturally remain to its close.
With all her morbidity, however, she took a wonderful, albeit
lachrymose, interest in the temporal matters of the parish; and was
acquainted with most of the contemporary facts and incidents with
which her neighbours were mixed up, being mostly indebted for her
information, as she seldom went out herself, to her daughters Bessie
and Seraphine-- the latter commonly known amongst audacious young
men as "the Seraph," on account of her petite figure, her blue eyes, and
her musical voice, the latter having just a suspicion of Irish brogue and
blarney about it.
They were nice lively girls and much liked, as they were quite a
contrast to their mother. Indeed, it was surprising, considering her
disposition and their bringing up, that they were what they were. Had it
not been for them, Lady Dasher's existence would have been
considerably more monotonous and dreary than it was; but, thanks to
their assistance, she was kept thoroughly "posted up" in all the social
life going on in her midst, in which, through her own lache, she was
unable to take part.
Bessie and Seraphine did not attend parties, although sprightly, taking
girls like themselves would have been welcomed in almost any circle.
The fact was, people would have been glad enough to invite them, had
their mother not been jealous of any attention paid to her daughters that
was not extended to herself; and, hospitable as their friends might be, it
was but reasonable that a monument of grief and picture of woe
unutterable should not be earnestly sought after for the centre-piece of a

social gathering. It was owing to the same reason, also, that neither of
the girls had yet got married; for Lady Dasher would certainly have
expected any matrimonial proposal to have been made to herself in the
first instance, when, after declining the honour, she could have passed
the handkerchief to her daughters. Besides, the mere dread of having
the infliction of such a mother-in-law would have sufficed to frighten
off the most ardent wooer or rabid aspirant for connubial felicity.
Notwithstanding this, the girls went about to some extent in their own
ways; and, on their return home, naturally gossiped with their mother
over all they had seen and heard abroad. Thus it was that Lady Dasher
was so well-informed in all local matters, and why I thought of
appealing to her aid. But I should have to manage cautiously. She
would think nothing--she was such a simple-minded body--of detailing
all your inquiries to the very subject of them, in a fit of unguarded
confidence. Cross-examining her was a most diplomatic proceeding. If
you went the right way about it, you could get anything out of her
without committing yourself in the slightest way; whereas, if you set to
work wrongly, you might not only be foundered by a provoking
reticence, which she could assume at times, but might, also, some day
hear that your secret intentions and machiavellian conduct were the
common talk of the parish.
Lady Dasher, although of a strictly pious turn of mind, did not object to
Sunday callers. Good. I would go there that very afternoon after lunch,
and see how the land lay.
I kept my resolve, and went.
Ushered into the well-known little drawing-room of the corner house of
The Terrace, whose windows had a commanding view of the main
thoroughfare of our suburb, I had ample leisure, before the ladies
appeared, of observing the arrangement of certain fuchsias in a monster
flower-stand that took up half the room, on the growth and excellence
of which Lady Dasher prided herself greatly. Praise her fuchsias, and
you were the most excellent of men; pass them by unnoticed, and you
might be capable of committing the worst sin in the decalogue.

Is it not curious, how particular scents of flowers and their appearance
will