TOUCHIT.--Stop! I say, Julia! [She returns, he looks at her, takes her hand.] Why do you dress yourself in this odd poky way? You used to be a very smartly dressed girl. Why do you hide your hair, and wear such a dowdy, high gown, Julia?

JULIA.--You mustn't call me Julia, Captain Touchit.

TOUCHIT.--Why? when I lived in your mother's lodging, I called you Julia. When you brought up the tea, you didn't mind being called Julia.

When we used to go to the play with the tickets the Editor gave us, who lived on the second floor--

JULIA.--The wretch!--don't speak of him!

TOUCHIT.--Ah! I am afraid he was a sad deceiver, that Editor. He was a very clever fellow. What droll songs he used to sing! What a heap of play-tickets, diorama-tickets, concert-tickets, he used to give you! Did he touch your heart, Julia?

JULIA.--Fiddlededee! No man ever touched my heart, Captain Touchit.

TOUCHIT.--What! not even Tom Flight, who had the second floor after the Editor left it--and who cried so bitterly at the idea of going out to India without you? You had a tendre for him--a little pa.s.sion--you know you had. Why, even the ladies here know it. Mrs. Bonnington told me that you were waiting for a sweetheart in India to whom you were engaged; and Lady Kicklebury thinks you are dying in love for the absent swain.

JULIA.--I hope--I hope--you did not contradict them, Captain Touchit.

TOUCHIT.--Why not, my dear?

JULIA.--May I be frank with you? You were a kind, very kind friend to us--to me, in my youth.

TOUCHIT.--I paid my lodgings regularly, and my bills without asking questions. I never weighed the tea in the caddy, or counted the lumps of sugar, or heeded the rapid consumption of my liqueur--

JULIA.--Hush, hush! I know they were taken. I know you were very good to us. You helped my poor papa out of many a difficulty.

TOUCHIT [aside].--Tipsy old coal-merchant! I did, and he helped himself too.

JULIA.--And you were always our best friend, Captain Touchit. When our misfortunes came, you got me this situation with Mrs. Milliken--and, and--don't you see?--

TOUCHIT.--Well--what?

JULIA [laughing].--I think it is best, under the circ.u.mstances, that the ladies here should suppose I am engaged to be married--or or, they might be--might be jealous, you understand. Women are sometimes jealous of others,--especially mothers and mothers-in-law.

TOUCHIT.--Oh, you arch schemer! And it is for that you cover up that beautiful hair of yours, and wear that demure cap?

JULIA [slyly].--I am subject to rheumatism in the head, Captain Touchit.

TOUCHIT.--It is for that you put on the spectacles, and make yourself look a hundred years old?

JULIA.--My eyes are weak, Captain Touchit.

TOUCHIT.--Weak with weeping for Tom Flight. You hypocrite! Show me your eyes!

MISS P.--Nonsense!

TOUCHIT.--Show me your eyes, I say, or I'll tell about Tom Flight and that he has been married at Madras these two years.

MISS P.--Oh, you horrid man! [takes gla.s.ses off.] There.

TOUCHIT.--Translucent orbs! beams of flashing light! lovely lashes veiling celestial brightness! No, they haven't cried much for Tom Flight, that faithless captain! nor for Lawrence O'Reilly, that killing Editor. It is lucky you keep the gla.s.ses on them, or they would transfix Horace Milliken, my friend the widower here. DO you always wear them when you are alone with him?

MISS P.--I never AM alone with him. Bless me! If Lady Kicklebury thought my eyes were--well, well--you know what I mean,--if she thought her son-in-law looked at me, I should be turned out of doors the next day, I am sure I should. And then, poor Mr. Milliken! he never looks at ME--heaven help him! Why, he can't see me for her ladyship's nose and awful caps and ribbons! He sits and looks at the portrait yonder, and sighs so. He thinks that he is lost in grief for his wife at this very moment.

TOUCHIT.--What a woman that was--eh, Julia--that departed angel! What a temper she had before her departure!

MISS P.--But the wind was tempered to the lamb. If she was angry--the lamb was so very lamblike, and meek, and fleecy.

TOUCHIT.--And what a desperate flirt the departed angel was! I knew half a dozen fellows, before her marriage, whom she threw over, because Milliken was so rich.

MISS P.--She was consistent at least, and did not change after marriage, as some ladies do; but flirted, as you call it, just as much as before.

At Paris, young Mr. Verney, the attache, was never out of the house: at Rome, Mr. Beard, the artist, was always drawing pictures of her: at Naples, when poor Mr. M. went away to look after his affairs at St.

Petersburg, little Count Posilippo was for ever coming to learn English and practise duets. She scarcely ever saw the poor children--[changing her manner as Lady KICKLEBURY enters] Hush--my lady!

TOUCHIT.--You may well say, "poor children," deprived of such a woman!

Miss Prior, whom I knew in very early days--as your ladyship knows--was speaking--was speaking of the loss our poor friend sustained.

LADY K.--Ah, sir, what a loss! [looking at the picture.]

TOUCHIT.--What a woman she was--what a superior creature!

LADY K.--A creature--an angel!

TOUCHIT.--Mercy upon us! how she and my lady used to quarrel! [aside.]

What a temper!

LADY K.--Hm--oh, yes--what a temper [rather doubtfully at first].

TOUCHIT.--What a loss to Milliken and the darling children!

MISS PRIOR.--Luckily they have YOU with them madam.

LADY K.--And I will stay with them, Miss Prior; I will stay with them! I will never part from Horace, I am determined.

MISS P.--Ah! I am very glad you stay, for if I had not YOU for a protector, I think you know I must go, Lady Kicklebury. I think you know there are those who would forget my attachment to these darling children, my services to--to her--and dismiss the poor governess. But while you stay I can stay, dear Lady Kicklebury! With you to defend me from jealousy I need not QUITE be afraid.

LADY K.--Of Mrs. Bonnington? Of Mr. Milliken's mother; of the parson's wife who writes out his stupid sermons, and has half a dozen children of her own? I should think NOT indeed! I am the natural protector of these children. I am their mother. I have no husband! You STAY in this house, Miss Prior. You are a faithful, attached creature--though you were sent in by somebody I don't like very much [pointing to TOUCHIT, who went off laughing when JULIA began her speech, and is now looking at prints, &c., in next room].

MISS P.--Captain Touchit may not be in all things what one could wish.

But his kindness has formed the happiness of my life in making me acquainted with YOU, ma'am: and I am sure you would not have me be ungrateful to him.

LADY K.--A most highly principled young woman. [Goes out in garden and walks up and down with Captain TOUCHIT.]

Enter Mrs. BONNINGTON.

MISS P.--Oh, how glad I am you are come, Mrs. Bonnington. Have you brought me that pretty hymn you promised me? You always keep your promises, even to poor governesses. I read dear Mr. Bonnington's sermon!

It was so interesting that I really could not think of going to sleep until I had read it all through; it was delightful, but oh! it's still better when he preaches it! I hope I did not do wrong in copying a part of it? I wish to impress it on the children. There are some worldly influences at work with them, dear madam [looking at Lady K. in the garden], which I do my feeble effort to--to modify. I wish YOU could come oftener.

MRS. B.--I will try, my dear--I will try. Emily has sweet dispositions.

MISS P.--Ah, she takes after her grandmamma Bonnington!