Transcript of Petticoat Government, volume 2
CHAPTER I of Petticoat Government, Volume 2. I am sadly afraid that even amongst the best of us there is a great deal of naughty feeling, even in cases where none of those powerful passions are concerned which, while they make an essential part of the mystical sublimity of man, give him, as Goody Grout says of her grandchildren, more trouble than all his money, even in cases where these meddling agents have nothing to do with the matter, we are very often very far from being amiable. This melancholy thought has been suggested by my innate consciousness of the condition of Miss Barbara Jenkins as I left her at the conclusion of the last chapter, in conjunction with another innate consciousness which is that I shall find it impossible to describe her condition without laughing at her. Yet why, poor soul, should she be laughed at? Her misery was as real upon finding all her bright newborn hopes blighted by Miss Judith's intention of speedily setting off for Rome as those of the prettiest girl of eighteen would be upon learning that her union with the object of her heart's fond love was impeded, delayed, and perhaps frustrated forever. Nay, if the case be quite fairly stated, the condition of Miss Barbara would be found much more pitiable of Vatoo, for the younger lady, however little disposed she might feel to suspend her laments while she confessed the fact, would be conscious in spite of herself and of all her deep sincerity of woe that she was both young and pretty, and there is mitigation of suffering in such consciousness. Yet, nevertheless, the unkind would go on cruelly laughing at a lady in the Jenkins while they heave tender sighs and assume looks benignly pitiful at hearing that some fair young creature in the hopeful mourning of life has lost one of the host of adorers who are destined to feel the sweet influence of her attractions. But the race is not always of a strong nor pity to the most pitiable. How Miss Barbara contrived so far to recover herself as to indicate to the rebellious Judith that the proper thing to be done at that moment was to go into the dining room and sit down to dinner, I know not, but somehow or other it was done. Moreover, Judith wiped away her tears and ate her dinner. Nay, even Miss Barbara ate her dinner too, so true is it that the ordinary business of life will go on, however slight the impulse may seem by which it is propelled, and though movements of almost convulsive violence shall be going on at the same time around us, much as a watch performs its daily task even while tempest -tossed in the Bay of Biscay. The carriage of Mrs. Gilbert was punctual, and Judith was punctually ready to step into it. She had held but little commune with her Aunt Barbara in the interval. Both the ladies had