Dull people neither saw nor felt it.
Bessie Ormiston was not dull, but, being a modest girl, she would
rather not have been stared at; and, being a good girl, she thought
people might be better employed in church: still, she was only a girl,
and it would not be the truth to say she was mortally offended. Did
the person ever exist who was offended at an honest compliment? If
he ever did, he ought to have been fed on sarcasm for the rest of his
days.
Not only was Bessie pretty--she was also rich. A grand-uncle had left
her five thousand pounds, her brothers and sisters getting only one
thousand each. There is no use in asking reasons for this: simply, the
Rose was born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Perhaps, indeed, the
old man did not know he had so much money, for it was as residuary
legatee that Bessie got the five thousand pounds, and it was not
thought she would get anything like that: people remarked, in the
language of the district, which was apt occasionally to be strong and
graphic rather than elegant,--people remarked that "old Ormiston
had cut up well." Five thousand charms added to those Bessie already
possessed--not to mention that her father was a rich man--made her
most miraculously charming: like Tibby Fowler of the Glen, whose
perplexities of this kind have been embalmed in song, she had wealth
of wooers, and wealth, it is well known, makes wit waver.
It is a saying that an Englishman's house is his castle, but the
phrase is understood to be figurative: Mr.
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