Meredith, George, 1828-1909 / 2008-07-22 00:00:00

You're dark, I'm fair; we shall suit. And tell me--
hush!--what dreadful long eyes he has! I shall ask you presently what
you think of me. I was never at the Wells before. Dear me! the coach
has turned. How far off shall we hear the bells to say I'm coming? I
know I'm to have bells. Mr. Beamish, Mr. Beamish! I must have a chatter
with a woman, and I'm in awe of you, sir, that I am, but men and men I
see to talk to for a lift of my finger, by the dozen, in my duke's
palace--though they're old ones, that's true--but a woman who's a lady,
and kind enough to be my maid, I haven't met yet since I had the right to
wear a coronet. There, I'll hold Chloe's hand, and that'll do. You
would tell me at once, Chloe, if I was not dressed to your taste; now,
wouldn't you? As for talkative, that's a sign with me of my liking
people. I really don't know what to say to my duke sometimes. I sit and
think it so funny to be having a duke instead of a husband. You're off!'
The duchess laughed at Chloe's laughter. Chloe excused herself, but was
informed by her mistress that it was what she liked.
'For the first two years,' she resumed, 'I could hardly speak a syllable.
I stammered, I reddened, I longed to be up in my room brushing and
curling my hair, and was ready to curtsey to everybody. Now I'm quite at
home, for I've plenty of courage--except about death, and I'm worse about
death than I was when I was a simple body with a gawk's "lawks!" in her
round eyes and mouth for an egg.
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