Arnold; and tell
her, she has forgot the hanging-sleeves to the gowns. Let her put them
on out of hand.
I was proceeding--But he rudely, gravely, and even with an air of scorn,
[There was no bearing that, you know,] admonished me. A little less wit,
madam, and a little more discretion, would perhaps better become you.
This was too true to be forgiven. You'll say it, Harriet, if I don't.
And to come from a man that was not overburdened with either--But I had
too great a command of myself to say so. My dependence, my lord, [This I
did say,] is upon your judgment: that will always be a balance to my wit;
and, with the assistance of your reproving love, will in time teach me
discretion.
Now, my dear, was not this a high compliment to him? Ought he not to
have taken it as such? Especially as I looked grave, and dropt him a
very fine courtesy. But either his conscience or his ill-nature,
(perhaps you'll say both,) made him take it as a reflection, [True as you
are alive, Harriet!] He bit his lip. Jenny, begone, said he--Jenny,
don't go, said I--Jenny knew not which to obey. Upon my word, Harriet, I
began to think the man would have cuffed me.--And while he was in his
airs of mock-majesty, I stept to the door, and whipt down to my company.
As married people are not to expose themselves to their friends, (who I
once heard you sagely remark, would remember disagreeable things, when
the honest pair had forgotten them,) I was determined to be prudent.
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