There were
so many people whom Lady Laura insisted upon introducing to her dear
Clarissa--there was so much in the way of party-giving that Lady Laura
wanted her sweet Mrs. Granger to do. Now it was a morning concert of my
lady's planning, at which weird and wonderful-looking denizens of the
Norseland--Poles, Hungarians, Danes, and Swedes--with unkempt hair and
fierce flashing eyes, performed upon every variety of native instrument, or
sang wild national songs in some strange language--concerts to which Lady
Laura brought herds of more or less fashionable people, all of whom were
languishing to know "that sweet Mrs. Granger." My lady had taken pains to
advertise her share in the manufacturer's marriage. Every one belonging to
her set knew that the match was her contriving, and that Clarissa had to
thank the mistress of Hale Castle for her millionaire husband. She was
really proud of her protegee's success, and was never tired of praising her
and "that admirable Granger."
That admirable Granger endured the accession of party-giving with a very
good grace. It pleased him to see his wife admired; it pleased him still
more to see her happy; and he was single-minded enough to believe her
increased volatility a symptom of increased happiness. Whatever undefined
regrets and dim forebodings there might be lurking in his own mind, he had
no doubt of his wife's integrity--no fear of hidden perils in this ordeal
of fashionable life.
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