Chapter 9 Chapter Eight Entering the Social World for the First Time

At eighteen Miss Murray would pass from the quiet, unobtrusive classroom into the glitzy world of high society—at least as much as anywhere else outside London.No one could persuade her father to leave his country pastimes and amusements.He didn't even want to live in the city for a few weeks.On January 3rd she was going to "go into society for the first time" with a lavish ball.The ball was proposed by her mother, and all the nobles and selected gentlemen and ladies were invited to O and twenty miles around it.Of course she was looking forward to that day with great impatience, and had high hopes for the joy of the ball.

One evening, a month before the big day, I was reading a very interesting long letter from my sister--only skimmed it in the morning, knowing that there was nothing particularly bad news in it, and never had time to read it. Watch it quietly and stay until now. "Miss Gray," she cried, "Miss Gray, put away this dull, dull letter, and listen to me! I'm sure I've got a lot more fun to say than what's written in it." She sat down on a small stool at my feet.Suppressing an annoyed sigh, I began to fold the letter. "You ought to tell the good people of your house not to bore you with such long letters," she said, "and above all tell them to use official paper and not this vulgar big letter. You should Look at the lovely little dame's letterhead my mother used to write to her friends."

"The good people of my family," I answered, "know very well that the longer their letters are, the happier I am. If any of them sends me the kind written in lovely, ladylike little I don't feel sorry for letters on letterhead. Miss Murray, I think you are too much of a lady. You call someone 'vulgar' when they write on big letter paper!" "Well, well, I'm only kidding you when I say that. But I'm going to talk about the ball now. I tell you that your vacation must be postponed until after the ball." "Why is that?—I don't go to the ball."

"No, but you can see the arrangement of the rooms before the ball, listen to the music, and most importantly, see me in my beautiful new clothes. I will be very charming, and you will be willing to be My admirer - you really can't go." "I do want to see you very much, but there will be many balls and parties to come, and I will have many opportunities to see you equally charming. I cannot put off my trip so long, or my loved ones will be disappointed of." "Oh, don't think of your loved ones! Tell them we won't let you go." "But, to be honest, I would be disappointed myself. I longed to see them as much as they longed to see me—perhaps more than they thought."

"Come on, isn't it just a few days?" "I figured it was almost two weeks. Besides, I can't bear the thought of not being home for Christmas; plus my sister is getting married." "Is it—when?" "Next month, but I want to go back and help her get ready and spend as many days with her as possible before she gets married." "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" "I only found out after reading this letter. Just now you scolded it as boring and boring, and didn't let me read it." "Who is she going to marry?"

"And Mr. Richardson, who is vicar of a parish near my house." "Is he rich?" "No, I can only say that it's quite ample." "Is he handsome?" "No, I can only say that it is quite generous." "Young?" "No, it can only be said that it is not too old." "Oh, dear! What unfortunate people. How's their house?" "A small, quiet vicarage, with an ivy-covered porch, an old-fashioned garden, and..." "Okay, okay, don't talk about it! I'm going to be sick again. How can she bear such a condition?"

"I think she would not only bear it, but be quite happy. You didn't ask me if Mr. Richardson was kind, or intelligent, or amiable. If you had asked those questions, I would have answered you with a 'yes.'— At least that's what Mary thinks, and I hope she won't feel wrong in the future." "But—poor thing! How can she imagine herself living in such a place, chained to such a loathsome old man, with no hope of changing it?" "He is not old, he is only thirty-six or seven years old, and my sister is already twenty-eight years old, and her simple appearance looks like a fifty-year-old."

"Oh! that's all right—they'd be a good match. But don't they call him 'The Reverend Reverend'?" "I don't know, but if people do call him that, I'm sure he deserves it." "My God, how dreadful! Will she wear a white apron and make pies and puddings?" "Wearing a white apron or not, I don't know, but I dare say she can make pies and puddings sometimes. It's not such a hard job, because she's done it before." "Would she have put on a plain scarf and a big straw hat, with pamphlets and bone broth, and distributed them to the poor in her husband's parish?"

"Well, I don't know. But I dare say she will follow our mother's example, and try to comfort the poor of the parish, both physically and mentally."