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159 the dowager’s special property, reiterated her question with an explanation. ‘My dearest, don’t mention governesses; the word makes me nervous. I have suffered a martyrdom from their incompetency and caprice. I thank Heaven I have now done with them!’ Mrs. Dent here bent over to the pious lady, and whispered something in her car; I suppose, from the answer elicited, it was a reminder that one of the anathematised race was present. ‘Tant pis!’ said her ladyship, ‘I hope it may do her good!’ Then, in a lower tone, but still loud enough for me to hear, ‘I noticed her; I am a judge of physiognomy, and in hers I see all the faults of her class.’ ‘What are they, madam?’ inquired Mr. Rochester aloud. ‘I will tell you in your private ear,’ replied she, wagging her turban three times with portentous significancy. ‘But my curiosity will be past its appetite; it craves food now.’ ‘Ask Blanche; she is nearer you than I.’ ‘Oh, don’t refer him to me, mama! I have just one word to say of the whole tribe; they are a nuisance. Not that I ever suffered much from them; I took care to turn the tables. What tricks Theodore and I used to play on our Miss Wilsons, and Mrs. Greys, and Madame Jouberts! Mary was always too sleepy to join in a plot with spirit. The best fun was with Madame Joubert: Miss Wilson was a poor sickly thing, lachrymose and low-spirited, not worth the trouble of vanquishing, in short; and Mrs. Grey was coarse and insensible; no blow took effect on her. But poor Madame Joubert! I see her yet in her raging passions, when we had driven her to extremities-spilt our tea, crumbled our bread and butter, tossed our books up to the ceiling, and played a charivari with the ruler and desk, the fender and fire-irons. Theodore, do you remember those merry days?’ ‘Yaas, to be sure I do,’ drawled Lord Ingram; ‘and the poor old stick used to cry out “Oh you villains childs!”- and then we sermonised her on the presumption of attempting to teach such clever blades as we were, when she was herself so ignorant.’ ‘We did; and, Tedo, you know, I helped you in prosecuting (or persecuting) your tutor, whey-faced Mr. Vining-the parson in the pip, as we used to call him. He and Miss Wilson took the liberty of falling in love with each other-at least Tedo and I thought so; we surprised sundry tender glances and sighs which we interpreted as tokens of “la belle passion,” and I promise you the public soon had the benefit of our discovery; we employed it as a sort of lever to hoist our deadweights from the house. Dear mama, there, as soon as she got an inkling of the business, found out that it was of an immoral tendency. Did you not, my ladymother?’ ‘Certainly, my best. And I |