Rosamond.
“Why do you say ‘poor Rosamond’?” said Mrs. Plymdale, a round-eyed sharp little woman, like a tamed falcon.
“She is so pretty, and has been brought up in such thoughtlessness. The mother, you know, had always that levity about her, which makes me anxious for the children.”
“Well, Harriet, if I am to speak my mind,” said Mrs. Plymdale, with emphasis, “I must say, anybody would suppose you and Mr. Bulstrode would be delighted with what has happened, for you have done everything to put Mr. Lydgate forward.”
“Selina, what do you mean?” said Mrs. Bulstrode, in genuine surprise.
“Not but what I am truly thankful for Ned’s sake,” said Mrs. Plymdale. “He could certainly better afford to keep such a wife than some people can; but I should wish him to look elsewhere. Still a mother has anxieties, and some young men would take to a bad life in consequence. Besides, if I was obliged to speak, I should say I