"How like you grow to your mother, my dear," said her aunt, as Mary, with the softness and refinement of that mother's manner, advanced to welcome her. And as she rose to accompany her niece to the carriage she said to herself, "Well, perhaps after all Edward is right--a woman is none the worse for understanding the management of household duties."
One evening Mary was present at a family dinner-party at her uncle Sir James Elston's house in Portland Place. Very little had been said to the old sailor about what Mrs. Armstrong's sisters called the peculiar manner in which Edward Armstrong was educating his daughter, but that little had been met by him with a remark that silenced them--
"Making his girl domestic, is he? Wise man, wise man; that's all I can say."
On this family gathering, Mary, who was now in her sixteenth year, gave sufficient proof that learning to be domestic had not prevented her from becoming accomplished. A young French lady was present with whom Mary conversed with ease in her own tongue.
"You speak with a pure accent, mademoiselle," said the young lady; "have you resided in France?"
"No," was the reply; "but mamma was at school in Paris for years, and she has spoken French to me from my infancy."
In the course of the evening Mary was called upon to accompany her aunt Herbert in a duet for the harp and piano, and in this she succeeded so well as to gain approbation from every one present.
Another unexpected success awaited her. She had attempted to copy on ivory a miniature of her mother painted by Sir George Hayter. It was in truth only the effort of a learner, and by no means so deserving of praise as her studies of heads and landscapes; yet when Mr. Armstrong produced it, framed and reposing in a velvet-lined morocco case, it obtained for her great commendation.
"Oh, papa," said Mary, blushing deeply when she saw it in his hand, "my painting is not worth all that expense."
"I have had it done to show my approval of your conduct, Mary," said her father, in a low voice.
The flush on her face deepened at the words. Mary Armstrong sought for no greater reward than her father's approving smile.
"Well, brother Armstrong," said Colonel Herbert an hour afterwards, when the party were about to separate, "I must congratulate you on the success of your plans. If you are as much satisfied with Mary's exploits in the domestic line as we are with her in other respects, you have no reason to complain of failure."