"Frank is no prize," said his mother with some irony.
"I knew you would say that, dear Mrs. Poynsett. Pecuniarily speaking, of course, he is not; though as to all qualities of the heart and head, he is a prize in the true sense of the word. But, alas! it is a sort of necessity that poor Lena, if she marry at all, should marry to liberal means. I tell you candidly that she has not been brought up as she ought to have been, considering her expectations or no expectations. What could you expect of my poor father, with his habits, and two mere girls? I don't know whether the governess could have done anything; but I know that it was quite time I appeared. I tell you in confidence, dear Mrs. Poynsett, there was a heavy pull on my own purse before I could take them away from Rockpier; and, without blaming a mere child like poor dear Lena you can see what sort of preparation she has had for a small income."
It is hard to say which tried Mrs. Poynsett's patience most, the 'dears' or the candour; and the spirit of opposition probably prompted her to say, "Frank has his share, like his brothers."
"I understand, and for many girls the provision would be ample; but poor Lena has no notion of economizing-how should she? I am afraid there is no blinking it, that, dear children as they both are, nothing but wretchedness could result from their corning together; and thus I have been extremely sorry to find that the affair has been renewed."
"It was not an unnatural result of their meeting again."
"Ah! there I was to blame again; but no one can judge whether an attachment be real between such children. I thought, too, that Frank would be gone out into the world, and I confess I did not expect to find that he had absolutely addressed her, and kept it secret. That is what my poor father feels so much. Eleonora is his special darling, and he says he could have overlooked anything but the concealment."
Maternal affection assumed the defensive; and, though the idea of concealment on the part of one of her sons was a shock, Mrs. Poynsett made no betrayal of herself, merely asking, "How did it come to light?"
"I extorted the confession. I think I was justified, standing in a mother's position, as I do. I knew my vigilance had been eluded, and that your son had walked home with her after the skating; and you know very well how transparent young things are."
The skating! The mother at once understood that Frank was only postponing the explanation till after his examination; and besides, she had never been ignorant of his attachment, and could not regard any display thereof more or less as deception towards herself. The very fact that Lady Tyrrell was trying to prejudice her beforehand, so as to deprive him of the grace of taking the initiative towards his own mother, enlisted her feelings in his defence, so she coldly answered, "I am sorry if Sir Harry Vivian thinks himself unfairly treated; but I should have thought my son's feelings had been as well known in the one family as in the other."
"But, dear Mrs. Poynsett," exclaimed Lady Tyrrell, "I am sure you never encouraged them. I am quite enough aware-whatever I may once have been-of the unfortunate contrast between our respective families."
Certainly there was no connection Mrs. Poynsett less wished to encourage; yet she could not endure to play into Camilla' hands, and made reply, "There are many matters in which young men must judge for themselves. I have only once see Miss Vivian, and have no means of estimating my son's chance of happiness with her."
Her impenetrability ruffled Lady Tyrrell; but the answer was softer than ever. "Dear Mrs. Poynsett, what a happy mother you are, to be able so freely to allow your sons to follow their inclinations! Well! since you do not object, my conscience is easy on that score; but it was more than I durst hope."
To have one's approval thus stolen was out of the question and Mrs. Poynsett said, "Regret is one thing, opposition another. Sir Harry Vivian need not doubt that, when my son's position is once fixed, he will speak openly and formally, and it will then be time to judge."
"Only," said Lady Tyrrell, rising, "let this be impressed on your son. Eleonora cannot marry till she is of age, and my father cannot sanction any previous entanglement. Indeed it is most unfortunate, if her affections have been tampered with, for me, who have outgrown romance, and know that, in her position, a wealthy match is a necessity. I have spoken candidly," she repeated; "for I like Frank too well to bear that he should be trifled with and disappointed."
"Thank you!"
The ladies parted, liking one another, if possible, less than before.
Mrs. Poynsett's instinct of defence had made her profess much less distaste to the marriage than she really felt; she was much concerned that another son should be undergoing Raymond's sad experiences, but she had no fear that Lady Tyrrell would ever allow it to come to a marriage, and she did not think Frank's poetical enthusiasm and admiration for beauty betokened a nature that would suffer such an enduring wound as Raymond's had done.
So she awaited his return, without too much uneasiness for amusement in Rosamond's preparations. One opening into the conservatory was through her room, so that every skilful device, or gay ornament, could be exhibited to her; and she much enjoyed the mirth that went on between the queen of the revels and her fellow-workers.
Cecil did not interfere, being indeed generally with her friends at Sirenwood, Aucuba Villa, or the working-room, in all of which she had the pleasure of being treated as a person of great consideration, far superior to all her natural surroundings, and on whom hinged all the plans for the amelioration of Willansborough.
Sometimes, however, it happens that the other side of a question is presented; and thus it was on the day before the entertainment, when Rosamond had taken her brother Tom to have his hair cut, and to choose some false moustaches, and the like requisites for their charades.
They went first to Pettitt's, the little hair-dresser, where Tom was marvellously taken with the two Penates, and could hardly be dragged into the innermost recesses, where in the middle of a sheet, with a peignoir on his shoulders, he submitted to the clipping of his raven-black locks, as Mr. Pettitt called them, on the condition of his sister looking on.
Presently they heard some feet enter the outer shop, and Mrs. Duncombe's voice asking for Mr. Pettitt; while his mother replied that he would wait on her immediately, but that he was just now engaged with the Honourable Mr. De Lancey. "Could she show them anything?"
"Oh no, thank you, we'll wait! Don't let us keep you, Mrs. Pettitt, it is only on business."
"Ay!" said the other voice-female, and entirely untamed. "He's your great ally about your gutters and drains, isn't he?"
"The only landowner in Wil'sbro' who has a particle of public spirit!" said Mrs. Duncombe.
Whereat good-natured Lady Rosamond could not but smile congratulation to the hair-cutter, who looked meekly elevated, while Tom whispered, "Proverb contradicted."
But the other voice replied, "Of course-he's a perfumer, learned in smells! You'd better drop it, Bessie! you'll never make anything of it."
"I'll never drop what the health and life of hundreds of my fellow-creatures depend on! I wish I could make you understand, Gussie!"
"You'll never do anything with my governor, if that's your hope-you should hear him and the mum talking! 'It's all nonsense,' he says; 'I'm not going to annoy my tenants, and make myself unpopular, just to gratify a fashionable cry.' 'Well,' says mumsey, 'it is not what was thought the thing for ladies in my time; but you see, if Gussie goes along with it, she will have the key to all the best county society.' 'Bother the county society!' says I. 'Bessie Duncombe's jolly enough-but such a stuck-up set as they all are at Compton, I'll not run after, behaving so ill to the governor, too!' However-"
"There's a proverb about listeners!" said Rosamond, emerging when she felt as if she ought to hearken no longer, and finding Mrs. Duncombe leaning with her back to the counter, and a tall girl, a few degrees from beauty, in a riding-habit, sitting upon it.
They both laughed; and the girl added, "If you had waited a moment, Lady Rosamond, you would have heard that you were the only jolly one of al
l the b'iling!"
"Ah! we shall see where you are at the end of Mrs. Tallboys' lectures!" said Mrs. Duncombe.
"On what?" asked Rosamond. "Woman's rights, or sanitary measures? for I can't in the least understand why they should be coupled up together."
"Nor I!" said Miss Moy. "I don't see why we shouldn't have our own way, just as well as the men; but what that has to do with drains and gutters, I can't guess."
"I'm the other way," said Rosamond. "I think houses and streets ought to be made clean and healthy; but as for woman's rule, I fancy we get more of it now than we should the other way."
"As an instance," said Mrs. Duncombe, "woman is set on cleansing Wil'sbro'. Man will not stir. Will it ever be done till woman has her way?"
"Perhaps, if woman would be patient, man would do it in the right way, instead of the wrong!" quoth Rosamond.
"Patient! No, indeed! Nothing is to be done by that! Let every woman strive her utmost to get the work done as far as her powers go, and the crusade will be accomplished for very shame!"
Just then Tom, looking highly amused, emerged, followed by Mr. Pettitt, the only enlightened landlord on whom Mrs. Duncombe had been able to produce the slightest impression. He had owned a few small tenements in Water Lane, which he was about to rebuild, and which were evidently the pivot of operations.
At the door they met Cecil, and Rosamond detained her a moment in the street to say, "My dear Cecil, is that Miss Moy coming on Wednesday?"
"Of course she is. We greatly want to move her father. He has the chief house property there."
"It is too late now," said Rosamond; "but do you think it can be pleasant to Jenny Bowater to meet her?"
"I know nothing of the old countrified animosities and gossipings, which you have so heartily adopted," replied Cecil, proudly. "Firstly, I ignore them as beneath me; secondly, I sacrifice them all to a great cause. If Miss Bowater does not like my guests, let her stay away."
Here Mrs. Duncombe stood on the step, crying out, "Well, Cecil, how have you sped with Mrs. Bungay?"
"Horrid woman!" and no more was heard, as Cecil entered Mr. Pettitt's establishment.
"That might be echoed," said Tom, who was boiling over at the speech to his sister. "I knew that ape was an intolerable little prig of a peacock, but I didn't think she could be such a brute to you, Rosie! Is she often like that, and does your parson stand such treatment of you?"
"Nonsense, Tom!" said Rosamond; "it doesn't often happen, and breaks no bones when it does. It's only the ignorance of the woman, and small blame to her-as Mrs. M'Kinnon said when Corporal Sims's wife threw the red herring's tail at her!"
"But does Julius stand it?" repeated Tom, fiercely, as if hesitating whether to call out Julius or Mrs. Charnock Poynsett.
"Don't be so ridiculous, Tom! I'd rather stand a whole shower of red herrings' tails at once than bother Julius about his brother's wife. How would you and Terry like it, if your wives took to squabbling, and setting you together by the ears? I was demented enough to try it once, but I soon saw it was worse than anything."
"What? He took her part?"
"No such thing! Hold your tongue, Tommy, and don't talk of married folk till you're one yourself!"
"Papa never meant it," repeated the indignant Tom. "I've a great mind to write and tell him how you are served!"
"Now, Tom," cried Rosamond, stopping short, "if you do that, I solemnly declare I'll never have you here again! What could papa do? Do you think he could cure Raymond's wife of being a ridiculous little prig? And if he could-why, before your letter got to Meerut, she will be gone up to London; and by the time she comes back we'll be safe in our own Rectory. Here, come in, and get our string and basket at Mrs. Bungay's."
"I'll pay her out!" muttered Tom, as he followed his sister into Mrs. Bungay's shop, one of much smaller pretensions, for the sale of baskets, brushes, mats, &c.
The mistress, a stout, red-faced woman, looked as if she had been 'speaking a bit of her mind,' and was at first very gruff and ungracious, until she found they were real customers; and moreover, Tom's bland Irish courtesy perfectly disarmed her, when Rosamond, having fixed her mind on a box in the very topmost pigeon-hole, they not only apologized for the trouble they were giving, but Tom offered to climb up and bring it down, when she was calling for the errand-boy in vain.
"It's no trouble, sir, thank you; I'd think nothing of that for you, my lady, nor for Mr. Charnock-which I'm sure I'll never forget all he did for us at the fire, leading my little Alferd out like a lamb! I beg your ladyship's pardon, ma'am, if I seemed a bit hasty; but I've been so put about-and I thought at first you'd come in on the same matter, which I'm sure a lady like you wouldn't ever do-about the drains, and such like, which isn't fit for no lady to speak of! As if Water Lane weren't as sweet and clean as it has any call to be, and as if we didn't know what was right by our tenants, which are a bad lot, and don't merit no money to be laid out on them!"
"So you have houses in Water Lane, Mrs. Bungay? I didn't even know it!"
"Yes, Lady Rosamond! My husband and I thought there was no better investment than to buy a bit of land, when the waste was inclosed, and run 'em up cheap. Houses always lets here, you see, and the fire did no damage to that side. But of course you didn't know, Lady Rosamond; a real lady like you wouldn't go prying into what she's no call to, like that fine decked-out body Duncombe's wife, which had best mind her own children, which it is a shame to see stravaging about the place! I know it's her doing, which I told young Mrs. Charnock Poynsett just now, which I'm right sorry to see led along by the like of her, and so are more of us; and we all wish some friend would give her a hint, which she is but young-and 'tis doing harm to Mr. Charnock Poynsett, Lady Rosamond, which all of us have a regard for, as is but right, having been a good customer, and friend to the town, and all before him; but we can't have ladies coming in with their fads and calling us names for not laying out on what's no good to nobody, just to satisfy them! As if Wil'sbro' hadn't been always healthy!"
Tom was wicked enough to put in a good many notes of sympathy, at the intervals of the conjunctive whiches, and to end by declaring, "Quite right, Mrs. Bungay! You see how much better we've brought up my sister! I say-what's the price of that little doll's broom?"
"What do you want of it, Tom?"
"Never you mind!"
"No mischief, I hope?"
CHAPTER XVII. The Enchantments
"It seems a shame," the Walrus said,
"To play them such a trick, After we've brought them out so far,
And made them trot so quick." The carpenter said nothing, but
"The butter's spread too thick."-LEWIS CARROLL
A telegram arrived from Frank, in the midst of the preparations on Wednesday, announcing that 'he was all right, and should be at Hazlitt's Gate at 8.10 p.m.'
At 6.30 children of all sizes, with manes of all colours, were arriving, and were regaled in the dining-room by Anne, assisted by Jenny and Charlie. Anne had a pretty pink colour in her cheeks, her flaxen locks were bound with green ribbons, and green adorned her white dress, in which she had a gracious, lily-like look of unworldly purity. She thoroughly loved children, was quite equal to the occasion, and indeed enjoyed it as much as the recent Christmas- tree in the village school.
Such of Cecil's guests as were mothers for the most part came with their children; but Lady Tyrrell, her sister, and others, who were unattached, arrived later, and were shown to the library, where she entertained them on the specified refreshment, biscuits and coffee, and enthroned Mrs Tallboys in the large arm-chair, where she looked most beautiful and gorgeous, in a robe of some astonishing sheeny sky-blue, edged with paly gold, while on her head was a coronal of sapphire and gold, with a marvellous little plume. The cost must have been enormous, and her delicate and spirituelle beauty was shown to the greatest advantage; but as the audience was far too scanty to be worth beginning upon, Cecil, with a sigh at the folly of maternal idolatry, went to hunt up her ladies f
rom gazing at the babyish amusements of their offspring; and Miss Moy, in spite of her remonstrance, jumped up to follow her; while Mrs. Duncombe, the only good mother in this new sense, remained, keeping guard lest curiosity, and the echo of piano music, which now began to be heard, should attract away any more of the ladies.
Cecil was by no means prepared for the scene. The drawing-room was crowded-chiefly indeed with ladies and children, but there was a fair sprinkling of gentlemen-and all had their faces turned towards the great glass doors opening into the conservatory, which was brilliantly lighted and echoing with music and laughter. Cecil tried to summon some of the ladies of her own inviting, announcing that Mrs. Tallboys was arrived; but this appeared to have no effect. "Yes, thank you," was all she heard. Penetrating a little farther, "Mrs. Tallboys is ready." "Thank you, I'll come; but my little people are so anxious to have me with them."-"Mrs. Tallboys is waiting!" to the next; who really did not hear, but only responded, "Did you ever see anything more charming?"
By this time Cecil could see over the heads of the front rank of children. She hardly knew the conservatory. All the veteran camellia and orange-trees, and a good many bay and laurel boughs besides, were ranged along the central alley, gorgeous with fairy lamps and jewels, while strains of soft music proceeded from some unseen quarter. "Very pretty!" said Cecil, hastily, trying another of her intended guests with her intelligence. "Really-yes, presently, thank you," was the absent answer. "There is some delightful mystery in there."
Cecil found her attempts were vain, and was next asked, as one of the household, what delicious secret was going on there; and as it hurt her feelings to be left out, she pressed into the conservatory, with some vague intention of ordering Anne, if not Rosamond, to release her grown-up audience, and confine their entertainment to the children; but she found herself at once caught by the hand by a turbaned figure like a prince in the Arabian Nights, who, with a low salaam, waved her on.
"No, thank you. I'm looking for-"
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