Mrs. Compton drew out her pocket-handkerchief, and its close application to her face prevented the possibility of ascertaining whether she laughed or frowned. Mrs. Hubert looked as grave as she could; the general exclaimed, almost unconsciously, “Compton!” Mr. O’Donagough grinned; Mrs.
O’Donagough looked on with undisguised rapture, crossing her arms upon her own bosom, with a sort of tender pressure that seemed to indicate that in her heart she embraced them both. The Miss Perkinses looked, turned away their heads, and looked again; while Patty herself glowed, and pouted, and pushed, and laughed, and finally, when the young gentleman withdrew his arms, gave him a look which any spinsters, less devotedly attached to her than the Miss Perkinses, might have interpreted into a challenge to repeat the attack at the first favourable opportunity.
This little interlude produced an excellent effect on the spirits of most of the party; the general and his lady, indeed, might have felt inclined, had the thing been possible, to remove themselves and their son elsewhere; but the old lady was decidedly pleased by the adventure, nothing doubting that such and such-like occurences would speedily bring General Hubert to the state of contrition in which she was determined to see him.
Mrs. O’Donagough immediately felt herself not only the great-aunt in esse, but the mother-in-law in posse, of the young gentleman; while her calculating husband could not but see very substantial hopes of familiar companionship from such a beginning. The Miss Perkinses naturally felt themselves more at their ease in a little party so affectionately intimate together, and Patty snapped her fingers in her heart at all the Lord Williams in the garrison; though, at the same time, her faithful lover Jack caused her secretly to breathe a reservation in his favour, which, if interpreted, would have shown that she still intended to marry him, if he asked her.
“Ring the bell, Mr. O’D., will you? and let us have some tea and coffee. These hot evenings make one long for one’s tea always, don’t they Matilda?” said Mrs. O’Donagough, giving the young lady she addressed a sidelong look of triumph and delight, as she passed before her to resume her station near the sofa on which the old lady and Agnes were sitting.
The respectable waiter soon made his appearance, and laboured round and round the room, with coffee, tea, cakes, and bread and butter, without intermission, for the space of one hour; the conversation, meanwhile, being carried on chiefly between Mrs. O’Donagough and Mrs. Hubert, and consisting almost entirely of questions and answers concerning Mr. Willoughby’s state of health, habits, residence, and pursuits — the number, fatness, leanness, shortness, and tallness, of Mr. Frederic Stephenson’s children, and of the constant longing, from which Mrs. O’Donagough had suffered during the whole of her residence abroad, to know all particulars respecting every relation and connection which Mrs. Hubert had upon earth, who must ever be, as she declared, more interesting to her than all the rest of the world beside.
By the time the persevering waiter had completed the last round of cake and bread and butter which he considered necessary, the recently smuggled French clock on the chimney-piece, being in excellent repair, audibly pronounced ten warnings of the progressive, though not always rapid, march of time. Several of the party counted the strokes, and Mrs. Hubert was one of them.
“I think the carriage must be here, general,” said she, looking expressively at her husband; “we are always early,” she added, turning to Mrs. O’Donagough, “when my aunt Compton is with us.” —
“Good gracious, my dear Agnes!” she replied, in considerable agitation; “you won’t be so cruel as to think of going yet? You will positively break our hearts if you go away without ice, or oranges, or anything. Bing the bell Mr. O’D., if you please.”
Mr. O’Donagough did so, sharply. The respectable waiter had not yet reached the bottom of the stairs, so the summons was answered with as little delay as his weariness would permit.
“Let the dining-parlour be ready for us directly, Potts,” said Mrs. O’Donagough, very impressively; and then rising from her chair, she made her way by a brisk movement to the door, in time to reach him as he was passing through it, and whispered in his ear, audibly only to himself and Compton Hubert, who was carrying on a muttered tittering conversation with Patty, near it, “Don’t forget to light the wax candles by the mirror, and let us know the minute it is all ready.”
The interval which intervened before this announcement was made, certainly appeared a very long one, but it came at last; upon which, Mr. O’Donagough, according to previous orders, often reiterated, approached the sofa, and “touting tow,” offered his arm to Mrs. Elizabeth Compton.
“You are very obliging, sir,” said the old lady, briskly; “but General Hubert is always kind enough to take care of me.”
Thus called upon, the general drew near, and took the mischievous old woman under his protection, supporting her, as usual, very carefully, but certainly feeling a little provoked with her as the cause of all he had been enduring for the last hundred and twenty-three minutes.
Thus rebuffed, Mr. Allen O’Donagough next proffered his attentions to Mrs. Hubert, who accepted them, unconscious that she took the same arm from which she had shrunk with so much terror some few years before at Clifton — the gentleman, however, remembered it, and laughed inwardly; well-pleased at the hocus-pocus sort of change his skill and fortune had jointly brought about. Then came the mistress of the fête, the gentle Miss Perkinses following after, not sorry, certainly (though deeply impressed with the honour they had enjoyed), that the period of its duration was drawing to a close, and not unmindful that, however long that period had appeared, the time which should follow, through which the ennobling recollection of it must last, would be the longer still. The procession was closed by Patty and her cousin Compton, the intimacy between them being greatly increased by the young lady’s placing her hand upon the banister for a slide, and exclaiming, “Now then! which will be down first?”
On reaching the bottom of the stairs, Mrs. Compton forgetting, or pretending to forget, that there was anything more to be done, walked briskly on towards the door of the house, at which a servant of General Hubert’s was stationed; but Mrs. O’Donagough, on seeing her pass the open door of Miss Perkins’s parlour, heedless of the radiant light that issued thence, or of the waiter who stood beside the entrance, doing all that man could do, save laying his hands upon her, to give her notice that she was to enter there; on seeing this, Mrs. O’Donagough pushed past her husband and Mrs. Hubert, and with almost panting agitation implored aunt Betsy and the general, to come into the refreshment-room, and eat some ice.
The necessity of compliance was so evident, that General Hubert immediately turned round, though the little hand which rested on his arm was almost withdrawn on his doing so. But, apparently, the old lady recollected herself, and felt aware that she was not performing well the part she had undertaken; for on entering the parlour, she immediately seated herself at the table, accepted everything that was offered to her, placing one thing aside, as soon as another came, and thus, though tasting nothing, setting an example of great activity. The eldest Miss Perkins ventured to seat herself beside her, obligingly offering her services to procure whatever she might wish to take, which Mrs. Compton replied to, by saying, “You are very kind, ma’am but when the worthy Louisa perceived that ice, orange, custard, and cake, were successively accepted, and successively placed aside, she could resist no longer, and gently ejaculated, “Dear me, ma’am, everything is so nice, yet you eat nothing!”
“I never taste anything after a six o’clock dinner, ma’am, excepting a glass of cold water,” replied the old lady, very civilly, but still continuing to extend her band to everything that was offered to her. This appearance of occupation on her part certainly kept the party together considerably longer than would have been the case without it; but at length she turned herself completely round to General Hubert, who stood behind her, and said, in her gayest, clearest accents, “Now then, general, I think we may go.”
/> This proposition now appeared too reasonable for any further opposition; Mrs. Hubert had taken au ice, Compton had fed his cousin Patty with two, the general had swallowed a mouthful of execrable wine with his host, and the old lady had evidently done all she intended to do. Shawls, therefore, were sought and found, hands were shaken, “Coming out,” was pronounced by Mrs. Hubert’s footman from the door, and the party drove off.
The only words uttered among them en route were, “I fear you must be very tired, my dear aunt,” from Mrs. Hubert; and, “Not the least in the world; quite the contrary,” in reply, from Mrs. Compton.
CHAPTER XVII.
WHATEVER might have been the degree of enjoyment produced by Mrs. O’Donagough’s party, whilst the whole company remained together, it certainly ended in unmixed satisfaction to those who remained after General Hubert’s carriage drove off. Mr. O’Donagough’s feeling of enjoyment probably arose in a considerable degree from knowing that the thing was over. The Miss Perkinses, cordially pressed to fall upon the ices (which no degree of skill could preserve), not only luxuriated in their dulcet coolness, but in all the pride of having passed the evening in such society, and all the relief produced by its having departed. But the happiness of Mrs. O’Donagough and Patty was of a more substantial kind; they, indeed, also eat ice, and were not insensible to the delight of pulling off their gloves, and “feeling easy,” as they all designated their present state of enjoyment; but beyond this, both mother and daughter contemplated results the most lasting and important from the events of the evening. Mrs. O’Donagough determined to be very cautious and diplomatic, and to “say nothing to nobody but she also determined that her own daughter should come to as great honour as the daughter of her sister, and marry a Hubert — unless she could do something better.
Patty, who looked perfectly intoxicated with delight, as she meditated on all that passed between herself and her cousin, tame exactly to the same conclusion; the only difference being, that her reservation was in favour of Jack, while that of her mamma had reference to any lords who might chance to fall in her way.
The Hubert party said very little to each other about the visit, in any way. Perhaps Mrs. Compton would have thought she had done enough to punish her dearly-beloved general for all the pertinacy he had shown in making light of her prophecies, had he but uttered one single word indicative of dislike to the O’Donagough race in general, or to any individual among them in particular. But he said not that word. Agnes feared to lead to the subject, lest the species of covert warfare, which she perceived to be still going on between her husband and her aunt, might be excited thereby; and as for Compton, feeling conscious that he had been superabundantly impertinent, he secretly rejoiced that the adventures of the evening seemed to lie under an interdict which rendered all allusion to them impossible. His sister Elizabeth, indeed, found an opportunity to ask, when they were alone together, what he thought of their Australian cousin, and he replied by giving her just such a description of the evening as might have been expected from so saucy a personage.
Several excursions on sea and land immediately followed, during which the O’Donagoughs were, in truth, very nearly forgotten.
It was exactly one week after Mrs. O’Donagough’s party, at half-past five o’clock in the afternoon, that Mr and Mrs. O’Donagough, Miss Patty, the two Miss Perkinses, and Lieutenant Dartmoor, being all seated very comfortably at dinner in the drawing-room, were startled, and, as it were, dragged involuntarily from the table to the windows, by the most tremendous clatter upon the pavement that it was well possible for horses and carriages to make.
“Who in the world are these?” cried Miss Matilda to Lieutenant Dartmoor, beside whom she was so lucky as to be placed. “Three carriages and four, and two outriders; mercy, what a dust! Liveries green and gold — well! I should like to know who they are!”
“Stop a moment! I think I can tell you,” replied the Lieutenant, protruding his person, almost at the risk of his life, through the open window, in order to obtain the information required. “Yes, I thought so; I remember the arms because of the crest — it’s the Stephensons — they are first-rate dashers, I promise you. We had them here last autumn, and they made the whole place alive.”
“Stephensons! what Stephensons?” demanded Mrs. O’Donagough, in a tone of authority. “Tell me, Captain Dartmore, all you know about them, I entreat you. I have an interest in that name which nobody else in company can have — except, indeed, my own daughter. Do you mean Frederic Stephenson, brother of Sir Edward?”
“Yes, ma’am; those are his carriages, I give you my word. Everybody knew the set-out last year; there was never a day that they were not making parties or pic-nics, or something or other. Several of our officers were always invited when they had dancing. Their arrival will make a sensation through the whole town.”
“Gracious heaven! was ever anything so fortunate! Now, Mr. O’Donagough, I shall have the pleasure of introducing you to some more of my connections. You must remember Frederic Stephenson at Clifton — that is, I mean, you must remember my often talking about knowing him there.”
“Perfectly,” replied Mr. O’Donagough, gravely, re-seating himself at the table; “and no wonder you should have often mentioned him as a gay personage, if that is the style he usually travels in.”
“He is a man of immense fortune, and such a dear creature!” said Mrs. O’Donagough, addressing Miss Perkins, and smiling as with a sort of tender recollection of past days.
“He is an old acquaintance, then?” said Miss Matilda, with nervous eagerness.
“Old acquaintance? Bless you, my dear, he is one of the nearest relations I have — by marriage.”
“And coming here unexpectedly in this way! Well to be sure, you are fortunate, Mrs. O’Donagough. Are you not delighted, Patty?”
“No, not I,” replied the young lady. “I don’t see the good of having relations, if one never sees ’em. I’m sure the Huberts might as well be at Jericho as at Brighton, for anything we see of ’em.”
“How can you talk such nonsense, Patty,” said her vexed mother, “when you know that we have called there three times since the delightful evening they spent here, and have always heard where they were gone. They have always been driving into the country somewhere or other, to amuse my aunt Compton, I suppose, and people can’t be in two places at once, let them wish it ever so much.”
“That’s true, I’m sure, if ever anything was,” observed Miss Perkins, with energy. “The very nearest relations in the world can’t always be as much together as they wish. And after what we saw the other night, my dear Miss Patty, you can’t persuade us but what there’s one of the party that wouldn’t be very far from East Cliff, if he had his own way.”
“Come, come, Louisa Perkins! No tales out of school, if you please. Let me give you a little more Irish stew, to stop that mouth of yours,” replied Mrs. O’Donagough, laughing “Never mind her, Patty. Don’t blush about it, cousins will be cousins all the world over.”
“It is all very well to talk of drives into the country,” said the judicious Matilda, taking her cue from Mrs. O’Donagough’s evident delight in the subject; “it is all very possible. Nevertheless, people often throw dust without blinding the lookers-on. I saw what I saw, and I know what I know. The general didn’t marry so very young himself, remember — and I suspect his opinion is, that young folks ought not to be too much in a hurry.”
“There may be something in that, Matilda,” replied Mrs. O’Donagough, nodding her head sagaciously. “We must not talk anything about it yet. Captain Dartmoor, remember that this is all among friends, and must go no further.”
“Did Stephenson play when he was here?” inquired Mr. Allen O’Donagough, addressing his military friend.
“Oh yes, I believe so!” was the reply. “He did everything — rode races, gave balls, bespoke plays, got up raffles. There was something or other going on the whole time they stayed — and if you inquired, let it be what it might, yo
u were sure to find that the Stephensons were at the bottom of it.”
“What delightful people!” exclaimed Miss Matilda.
“Why yes,” replied the lieutenant, looking towards Mrs. O’Donagough; “it would be a good set to get into, certainly.”
“But the worst of it is,” said Mrs. O’Donagough, with more dignity and reserve of manner than was usual with her; “the worst of it is, that these sort of people are so very exclusive. Near relations, of course, are excepted, but Frederic Stephenson, dear good-natured fellow as he was, and always particularly kind and flattering to me, even before he married my niece’s halfsister, even he was always rather famous for giving himself airs.” A gentle sigh heaved the bosom of Matilda. Miss Louisa looked very grave, and shook her head, and the lieutenant seized the decanter of Mazooka, or Mortola, or Pontac, or Bondac, or whatever the mixture might be called which stood near him, and swallowed a glassful of it.
The result of a certain consultation held that night between Mr and Mrs. Allen O’Donagough on the subject of this important arrival was that another call at General Hubert’s house must be made on the following day, where, if they were not admitted, they might at least obtain intelligence as to the truth of Lieutenant Dartmoor’s information.
The O’Donagough trio set off, accordingly, at a proper visiting hour on the following morning, dressed, one and all, with more than usual care, and determined that, if it were possible to avoid it, their trouble should not be in vain.
“Is Mrs. Hubert at home?” was the first question at the general’s door. The servant hesitated, and Mrs. O’Donagough instantly made a movement in advance.
“I particularly wish to see my niece, if it be only for half a moment,” said she.
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