Sophia remained stationary for a minute or two, with her eyes fixed upon it.
“Even she can’t pass master’s old darling, without a look,” thought Jem; “and no wonder, to be sure, for he’s a king of a free.”
Miss Martin Thorpe, also, was mentally uttering a soliloquy at the same moment. “As soon as I am of age that tree shall come down,” thought she; “it must be worth many pounds.” And from this moment, the present walk, and all future ones that led her through her woods, became exceedingly interesting, for she took to spying out all the large trees, of which, to her extreme satisfaction, she found great abundance, and, in her heart, condemned them every one to the axe.
She found her friend, Miss Brandenberry, seated with her venerable mother in a large old-fashioned parlour, the stone mullions of its one bay-window casting almost as much shade as its narrow panes did light. The old lady was knitting a stocking, and the younger darning one; but this last was, with equal skill and rapidity, lodged beneath the cushion of her chair, the instant the rough-clad hind who acted as porter opened the door and announced “Miss Martin Thorpe.”
“Tell my brother!.... Let my brother know!”.... were words which burst forth before Miss Brandenberry could sufficiently recover herself from her joyous surprise to offer any other salutation; but, when this was spoken, she threw her long figure forward, and, with one prodigious step, reached the approaching heiress, and all but took her in her arms.
“What joy.... what happiness!” she exclaimed, remembering, with something nearly approaching anguish, as she spoke, the extremely far from new or clean cap which she had on her head, and the faded and otherwise unpresentable condition of her old silk gown. But, notwithstanding this inward torment, she Spartanlike concealed every symptom of suffering, and reiterated the expression of her delight in every phrase that unbounded admiration and devoted affection could inspire. Then, going close to the ear of her mother, she screamed, with all the power of her lungs, “Miss Martin Thorpe, ma’am! Miss Martin Thorpe, of Thorpe-Combe!”
The poor old lady “took to shaking,” as the Western Americans express it, when an ague seizes them, but it was entirely from joy. Notwithstanding her age, she had still all her wits if not all her senses about her, and was as wide awake as either of her offspring could be to the obvious fact, that it was equally possible her son should marry the heiress, as for any one else to do it. With some difficulty she contrived to rise and advance a step or two to meet the thrice welcome guest, for which effort she was rewarded by Sophia’s saying “How d’ye do, ma’am,” and then retreating to the most distant point the room permitted. But for this, the old lady cared not a farthing; wholly intent upon one object, she kept repeating, as, by the help of laying her hand from step to step upon the table, she hobbled back to her place, “Your brother, Margaret! where is your brother, my dear? Why don’t you send for your brother, child?”
Sophia was neither deaf nor blind to any of these indications of joy and gladness at the sight of her, nor, in the least degree, at a loss to comprehend their meaning; but she still continued to reason, as she had done at first, that it could do her no possible harm, that it might amuse her, and that, if anybody who hoped to get her for the sake of her fortune were to end by falling in love with her, they must make up their minds to bear it. In short, she repeated to her heart, that she should take care of herself and they must take care of themselves.
It was, therefore, with as much cordiality as it was in her nature to show, that she received Miss Brandenberry’s enthusiastic welcome; but as to the poor old lady, she could not be useful to her in any way, and, if she ever forgot anything, she would have forgotten that she was in the room.
“And have you really walked, dear, dear Miss Martin Thorpe!...
What condescension! what excessive kindness!... And you look so elegant, too, that nobody in the world would believe you had walked an inch. Richard says, and I am sure it is as true as truth itself, that this county has never seen such perfection of elegance as now inhabits Thorpe-Combe... Poor dear Richard! My dearest Miss Martin Thorpe, do you know, I cannot help being rather uneasy about my brother. I don’t know whether you have observed it, but he certainly is excessively altered within the last month or six weeks. He is no more like what he used to be, than nothing. He looks, I think, wonderfully thin and pale for him, and so absent, poor fellow, that I sometimes think his long-descended old mansion-house might be burnt to cinders above his head, without his ever finding it out.”
“I hope you are mistaken, Miss Brandenberry, about your brother’s being ill, for I am come here to-day on purpose to consult with you both, about the Easter hall at Hereford,” said Sophia.
“You don’t say so, Miss Martin Thorpe?” exclaimed Miss Brandenberry, almost gasping with ecstasy. “Richard will be wild with joy! He is such a dancer! I have been told that, even in Paris, he would be thought more of, in that way, than almost any Englishman ever was before. But, to be sure, he is the very strangest young man!... for, would you believe it, Miss Martin Thorpe, notwithstanding his passion for dancing and his quite-out-of-the-common-way perfection in it, I have heard him declare, hundreds and hundreds of limes, that, if he could not get a partner he cared about he would rather not dance at all; and there are so few people that he can persuade himself to be tolerably civil to, that the chances are always ten to one against his ever meeting with a partner he likes. Oh! Richard, poor dear fellow! is quite out of the common way, I promise you. I believe people of very old family are, in general, more particular about whom they talk and dance with, and all that sort of thing, than others; at least, I know it is the case with Richard.”
“But you do not think he is too ill to go to this ball, do you, Miss Brandenberry?”
“Oh! good gracious, no!.... The very name of it, especially if he hears you speak of it, will drive him half wild with delight. Richard has so much animation! especially when anything touches his feelings — But, for God’s sake! dearest Miss Martin Thorpe, never let him find out that I have ever named him to you. He is the very best son and brother that ever was born upon the earth; but, nevertheless, I am perfectly sure that, if he found out I had ever indulged my feelings, by naming him in your presence, he never would permit me to speak to him again. He would not, I give you my word and honour; so, for goodness’ sake, never betray me.”
“No, certainly, I will not betray you,” replied the grave Sophia, rather solemnly. “But I want you to tell me what is the proper way of applying for tickets? Whether I ought to apply to the stewards, or only send to the inn? I should prefer sending to the stewards, if it is the custom for any one to do it, because, of course it would be much more agreeable not to go, for the first time, into a room like that, quite unexpectedly.”
“Of course! Oh dear me!.... Of course! But if you will take my advice, my dear Miss Martin Thorpe, you will put the whole business into Richard’s hands. He is the person of all others to manage it exactly in the proper way. I have no doubt that he would take his horse at once, and ride round the whole neighbourhood, — Richard knows everybody in the county, almost; and he would take care to make it generally known that Miss Martin Thorpe, of Thorpe-Combe, was going to make her first public appearance at the county Easter ball, provided tickets were immediately sent her. That would be the only right and proper manner of doing it; and then you will find that everybody of the slightest fashion in the neighbourhood will take good care to be there to meet you.”
“I think that mil be the proper way,” replied Sophia, complacently; “And I shall be much obliged to your brother if he will undertake it for me.”
“Obliged?.... Oh! if he could hear you!.... I should like to know what there is that he could do for you, that he would endure to hear called an obligation!.... Poor dear Richard! I cannot help thinking of his ecstasy when he hears that be shall meet you at this ball!.... It is odd enough, but perhaps it was at the very moment you were deciding upon it that the enthusiastic creature was saying — Only yest
erday, by the by — that he had never seen bat one perfectly beautiful foot in his life. I have no business to repeat his words — but I leave you to guess whose he meant.”
While this was passing in the bay-windowed parlour, Mr. Brandenberry was making the most of the advantage which accident had given him over his sister. His dirty fishing-jacket was changed for his best frock-coat, a coloured cotton neck-cloth for a black satin one; shining boots were substituted for rusty shoes; and his hair arranged with that nice care which forty years not unfrequently renders necessary All this certainly took time; nevertheless, just at the moment at which his sister gave Miss Martin Thorpe leave to guess whose foot was thought perfectly beautiful, he made his appearance in the parlour.
Hardly was he permitted to add a word to the profound bow which he performed over the kindly extended hand of Sophia, before his sister, in the chirruping accents of excessive glee, exclaimed, “My dearest Richard! You know not what there is in store for you!.... Do you remember a certain conversation about a certain foot?”
Whether dearest Richard remembered any such conversation or not, he remembered the talents of his excellent sister; and turning away his grey eyes from the face on which they had been fixed, exclaimed with great feeling, “Be quiet, Margaret!”
“Quiet?.... Richard! Richard!.... When will you be quiet again, when I tell you that Miss Martin Thorpe intends going to the Easter ball?”
“Is this true? Do not let this wicked girl put such visions into my head if they are to prove only baseless fabrics, dearest Miss Martin Thorpe! Of all the things that could happen, this is the one I have been the most ardently wishing for! Tell me, is it true!
“I have thought of it, certainly,” replied Sophia, sedately, but not without some consciousness that her foot did look very small, as it rested upon the footstool which Miss Brandenberry had assiduously placed before her. “I have been thinking of it ever since I saw the advertisement in the county paper, and I have walked over this morning to ask you and your sister to give me some information about it.”
“Walked over!.... Gracious Heaven! Is it possible?.... To consult us? Oh! Miss Martin Thorpe!” and Mr. Brandenberry clasped his hands together, and seemed at a loss to decide on which theme to bestow his rapture first. But Sophia, who never forgot the business she had in hand, recalled him to his senses by repeating, word for word, all she had said to his sister respecting the necessity of making her intentions in favour of the county, generally known to the inhabitants thereof. No two testimonies could agree together better than those of the brother and sister on this point. The gentleman, as eagerly as the lady had done, declared the felicity he should feel in being permitted to gallop over the county to proclaim the glorious tidings; but in his case this was rendered greatly more effective by the judicious addition of various symptoms of agitation which would have been out of place in hers. Sophia, as usual, saw and understood it all; and she liked it very well. She expected, and perhaps intended to be an object of pursuit to a great many gentlemen; and here was one of them quite ready to prove that she was not mistaken.
She thanked him, therefore, as distinctly as she had thanked his sister; and when in return he said, “May I dare to hope for the honour and still greater happiness of your hand, Miss Martin Thorpe,....” and here he stopped short, and, looking rather wild and absent, emitted a sigh; but almost immediately recovering himself, added,.... “for the first quadrille?” when he said this, she replied, “I shall be very happy, Mr. Brandenberry,” in quite as obliging a tone as she had ever spoken to him.
After this she rose to take her leave. “You are not unattended, Miss Martin Thorpe?” he said, while his obedient eyes spoke all the anxiety he intended to testify for her reply. “No, Mr. Brandenberry, I have my page with me,” uttered with a good deal of dignity, cost him another sigh; but here again he recovered himself quickly, and leaving the room to seek his hat, while she received the elaborate adieus of his sister, he stood ready at the Gothic porch of the old mansion to convey her respectfully to its garden gate. But by the time this barrier was reached, be had got into so eloquent a description of the effect which he knew her approaching appearance would make throughout the county, that he thoughtlessly passed through it without taking his leave; nor did he cease to talk till they reached the little wire gate which formed the only separation between Miss Martin Thorpe’s woods and Miss Martin Thorpe’s lawn, “Good heaven!.... Is it possible I have got thus far? I had no idea of passing beyond my own gates, This is absolute bewitchment,” he added laughing, “for I am engaged to accompany my sister Margaret to a dinner-party, at the house of one of our most distinguished neighbours; and how to get hack in time to dress, if I go round by the road, I know not. May J not exclaim almost in the words of Macbeth?
“Who can be wise, enchanted, temperate, and happy,
Loyal, and neutral, in a moment? No man.
The expedition of my violent....
Outran the pauser reason.”
These words were uttered with animated but laughing vehemence; and, the word “love,” at the end of the third line, so slurred over, as to be rather felt than heard. So there was no reason why Miss Martin Thorpe should be displeased, neither was she, as it seemed; for without any indication whatever of being at all flattered by it, in any way, she put out her hand in token of friendly farewell, saying, “Good morning, Mr. Brandenberry.
I hope you will get back in time.”
“But the door! the fatal door!” he exclaimed, as he still held her hand. “Alas! I cannot win my way through the key-hole; neither can I leap it. May I ask you to have the excessive kindness to lend me your key?”
Now Miss Martin Thorpe had not, as may be perceived above, any objection whatever to Mr. Brandenberry’s falling in love with her, nor did she feel herself in any way called upon to take any measures to prevent it; but she did not like giving him the key of her shrubbery. It was not that she anticipated, or feared, any in- discreet use of it on his part, she was quite able to take care of herself, and not at all afraid of Mr. Brandenberry; but a key was a part of her property; the giving it for his use would be sharing with another what was now entirely her own, and she did not approve this. But nevertheless, she liked Mr. Brandenberry very well, and decidedly thought him agreeable; so she said, “My page shall return with you to the door, Mr. Brandenberry, and let you through.”
“A thousand thanks!” said the judicious gentleman, bowing gaily, and turning to retrace his steps, with the page, having the precious key upon his finger, striding after him.
But ere they bad achieved three paces, Sophia, who was most exceedingly hungry, remembered that her stately butler had made it an express condition of his taking service at Thorpe Combe, that Jem should assist in laying the cloth, and the idea that she should have to wait while the boy accompanied Mr. Brandenberry, and returned, was more than she could bear; therefore turning briskly round, and raising her shrill small voice so as to be distinctly heard, she said: —
“believe, Mr. Brandenberry, that it will be better for you to take the key yourself, this time. You will be so kind as to send it back again this evening, will you?”
The gentleman, who had darted back the instant he heard the voice, received the ungracious favour with a happy smile; and once more pronouncing “Farewell!” set off at a brisk trot through the admired premises, muttering some wayward fancies about not caring a split straw how ugly or how odious their possessor might be, provided she would bestow herself upon him, for better, for worse, and perfectly prepared so far to reverse the order of the ceremony which he desired to go through with her, as to promise on his part to honour and obey, provided that in return she would covenant with all her earthly goods to him endow.
CHAPTER XX.
At length the day arrived which the heiress had fixed for the arrival of her guardian and his family at Thorpe-Combe. The Major, his lady, Florence, and the two little boys, came closely packed in a post-chaise, the greater part of their luggage being l
eft to follow by a waggon which would bring it as far as Hereford. Fortunately the day was as fine a one as ever April gave; and therefore, with all the windows open, the party were much less incommoded than they had been, when, with the two long legs of Algernon instead of the four short ones of the little boys, they made the same journey the preceding Christmas.
The two little ones, the elder eight, the younger five years old, were in ecstasies, as they drove through the pretty paddock, and reached the bright looking esplanade before the door; but even the youngest of their three companions had enough on her mind to make her silent, if not sad — the Major thought of old Thorpe, and his young heiress, with no very gay feelings; and Mrs. Heathcote, though one of the last women in the world to “take up sorrow at interest.” as her husband called it, could not quite prevent herself from thinking still more at that moment, perhaps, than she had ever done before, that Sophia Martin was not exactly the girl, of all others, that she should best like to have for the mistress of the house she was to live in, instead of her own, for the next twelvemonth.
Neither of the three spoke from the time they passed through the Lodge gates, till their rattling vehicle had drawn up to the steps of the handsome entrance, then, as Major Heathcote gave his hand to his daughter, after depositing his two sons on the gravel, he said “You look pale, Florence.”
“Do I?” she answered with an inaudible sigh, but a visible smile. “I suppose the drive has tired me; but it was very pleasant, too.”
In another moment they were within the hall, and the stately butler ushered them, according to the orders he had received, into the east parlour. It was vacant, the heiress not having deemed it necessary to descend from her private drawing-room to receive them.
Collected Works of Frances Trollope Page 306