MRS. BARNABY SETS FORTH ON HER TRAVELS.--THE READER TAKES LEAVE OF MISS
COMPTON.--MRS. BARNABY ENJOYS HER JOURNEY, AND ARRIVES SAFELY AT EXETER.
Within a week after this unfortunate interview, all Mrs. Barnaby's
earthly possessions, excepting her money, were deposited in the waggon
that travelled between Silverton and Exeter; and the day afterwards
herself, her niece, and her maid, whom she had surnamed Jerningham, (the
two former in the coach, and the latter on the top of it,) set forth on
their way to that fair and ancient city of the west.
Before we follow them thither, we must stop for a moment to bid a long
adieu to poor Miss Compton. Unfortunately for her temper, as well as her
limbs, farmer Wright did not over-take her till within a few yards of
their home; and the agitation and fatigue, both equally unusual to her,
so completely overpowered her strength and spirits, that having taken to
her bed as soon as she reached her room, she remained in it for above a
fortnight, being really feverish and unwell, but believing herself very
much worse than she really was. During the whole of this time, and
indeed for several months afterwards, she never attempted to separate
the innocent image of Agnes from the offensive one of Mrs. Barnaby. The
caress which the poor girl had offered with such true tenderness and
sympathy, was the only distinct idea respecting her that remained on the
mind of Miss Compton; and this suggested no feeling but that of
indignation, from the conviction that Mrs. Barnaby's "dear love," not a
whit less detestable, was only more artful than herself; or that, not
yet being in possession of the wealth of which her hateful protectress
boasted, she deemed it prudent to aim at obtaining whatever she herself
might have to bestow.
Notwithstanding all these disagreeable imaginings, however, the old lady
gradually recovered both her health and her usual tranquil equality of
spirits, sometimes even persuading herself that she was very glad she
had not been seduced, by the appearance of Agnes, to sacrifice her own
comfort for the advantage of an artful girl, who was, after all, quite
as much the grand-daughter of a Wisett as of a Compton.
* * * * *
Never during the prosperous years that Mrs. Barnaby had been the
mistress of her comfortable house at Silverton, (excepting, perhaps, for
the delightful interval while she was treated throughout the town as a
bride,) did she feel half so grand or so happy a personage as now that
she had no house at all. There was an elegance and freedom, which she
never felt conscious of before, in thus setting off upon her travels
with what she believed to be an ample purse, of which she was the
uncontrolled mistress, a beautiful niece to chaperone, and a lady's-maid
to wait upon her; and had Agnes, who sat opposite to her, been less
earnestly occupied in recalling all the circumstances of her last
strange interview with her aunt Compton, she must have observed and been
greatly puzzled by the series of (perhaps) involuntary grimaces which
accompanied Mrs. Barnaby's mental review of her own situation.
"A rich and handsome widow!... Could fate have possibly placed her in
any situation she should have liked so well?" This was the question she
silently asked herself, and cordially did her heart answer "No."
As these thoughts worked in her mind her dark, well-marked eyebrows
raised themselves, her eyes flashed, and her lips curled into a
triumphant smile.
The person who occupied the transverse corner to herself was a handsome
young man, who had joined the Silverton coach, from the mansion of a
gentleman in the neighbourhood, to which, however, he was himself quite
a stranger; and having in vain tried to get sight of the features
concealed by the long crape veil beside him, he took to watching those
no way concealed by the short crape veil opposite.
"Mother and daughter, of course," thought he. "A young specimen, without
rouge or moustache, would not be amiss."
Mrs. Barnaby perceived he was looking at her, and settled her features
into dignified but not austere harmony.
"It is very pleasant travelling this morning, ma'am," said the young
man.
"As pleasant as a stage-coach can be, I imagine; ... but I am so little
accustomed to the sort of thing that I am not a very good judge. Do you
know, sir, where the coach stops for dinner?"
"I cannot say I do; I never travelled this road before."
"Then you are not a resident in the neighbourhood?"
"No, ma'am, quite a bird of passage. It is the first time I have ever
been in Devonshire. It seems to be a beautiful county indeed."
"Very!"... Mrs. Barnaby heartily hoped that no comparisons would follow,
as it was not at all her intention to confess, either on the present or
any future occasion, that she had never seen any other; and she
therefore rather abruptly changed the conversation by adding, "Do you
know, sir, whether there are many outside passengers?... I hope my maid
will not be annoyed in any way.... It is the first time I ever put her
outside a coach!"
"Poor woman!" thought the young man--"lost her husband, and her money
with him, I suppose. I must contrive to look at this tall, slender girl,
though."
But Agnes seemed little disposed to give him any opportunity of doing
so, for she continued to keep her eyes fixed on the scene without, thus
very nearly turning her back on her curious neighbour.
Mrs. Barnaby's first act of active chaperonship was a very obliging one;
she perceived the young man's object, and not having the slightest
inclination to conceal the beauty of Agnes, which she held to be one of
the many advantages with which she was herself surrounded, she said,--
"My dear Agnes, do look at that pretty cottage; it is a perfect picture
of rural felicity!"
Agnes obeyed the words, and followed with her eyes the finger that
pointed through the opposite window, thus indulging her neighbour with a
full view of her exquisite profile. The effect was by no means what Mrs.
Barnaby expected; the young man looked, and instead of being led by what
he saw into talkative civility, he became very respectfully silent. But
respectful silence was not an offering to which Mrs. Barnaby in the most
brilliant season of her beauty had ever been accustomed; it puzzled her,
till a thought struck her which is worth recording, because it very
greatly influenced her conduct and feelings for a long time afterwards.
This gentleman, whose attentions for the journey she greatly wished to
conciliate, had addressed her in the easy style by which "fast" young
men are apt to believe they can propitiate the favour of every woman
somewhat under fifty years of age, and somewhat, too, beneath themselves
in condition. Our traveller had no fear of blundering when he settled
that Mrs. Barnaby belonged to this class; but the instant he caught a
glimpse of the countenance of Agnes, he became equally sure that she at
least belonged to a higher one. It was not wonderful that poor Miss
Compton doubted, when she looked at her, the possibility of her being a
descendant of the buxom Martha Wisett, for, excepting something in the
form and soft lustre of her dark-brown eyes, her features bore no
resemblance to her mother, or her mother's family, but a most decided
one to that of her father, who, though a very foolish, hot-headed
lieutenant, when we made his acquaintance, was descended from a race of
aristocratic ancestors, rather remarkable for their noble and regular
cast of features, which appeared indeed to be their least alienable
birthright.
The traveller, though a young man, had lived sufficiently in the world
to have learned at least the alphabet of character as written on the
countenances of those he met, and he spelt gentlewoman so plainly on
that of Agnes, that he felt no more right to address her without
introduction than he would have done had the stage-coach been an
opera-box.
"That's very odd," ... thought Mrs. Barnaby. "She certainly is a most
beautiful creature ... quite as handsome as I was even in poor dear
Tate's days, and yet the moment he got a sight of her, his pleasant, gay
manner, changed all at once, and he now looks as glum as a boy at
school.... Though she is my niece, she is not like me; that's
certain, ... and who knows but that many men may still prefer my style
to hers?... As to this one, at least, it is impossible to doubt it, and
it will be great folly in me to set out with a fancy that my face and
figure, especially when I get back to dress again, will not stand a
comparison with hers. For some years, at any rate, in justice to myself,
I will keep this in mind; and not take it for granted that every glance
directed towards us is for the child, and not for the woman."
This agreeable idea seemed all that was wanting to make the journey
perfectly delicious, and not even the continued reserve of the young man
could affect in any great degree the charming harmony of her spirits. We
hear much of the beautiful freshness of hope in young hearts just about
to make their first trial of the joys of life; but it is quite a mistake
to suppose that any such feeling can equal the fearless, confident,
triumphant mastery and command of future enjoyment, which dilates the
heart, in the case of such an out-coming widow as Mrs. Barnaby.
The Silverton coach set its passengers down at Street's hotel, in the
Church-yard; and my heroine, who now for the first time in her life
found herself at an inn, with the power of ordering what she chose,
determined to enjoy the two-fold gratification of passing for a lady of
great fashion and fortune, and of taking especial care of her
creature-comforts into the bargain.
"Do you want rooms, ma'am?" said the head of a waiter, suddenly placing
itself among the insides.
"Yes, young man, I want the best rooms in the house.... Where is my
maid?--Let her be ready to attend me as soon as I get out. We have
nothing with us but three trunks, one square box, one hat-box, two
carpet-bags, and my dressing-case. Let everything be conveyed to my
apartments. Now open the door, and let me get out.... Follow me,
Agnes.... You will come, if you please, without delay, young man, to
receive my orders respecting refreshments."
Two lighted candles were snatched up as they passed the bar, and Mrs.
Barnaby proceeded up the stairs in state, the waiter and his candles
before, Agnes and "_my maid_" behind.
"This room is extremely dark and disagreeable.... Pray, send the master
of the house to me; I wish to give my orders to him."
"My master is not at home, ma'am."
"Not at home?... Extremely negligent, I must say. Perhaps it will be
better for me to proceed to some other hotel, where I may be able to see
the head of the establishment. I have not been accustomed to be treated
with anything like neglect ... people of my condition, indeed, seldom
are."
"If you will be pleased, my lady, to give your orders to me," said the
waiter very respectfully, "you shall find nothing wanting that belongs
to a first-rate house."
"Then, pray, send my maid to me.... Oh! there you are, Jerningham."
"Yes, ma'am," answered the gawky soubrette, tucking back the veil with
which Mrs. Barnaby had adorned one of her own bonnets, and staring at
the draperied windows, and all the other fine things which met her eyes.
"You will see, Jerningham, that my sleeping apartment is endurable."
Now Betty Jacks, though careless and idle, was by no means a stupid
girl; but she was but fifteen years old, and her experiences not having
hitherto been upon a very extended scale, she found herself at a loss to
understand what her new mistress meant, about nine times out of every
ten that she spoke to her. On receiving the order above mentioned, she
meditated for an instant upon what an "endurable sleeping apartment"
might be; but the sagacity which failed to discover this, sufficed to
suggest the advantage of not confessing her ignorance; and she answered
boldly, "Yes, sure, ma'am."
"Go, then," said the lady, languidly throwing her person upon a sofa;
and then turning to the waiter, who still remained with the door in his
hand, she pronounced with impressive emphasis,--
"Let there be tea, sugar, and cream brought, with buttered toast, and
muffins also, if it be possible.... Agnes, my love, I am afraid there is
hardly room for you on the sofa; but sit down, dear, and try to make
yourself comfortable on a chair."
The two ladies were now left to themselves, Betty Jacks joyfully
accompanying the smart young waiter to the regions below. "And who may
be your missus, my dear?" he said, giving her an encouraging chuck under
the chin; "she can't have much to do, I'm thinking, with any of the
county families, for they bean't much given to stage-coaches, and never
without their own gentlemen to guard 'em.... Is she a real grand lady,
or only a strutting make-believe?"
Betty, thinking it much more for her own credit to serve a real grand
lady than a make-believe, readily answered.
"To be sure, she is a real grand lady, Mr. Imperdence.... We comes up
along from Silverton, and she's one of the finest ladies in the town."
"_In_ the town," repeated the knowing waiter significantly.... "I
understand.... Well, she shall have some tea; .... And now, my girl, you
had better go and do what she bid you."
"Well now, if I hav'n't downright forgot already!" said the unblushing
Betty. "Will you tell me what it was then?"
"How old are you, my dear?" was the unsatisfactory reply.
"And pray what's that to you?... But come now, do tell me, willy', what
was it missus told me to do?"
"To go see after her bed, my dear, and all that, and unpack her
nightcap, I suppose."
"Well, then, give me a candle,--that's a good man.... But where is her
bed, though?"
"You bean't quite hatched yet, my gay maypole, but you'll do well
enough some of these day.... Here, Susan! shew this young waiting-maid a
bed-room for two ladies--and one for yourself too, I suppose, my dear. I
shouldn't wonder, Susan, if it was possible the grand lady up stairs may
pay less than a duchess; but take my word for it she'll blow you sky
high, if you don't serve her as if you thought she was one."
"How did she come?" snappishly inquired the chamber-maid.
"By the Royal Regulator," answered the waiter. "But inside, Susan,
inside, you know, and with her lady's-maid here to wait upon her; so
mind what you're about, I tell you."
"Come this way, young woman, if you please," said the experienced
official, who was not to be bullied out of a first-floor room by the
report of duchess-like airs, or the sight of a lanky child for a
waiting-maid. So Betty was made to mount to a proper stage-coach
elevation.
Mrs. Barnaby, however, got her tea, and her toast, and her muffins,
greatly to her satisfaction, even though the master of the
establishment knew nothing about it; and though she did make Agnes's
slender arm pay for the second flight of stairs, in order to prove how
very little used she was to such fatigue, she was, on the whole, well
pleased with her room when she reached it, well pleased with her bed,
well pleased with her breakfast, and ready to set off as soon as it was
over to look out for lodgings and adventures.