GOING HOME.
Driving slowly along while the coachman ruminated, Agnes and Marian, in
awe and astonishment, looked in each other’s faces--then they put up
their hands simultaneously to their faces, which were a little heated
with the extreme confusion, embarrassment, and wonder of the last two
hours--lastly, they both fell into a little outburst of low and somewhat
tremulous laughter--laughing in a whisper, if that is possible--and
laughing, not because they were very merry, but because, in their
extreme amazement, no other expression of their sentiments occurred to
them. Were they two enchanted princesses? and had they been in
fairyland?
“Oh Agnes!” exclaimed Marian under her breath, “what will mamma say?”
“I do not think mamma can be angry,” said Agnes, who had gained some
courage, “for I am sure we could not help ourselves. What could we
do?--but when they see us coming home like this--oh May!”
There was another pause. “I wonder very much what she has written. We
have never heard of her,” said Marian, “and yet I suppose she must be
quite a great author. How respectful Mr Burlington was! I am afraid it
will not be good for you, Agnes, that we live so much out of the
world--you ought to know people’s names at least.”
Agnes did not dispute this advantage. “But I don’t quite think she can
be a great author,” said the young genius, looking somewhat puzzled,
“though I am sure she was very kind--how kind she was, Marian! And do
you think she really wants us to go on Thursday? Oh, I wonder what mamma
will say!”
As this was the burden of the whole conversation, constantly recurring,
as every new phase of the question was discussed, the conversation
itself was not quite adapted for formal record. While it proceeded, the
magnificent coachman blundered towards the unknown regions of Islington,
much marvelling, in his lofty and elevated intelligence, what sort of
people his mistress’s new acquaintances could be. They reached Bellevue
at last by a grievous roundabout. What a sound and commotion they made
in this quiet place, where a doctor’s brougham was the most fashionable
of equipages, and a pair of horses an unknown glory! The dash of that
magnificent drawing-up startled the whole neighbourhood, and the
population of Laurel House and Buena Vista flew to their bedroom windows
when the big footman made that prodigious assault upon the knocker of
Number Ten. Then came the noise of letting down the steps and opening
the carriage door; then the girls alighted, almost as timid as Susan,
who stood scared and terror-stricken within the door; and then Agnes, in
sudden temerity, but with a degree of respectfulness, offered, to the
acceptance of the footman, a precious golden half-sovereign, intrusted
to her by her mother this morning, in case they should want anything.
Poor Mrs Atheling, sitting petrified in her husband’s easy-chair, did
not know how the coin was being disposed of. They came in--the humble
door was closed--they stood again in the close little hall, with its
pegs and its painted oil-cloth--what a difference!--while the fairy
coach and the magical bay-horses, the solemn coachman and the superb
flunky, drove back into the world again with a splendid commotion, which
deafened the ears and fluttered the heart of all Bellevue.
“My dears, where have you been? What have you been doing, girls? Was
that Mr Burlington’s carriage? Have you seen any one? Where have you
been?” asked Mrs Atheling, while Agnes cried eagerly, “Mamma, you are
not to be angry!” and Marian answered, “Oh, mamma! we have been in
fairyland!”
And then they sat down upon the old hair-cloth sofa beside the family
table, upon which, its sole ornaments, stood Mrs Atheling’s full
work-basket, and some old toys of Bell’s and Beau’s; and thus, sometimes
speaking together, sometimes interrupting each other, with numberless
corrections on the part of Marian and supplementary remarks from Agnes,
they told their astonishing story. They had leisure now to enjoy all
they had seen and heard when they were safe in their own house, and
reporting it all to Mamma. They described everything, remembered
everything, went over every word and gesture of Mrs Edgerley, from her
first appearance in Mr Burlington’s room until their parting with her;
and Marian faithfully recorded all her compliments to _Hope Hazlewood_,
and Agnes her admiration of Marian. It was the prettiest scene in the
world to see them both, flushed and animated, breaking in, each upon the
other’s narrative, contradicting each other, after a fashion;
remonstrating “Oh Agnes!” explaining, and adding description to
description; while the mother sat before them in her easy-chair,
sometimes quietly wiping her eyes, sometimes interfering or commanding,
“One at a time, my dears,” and all the time thinking to herself that the
honours that were paid to “girls like these!” were no such wonder after
all. And indeed Mrs Atheling would not be sufficiently amazed at all
this grand and wonderful story. She was extremely touched and affected
by the kindness of Mrs Edgerley, and dazzled with the prospect of all
the great people who were waiting with so much anxiety to make
acquaintance with the author of _Hope Hazlewood_, but she was by no
means properly _surprised_.
“My dears, I foresaw how it would be,” said Mrs Atheling with her simple
wisdom. “I knew quite well all this must happen, Agnes. I have not read
about famous people for nothing, though I never said much about it. To
be sure, my dear, I knew people would appreciate you--it is quite
natural--it is quite proper, my dear child! I know they will never make
you forget what is right, and your duty, let them flatter as they will!”
Mrs Atheling said this with a little effusion, and with wet eyes. Agnes
hung her head, blushed very deeply, grew extremely grave for a moment,
but concluded by glancing up suddenly again with a little overflow of
laughter. In the midst of all, she could not help recollecting how
perfectly ridiculous it was to make all this commotion about _her_.
“Me!” said Agnes with a start; “they will find me out directly--they
must, mamma. You know I cannot talk or do anything; and indeed everybody
that knew me would laugh to think of people seeing anything in _me_!”
Now this was perfectly true, though the mother and the sister, for the
moment, were not quite inclined to sanction it. Agnes was neither
brilliant nor remarkable, though she had genius, and was, at twenty and
a half, a successful author in her way. As she woke from her first awe
and amazement, Agnes began to find out the ludicrous side of her new
fame. It was all very well to like the book; there was some reason in
that, the young author admitted candidly; but surely those people must
expect something very different from the reality, who were about to
besiege Mrs Edgerley for introductions to “_me_!”
However, it was very easy to forget this part of the subject in
returning to the dawn of social patronage, and in anticipating the
invitation they had received. Mrs Atheling, too, was somewhat
disappointed that they had made so little acquaintance with Mr
Burlington, and could scarcely even describe him, how he looked or what
he said. Mr Burlington had quite gone down in the estimation of the
girls. His lady client had entirely eclipsed, overshadowed, and taken
the glory out of the publisher. The talk was all of Mrs Edgerley, her
beauty, her kindness, her great house, her approaching party. They began
already to be agitated about this, remembering with terror the important
article of dress, and the simple nature and small variety of their
united wardrobe. Before they had been an hour at home, Miss Willsie made
an abrupt and sudden visit from Killiecrankie Lodge, to ascertain all
about the extraordinary apparition of the carriage, and to find out
where the girls had been; and it did not lessen their own excitement to
discover the extent of the commotion which they had caused in Bellevue.
The only drawback was, that a second telling of the story was not
practicable for the instruction and advantage of Papa--for, for the
first time in a dozen years, Mr Atheling, all by himself, and solitary,
was away from home.