STRANGERS.
"Well, Ursula, how do you do?" said Mrs. Sam Hurst, meeting her young
neighbour with outstretched hands. She was a portly good-looking woman
with an active mind, and nothing, or next to nothing to do, and instead
of being affronted as some persons might have been, she was amused, and
indeed flattered, by the suspicion and alarm with which all the young
Mays regarded her. Whether she had the least intention of ever giving
any justification to their alarms it would be impossible to say, for
indeed to a sensible woman of forty-five, well to do and comfortable, a
husband with "a temper of his own," and a large poor unruly family, was,
perhaps, not so tempting as he appeared to be to his jealous children.
Anyhow she was not at all angry with them for being jealous and afraid
of her. She was cordial in her manner to the Mays as to everybody she
knew. She asked how Ursula had enjoyed herself, where she had been, what
she had seen, and a hundred questions more.
"It is quite delightful to see somebody who has something to tell," she
said when the interrogation was over. "I ask everybody what news, and
no one has any news, which is dreadful for me."
"How can you care for news?" said Ursula, "news! what interest can there
be in mere news that doesn't concern us?"
"You are very foolish, my dear," said Mrs. Hurst; "what's to become of
you when you're old, if you don't like to hear what's going on? I'm
thankful to say I take a great deal, of interest in my fellow-creatures
for my part. Now listen, I'll tell you a piece of news in return for all
your information about London. When I was in Tozer's shop to-day--I
always go there, though they are Dissenters; after all, you know, most
tradespeople are Dissenters; some are sorry for it, some think it quite
natural that gentle-people and tradespeople should think differently in
religious matters; however, what I say is, you can't tell the difference
in butter and bacon between church and dissent, can you now? and Tozer's
is the best shop in the town, certainly the best shop. So as I was in
Tozer's as I tell you, who should come in but old Mrs. Tozer, who once
kept it herself--and by her side, figure my astonishment, a young lady!
yes, my dear, actually a young lady, in appearance, of course--I mean in
appearance--for, as you shall hear, it could be no more than that. So
nicely dressed, nothing vulgar or showy, a gown that Elise might have
made, and everything to correspond, in perfect taste. Fancy! and you may
imagine how I stared. I could not take my eyes off her. I was so
astonished that I rubbed up my old acquaintance with the old woman, and
asked her how her rheumatism was. I _hope_ it is rheumatism. At all
events I called it so, and then she told me as proud as a peacock that
it was her granddaughter; fancy, her granddaughter! did you ever hear of
such a thing? The other woman in the shop, the present Tozer, called out
to her by name. Phoebe they called her. Poor girl, I was so sorry for
her. A lady in appearance, and to have to submit to that!"
"Oughtn't ladies to be called Phoebe?" asked Janey. "Why not? It's rather
a pretty name."
"That is so like Janey," said Mrs. Hurst; "I know she is the clever one;
but she never can see what one means. It is not being called Phoebe, it
is because of her relations that I am sorry for her. Poor girl!
educating people out of their sphere does far more harm than good, I
always maintain. To see that nice-looking, well-dressed girl in Tozer's
shop, with all the butter boys calling her Phoebe--"
"The butter boys are as good as any one else," cried Janey, whose
tendencies were democratic. "I dare say she likes her relations as well
as we like ours, and better, though they do keep a shop."
"Oh, Janey!" cried Ursula, whose feelings were touched; then she
remembered that her sympathies ought not to flow in the same channel
with those of Mrs. Sam Hurst, and continued coldly, "If she had not
liked them she need not have come to see them."
"That is all you know, you girls. You don't know the plague of
relations, and how people have got to humble themselves to keep money in
the family, or keep up appearances, especially people that have risen in
the world. I declare I think they pay dear for rising in the world, or
their poor children pay dear--"
"You seem to take a great deal of interest in the Tozers," said Ursula,
glad to administer a little correction; "even if they came to St.
Roque's I could understand it--but Dissenters!" This arrow struck home.
"Well," said Mrs. Hurst, colouring, "of all people to take an interest
in Dissenters I am the last; but I was struck, I must admit, to see that
old Mrs. Tozer, looking like an old washerwoman, with a girl in a
twenty-guinea dress, you may take my word for it, though as plain as
that little brown frock of yours, Ursula. That was a sight to wake any
one up."
Ursula looked down at the little brown frock thus contemptuously
referred to, with mingled offence and consciousness of inferiority. It
had not cost as many shillings, and had been made up at home, and was
not a shining example of the dressmaker's art. "If you value people
according to what their dress costs--"
"I can't know much about her moral qualities, can I?" said Mrs. Hurst,
"and I don't suppose she has any position, being old Tozer's grandchild.
But she wasn't amiss in her looks, and I declare I should have taken her
for a lady if I had met her in the street. It shows how one may be taken
in. And this is a lesson for you, young girls; you must never trust to
appearances. I confess I'd like to find out some more about her. Going
in, Ursula? Well, my dear, perhaps I'll step in for a talk in the
evening. You must be dull after your gaiety. Tell your dear papa," said
Mrs. Hurst with a laugh, "that I am coming to sit with you after tea.
Now mind you give him my message. He does not like to miss me when I
come to the Parsonage, does he now? Good-bye for the present. Till eight
o'clock."
"Oh, how I hate her," cried Janey, "except sometimes when she makes me
laugh and I feel tempted to like her; but I always resist it. Do you
think really, Ursula, that papa could be--such a--stupid--"
"Oh, please don't ask me," cried Ursula. "How can I tell? I don't know
what he may do; but if he does--and if she does--oh, then, Janey--"
"Yes, indeed, then!" said Janey, breathing hard. This mysterious threat
seemed very horrible to both of them, though what they meant by it, it
would have been very hard for either of them to tell. They waited within
the little shrubbery whispering to each other till they heard Mrs. Hurst
close her own door, for they did not want any more of her society,
though they had no intention of going in. When she was safe out of the
way, they stole out and continued their walk in the opposite direction.
"I wanted to have gone into the town," said Ursula. "It _is_ hard to
have that woman next door; one can't go anywhere or do anything! I
wanted some braid for your new frock, Janey, and twist to make the
button-holes; but if we had said we were going up into Carlingford, she
would have come too. Never mind; a walk is better than nothing. Walk
fast, and let us try how far we can go before tea."
Upon this idea the two girls set out walking as if for a race, which did
them all the good in the world, quickening the blood in their veins,
sending the colour to their cheeks, and dispersing all the cobwebs from
their minds, since they soon got into the spirit of the race, and
pursued it with eagerness, with little outbursts of laughter, and
breathless adjurations to each other to keep within the proper pace, and
not to run. It was not a very inviting road along which they took their
walk. Beyond St. Roque the land was divided into allotments for the
working people, not very tidily kept, and rough with cut cabbages,
plants, and dug-up potatoes. Beyond this lay a great turnip-field,
somewhat rank in smell, and the east wind swept chill along the open
road, which was not sheltered by a single tree, so that the attractions
of the way soon palled upon pedestrians. Looking back to Grange Lane,
the snug and sheltered look of that genteel adjunct to the town was
comforting to behold. Even Grange Lane was not gay; a line of garden
walls, however they may shelter and comfort the gardens within, are not
lovely without; but yet the trees, though leafless, waved over the red
lines of brick, and the big laurels hung out bushes of dark verdure and
long floating sprays of ivy.
"Let's turn back; perhaps she may not be at the window," cried Ursula.
"It is so dull here."
Janey stopped short in the heat of the walk, objecting for the moment.
"I wish you had not gone to London. You never used to care for the
streets and the shops; now a regular good walk is too much for you,"
cried Janey.
"With a turnip-field on one side and a potato-field on the other!" said
Ursula, in high disdain.
"I tell you what!" cried Janey. "I don't think I like you since you came
back. The Dorsets are fine people, and we are not fine. There are no
grand parties, nor theatres, nor balls at Carlingford. When we go out
here, we go to walk, not to see things, as you have been used to doing.
I don't know what you mean by it; nineteen years with us, and one
fortnight with them! and the fortnight counts for more than all the
years!"
Janey was not in the habit of restraining her voice any more than
anything else about her, and she spoke this out with loud school-girl
tones, reckless who might hear her. In most cases she might have done
this with the utmost impunity, and how was she to know, as she said to
her sister afterwards, in self-defence, that any one, especially any
gentleman, could be lurking about, spying upon people, among those nasty
allotments? There was some one there, however, who came down the muddy
path, all cut up by the wheel-barrows, with a smile upon his face. A
gentleman? Janey called him so without a doubt on the subject; but
Ursula, more enlightened and slightly irritated, had her doubts. He was
dressed, not with any care of morning costume, but wore a black
frock-coat of the most formal description, with a white cravat
carelessly tied, semi-clerical, and yet not clerical. He had a smile on
his face, which, on the whole, was rather a handsome face, and looked at
them, showing evident signs of having heard what Janey said. To be sure,
he did not say anything, but Ursula felt that his look was just the same
as if he had spoken, and coloured high, resenting the intrusion. By this
stranger's side was one of the men who had been working at the
allotments, whose hands were not clean, and whose boots were heavy with
the clinging, clayey soil. When they had nearly reached the road, the
gentleman turned round and shook hands with his companion, and then
walked on towards Carlingford, throwing another look towards the girls
as he passed. It would be hard to say whether curiosity or anger was
strongest in Ursula. In Janey, the former sentiment carried everything
before it.
"Oh, I wonder who he is?" she cried, low, but eager, in her sister's
ear. "Who can he be, Ursula, who can he be? We know all the men about
here, every one, as well as we know Reginald. Oh, Ursula, who do you
think he can be?"
"He is very impertinent," cried Ursula, with an angry blush. "How should
I know? And oh! how very silly of you, Janey, to talk so loud, and make
impudent men stare at us so."
"Impudent!" cried Janey. "I didn't talk loud. He looked rather nice, on
the contrary. Why, he laughed! Do you call that impudent? It can't be
anybody from the town, because we know everybody; and did you see him
shaking hands with that man? How very funny! Let us run in and tell Mrs.
Sam Hurst, and ask her who she thinks he is. She is sure to know."
"Janey," said Ursula, severely, "if you live very long, you will be as
great a gossip and as fond of news as Mrs. Sam Hurst herself."
"I don't care," cried Janey; "you're just as fond of news as I am, only
you won't confess it. I am dying to know who he is. He is quite
nice-looking, and tall and grand. A new gentleman! Come, quick, Ursula;
let us get back and see where he goes."
"Janey!" cried the elder sister. She was half curious herself, but
Ursula was old enough to know better, and to be ashamed of the other's
naïve and undisguised curiosity. "Oh, what would Cousin Anne say! A girl
running after a gentleman (even if he is a gentleman), to see where he
goes!"
"Well!" cried Janey, "if she wants to know, what else is she to do? Who
cares for Cousin Anne? She is an old maid. Why, if it had been a lady, I
shouldn't have minded. There are so many ladies; but a new gentleman! If
you won't come on, I will run by myself. How pleased Mrs. Sam Hurst will
be!"
"I thought you hated Mrs. Sam Hurst?"
"So I do when I think of papa; but when there's anything going on, or
anything to find out, I like her dearly. She's such fun! She never
shilly-shallies, like you. She's not an old maid like your Cousin Anne
that you are always talking of. Come along! if anybody else finds out
who he is before we do," cried Janey, with almost despairing energy, "I
shall break my heart!"
Ursula stoically resisted the tug upon her, but she went back to Grange
Lane, to which, indeed, she had turned her face before they met the
stranger, and she could not help seeing the tall black figure in front
of her which Janey watched so eagerly. Ursula was not eager, but she
could not help seeing him. He walked up the street quickly, not as if he
thought himself of interest to any one, but when he had got half way up
Grange Lane, crossed to speak to somebody. This filled Janey with
consternation.
"He is not such a stranger after all," she cried. "He knows some one. He
will not be quite a discovery. Who is it he is talking to, I wonder? He
is standing at one of the doors, but it is not Miss Humphreys, nor Miss
Griffiths, nor any of the Charters. Perhaps she is a stranger too. If he
is married he won't be half so interesting, for there are always plenty
of ladies. Perhaps he has just come by the railway to spend the day--but
then there is nothing to see in Carlingford, and how did he know that
man at the lots? Oh, Ursula, why don't you answer me? why don't you say
something? have you no feeling? I am sure it don't matter a bit to me,
for I am not out; I am never asked to parties--but I take an interest
for you other girls' sake."
Before this time, however, Ursula had found a new object of interest.
She had not been quite so unmoved as Janey supposed. A new gentleman was
a thing to awaken anybody who knew Carlingford, for, indeed, gentlemen
were scarce in the society of the little town, and even at the most mild
of tea-parties it is ludicrous to see one man (and that most likely a
curate) among a dozen ladies--so that even when she appeared to Janey to
wonder, she felt that her sister's curiosity was not unjustifiable. But
while thus engaged in the enterprise of discovering "a new gentleman"
for the good of society, Ursula's eyes and her attention were caught by
another interest. The stranger had crossed the street to talk to a lady,
who had been walking down the Lane, and whom Ursula felt she had seen
somewhere. Who was it? Certainly not Miss Humphreys, nor Miss Griffiths,
nor any other of the well-known young ladies of Grange Lane. The setting
sun, which had come out suddenly after a dull day, threw a slanting,
long-drawn ray up the street, which fell upon the strangers, as they
stood talking. This ray caught the young lady's hair, and flashed back a
reflection out of the shining coils which looked to Ursula (being dark
herself, she admired golden hair more than anything) as bright as the
sunshine. And in the light she caught the out-line of a pretty head, and
of a nose slightly "tip-tilted," according to the model which the
Laureate has brought into fashion. Where had she seen her before? She
remembered all at once with a rush of bewildered pleasure.
"Janey! Oh, Janey!" she cried, "Listen! This is too extraordinary. There
is the young lady in black!"
Janey, as may be supposed, had heard every detail of Mrs. Copperhead's
ball, and knew what Ursula meant as well as Ursula herself did. She grew
pale with excitement and curiosity. "No!" she said, "you can't mean it.
Are you sure, are you quite sure? Two new people in one day! Why,
everybody must be coming to Carlingford. It makes me feel quite
strange!" said this susceptible young woman; "the young lady in black!"
"Oh, yes, there can't be any mistake," said Ursula, hurrying on in her
excitement, "I looked at her so much. I couldn't mistake her. Oh, I
wonder if she will know me, I wonder if she will speak to me! or if she
is going to see the Dorsets, or what has brought her to Carlingford.
Only fancy, Janey, the young lady in black whom I have talked so much
of; oh, I wonder, I do wonder what has brought her here."
They were on the opposite side of the lane, so that their hurried
approach did not startle the strangers; but Phoebe, looking up at the
sound of the footsteps, saw a face she knew looking wistfully, eagerly
at her, with evident recognition. Phoebe had a faculty quite royal of
remembering faces, and it took but a moment to recall Ursula's to her.
Another moment was spent in a rapid discussion with herself, as to
whether she should give or withhold the salutation which the girl
evidently sought. But what harm could it do? and it would be pleasant to
know some one; and if on finding out who she was, Miss Dorset's little
relation shrank from her acquaintance, why then, Phoebe said to herself,
"I shall be no worse than before." So she sent a smile and a bow across
the road and said, "How do you do?" in a pause of her conversation.
Ursula was too shy to feel on equal terms with the young lady in black,
who was so much more self-possessed than she was. She blushed and
smiled, answered, "Quite well, thank you," across the lane like a child,
and notwithstanding a great many pokes from Janey's energetic elbow,
went on without further response.
"Oh, why can't you run across and speak to her?" cried Janey, "oh, how
funny you are, and how disagreeable! would _I_ pass any one I knew, like
that!"
"You don't understand, you are only a child," said Ursula, frightened
and agitated, yet full of dignity, "we have only met--in society. When
you are introduced to any one in society it does not count. Perhaps they
might not want to know you; perhaps--but anyhow you can't rush up to
them like two girls at school. You have to wait and see what they will
do."
"Well, I declare!" cried Janey; "then what is the good of society? You
know them, and yet you mustn't know them. I would never be such a fool
as that. Fancy looking at her across the lane and saying 'quite well,
thank you,' after she had begun to speak. I suppose that's Cousin Anne's
way? I should have rushed across and asked where she was staying, and
when she would come to see us. Ursula, oh," cried Janey, suddenly
changing her tone, and looking at her sister with eyes which had widened
to twice their natural size with the grandeur of the idea, "you will
have to ask her to tea!"
"Oh, you silly girl, do you think she would come? you should have seen
her at the ball. She knew everybody, and had such quantities of
partners. Mr. Clarence Copperhead was always dancing with her. Fancy her
coming to tea with us." But Ursula herself was somewhat breathless with
the suggestion. When a thing has been once said, there is always a
chance that it may be done, and the two girls walked up very quickly
into the High Street after this, silent, with a certain awe of
themselves and their possibilities. It might be done, now that it had
been said.