"La souveraine habilite consiste a bien connoitre le prix des choses."
_La Rochefoucauld_.
There was an earnest, wistful, far-away look in Gatty's eyes, as though
some treasure-house had been opened to her, the existence of which she
had never previously suspected; but neither she nor Phoebe said a word
to each other as they crossed the Park, and went up the wide white steps
of the Abbey.
"Where on earth have you been, you gadabouts?" came in Rhoda's voice
from the interior of the hall. "Oh, but I've such a jolly piece of news
for you! Molly and me heard it from Madam. Guess what it is."
Rhoda's grammar was more free and easy than correct at all times; and
Phoebe could not help thinking that in that respect, as in others, she
had perceptibly deteriorated by contact with Molly.
"I don't care to hear it, thank you," said Gatty, rather hastily,
walking straight upstairs.
"Oh, don't you, Mrs Prim?" demanded Rhoda. "Well, it doesn't concern
you much. Now, Phoebe, guess!"
Phoebe felt very little in tune for the sort of amusement usually
patronised by Rhoda. But she set herself to gratify that rather
exacting young lady.
"I don't guess things well," she said. "Is one of your aunts coming?"
"My aunts!" repeated Rhoda, in supreme scorn. "Not if I know it, thank
you. I said it was jolly. Why, Phoebe! to guess such a thing as that!"
"Well, I should be pleased enough if mine were coming to see me," said
Phoebe, good-temperedly. "I don't know what else to guess. Has some
one given you a present?"
"Wish they had!" ejaculated Rhoda. "No, I'm sorry to say nobody's had
so much good sense. But there's somebody--I shall have to tell you
sooner or later, you stupid goose, so I may as well do it now--
somebody's coming to Number Four. Mrs Eleanor Darcy, a cousin of my
Lord Polesworth--only think!--and (that's best of all) she's got a
nephew."
"How is that best of all?" asked Phoebe.
"Mr Marcus Welles--isn't it a pretty name?--and he will come with her,
to settle her in her new house. `_Why_?' Oh, what a silly Phoebe you
are! He has three thousand a year."
"Then I should think he might take better care of his aunt than let her
be an indigent gentlewoman," said Phoebe, rather warmly.
"As if he would want to be pothered with an old aunt!" cried Rhoda.
"But I'll tell you what (you are so silly, you want telling
everything!)--I mean to set my cap at him."
"Won't you have some cleaner lace on it first?" suggested Phoebe, with
the exceedingly quiet, dry fun which was one of her characteristics.
"You stupid, literal thing!" said Rhoda. "I might as well talk to the
cat. Oh, here you come, Molly! Now for tea, if 'tis ready, and then--"
Madam was already at the tea-table, and Baxter was just bringing in the
kettle.
"I trust you have had a pleasant walk, my dears," said she, kindly, as
the four girls filed in--Molly first, Phoebe last.
"Middling," said Molly, taking the initiative as usual. "Robbed
seventeen birds' nests, climbed twenty-four trees, and jumped over a
dozen five-barred gates."
"Oh, did you!" murmured Phoebe, in a shocked tone, too horrified for
silence.
Rhoda went into convulsions behind her handkerchief.
"Innocent little darling!" exclaimed Molly; "she thinks we did!"
"You said so," answered Phoebe, reproachfully.
"You are so smart, my dear Mrs Molly," said Madam, smilingly. "Did you
all walk together?"
"No, I thank you!" responded Molly. "Gatty and the innocent little dear
went to a Quakers' meeting."
Had Madam taken the assertion literally, she would have been alarmed and
horrified indeed; for at that time all Dissenters were considered
dangerous characters, and Quakers the worst of all. But, recognising it
as one of Molly's flights of intellect, she smiled placidly, and said no
more.
"My dear, I think you will be acquainted with Mrs Eleanor Darcy?" asked
Madam, addressing herself to Gatty.
"She has visited my mother, but only once," answered Gatty.
"Oh, the pootsy-bootsy!" broke in Molly. "Isn't she a sweet, charming,
handsome creature?--the precious dear!"
"I fear she doth not please you, Mrs Molly?" asked Madam, interpreting
Molly's exclamation by the rule of contrary.
"She's the ugliest old baboon that ever grinned!" was Molly's
complimentary reply.
"What say you, Mrs Gatty?"
"She is certainly not handsome," answered Gatty, apparently with some
reluctance; "but I have heard her well spoken of, as very kind and
good."
"Have you met with Mr Welles, her nephew, my dear?"
Molly had clasped her hands, leaned back, lifted her eyes with an
expression of sentimental rapture, and was executing an effective
_tableau vivant_.
"Yes, I have seen him two or three times," said Gatty.
"Is he a young man of an agreeable turn?" inquired Madam.
"He is very handsome," replied Gatty, rather doubtfully, as if she
hardly knew what to say.
"Pleasant as a companion?" pursued Madam.
"People generally think so, I believe," answered Gatty, with studied
vagueness.
"You dear old concatenation, you'll get nothing out of my wretch of a
sister," impetuously cried Molly.
"I'll tell you all about Marcus. He's the brightest eyes that ever
shone, and the sweetest voice that praised your fine eyes, and the most
delightful manners! White hands, and a capital leg, and never treads on
your corns. Oh, there's nobody like him. I mean to marry him."
"Molly!" said Gatty. It was the first time she had offered anything
like a reproof to her sister.
"Now, you hold your tongue, Mrs Prude!" responded Molly. "You're not a
bit better than I am."
Gatty made no reply.
"Don't you set up to be either a prig or a saint!" continued Molly,
angrily. "Betty's enough. She isn't a saint; but she's a prig. If
ever you're either, I'll lead you a life!"
And there could be little doubt of Molly's fulfilling her threat.
The next day, Gatty and Molly Delawarr went home. Betty had quite
recovered, and was gone to stay with a friend near Bristol; the house
had been thoroughly disinfected, and was pronounced free from all
danger; and Lady Delawarr thought there was no longer need for the girls
to remain away.
"I wonder what will become of me without you, Molly!" said Rhoda,
dolefully.
"Oh, you'll have plenty to do, old Gatepost," observed Molly, apparently
in allusion to Rhoda's uneventful life. "You've got to fall in love
with Marcus. I'll cut you into slices if you do, and make buttered
toast of you."
"Good-bye!" said Rhoda laughing.
"_Vale_!" responded Molly.
"Good-bye, dear little Phoebe!" was Gatty's farewell. "I wonder what
would have become of me if I had not met you and Mrs Dorothy. For I
have asked Him to be my Friend,--you know,--and I think, I _think_ He
will."
"I am sure of it. Good-bye."
And so Gatty and Molly passed out of the life at White-Ladies.
On returning to the old order of things, Phoebe found Rhoda, as she
expected, considerably changed for the worse. What had been a sort of
good-humoured condescension was altered into absolute snappishness, and
Phoebe was sorely tried. But the influence of Molly, bad as it had
been, proved temporary. Rhoda sank by degrees--or shall I say rose?--
into her old self, and Phoebe presently had no more to bear than before
the visit from Delawarr Court.
About a fortnight after the departure of Gatty and Molly, as Phoebe was
sitting at the parlour window with her work, she perceived Mrs Jane
Talbot, hooded, cloaked, and pattened,--for the afternoon was damp,--
marching up to the side door. The fact was communicated to Madam, who
rose and glanced at herself in the chimney-glass, and ringing her little
hand-bell, desired Baxter to show Mrs Jane into the parlour.
"Good afternoon, Mrs Jane; 'tis a pleasure I did not look for," said
Madam, as she rose.
"Your servant, Madam," returned Mrs Jane, who had divested herself of
cloak and pattens in the hall.
"Pray be seated, Mrs Jane. And what brings you hither?--for methinks
some matter of import will have called you out on so rainy a day as
this."
"Easy to guess," answered Mrs Jane, taking a seat as requested, and
delivering her communication in short, blunt sentences, like small shot.
"A whim of Marcella's. Got a fancy for Port O Port. Sent me to beg a
sup of you, Madam. Fancies it will cure her. Fiftieth time she has
thought so, of something. All nonsense. Can't help it."
"Indeed, my dear Mrs Jane, I am happy to be capable of helping Mrs
Marcella to her fancy, and trust it may be of the advantage she
thinks.--Phoebe! tell Betty to bid Baxter bring hither a bottle of the
best Port O Port--that from the little ark in the further cellar.--And
how does Mrs Marcella this afternoon?"
"As cross as two sticks," said Mrs Jane.
"She is a great sufferer," observed Madam, in her kindest manner.
Mrs Jane made no reply, unless her next remark could properly be called
one.
"Mrs Darcy came last night."
"Last night!" answered Madam, in accents of surprise. "Dear! I quite
understood she was not to arrive before this evening. You have seen
her, Mrs Jane?"
"Seen her! Oh dear, yes; I've seen her. We were schoolfellows."
"Were you, indeed? That I did not know. 'Twill be a pleasure to you,
Mrs Jane, to have an old schoolfellow so near."
"Depends," said Mrs Jane sententiously.
"No doubt," answered Madam. "Were you and Mrs Eleanor friends at
school, Mrs Jane?"
"No, Madam."
"Not? Perhaps you were not near enough of an age."
"Only six months between. No; that wasn't it. I was a silly
scapegrace, and she was a decent, good maid. Too good for me. I
haven't got any better. And she hasn't got any handsomer."
"Pray forgive me," replied Madam, with a smile, "but I cannot think that
name applies to you now, Mrs Jane. And was her nephew with Mrs
Eleanor; as he engaged?"
"Large as life," said Mrs Jane.
"And how large is that, in his case?" inquired Madam.
"Asking him or me?" retorted Mrs Jane. "_I_ should say, about as big
as a field mouse. He thinks himself big enough to overtop all the
elephants in creation. Marcus Welles! Oh, yes, I'll mark him well,--
you trust me."
It was tolerably evident that Mr Welles had not succeeded in
fascinating Mrs Jane, whatever he might do to other people.
"I was told he was extreme handsome?" remarked Madam, in a tone of
inquiry.