THE SISTERS.
ON Tuesday afternoon, word came to us, that the Ladies Leighton had
arrived at the Queen's Head Inn, and we at once set off to pay our duty
to them, accompanied by Mrs. Thorpe herself, dressed all in her best.
The Queen's Head Inn was the oldest in the town, and had always been
considered the best till of late, a new hostelry called the Crown
had been built and furnished at a great expense by a company of
speculators. This new inn or hotel (as it began to be the fashion to
call them), was expected to carry off all the custom of the gentry, by
its superior accommodation. But the county families of Northumberland,
are like other county families—not at all fond of novelties. The
Queen's Head continued to be patronized, and the new house was like to
be a losing speculation.
The Queen's Head was a great rambling old pile, with tier upon tier of
galleries surrounding a spacious court-yard, in which we recognized
the family coach of the Leighton ladies, at least Mrs. Thorpe did, for
we knew very little of such matters at that time. We were conducted up
stairs and along a gallery, and through a passage, and finally found
ourselves in a private sitting-room, furnished in a comfortably dingy
fashion, where we found the three ladies.
Mrs. Deborah welcomed us with great kindness, and presented us to her
sisters in this fashion.
"Sister Philippa, and Sister Chloe, this is our niece Amabel Leighton,
and this is Lucy Corbet, daughter of Mr. Walter Corbet, and Mrs.
Rosamond Treverthy, and my brother's adopted child."
Mrs. Chloe, who was evidently much the youngest of the three ladies,
welcomed us with great cordiality, kissing us on the cheek, and
immediately presented us in exactly the same form to Mrs. Philippa, the
other sister.
Mrs. Philippa, who had heretofore appeared unconscious of our
existence, now rose in her turn and welcomed us, with a little more
stiffness in her manner. All three of the ladies then saluted Mrs.
Thorpe, with gracious condescension.
"I hope I see you well, nieces!" said Mrs. Deborah.
"Yes, we hope we see you well, nieces!" echoed Mrs. Chloe. "Sister
Philippa, no doubt you hope to see our nieces well."
"I hope I see my niece well!" said Mrs. Philippa, biting off the word
niece as if she had a spite at it. "I hope also, that I see the other
young lady well, but as she is not our niece, I do not understand
why my Sister Deborah should call her so. But I never do pretend to
understand my Sister Deborah."
"Oh Sister Philippe, I am sure—" said Mrs. Chloe. And then she looked
at Mrs. Deborah in an appealing way.
"Miss Corbet is our kinswoman, Sister Chloe, and our brother's adopted
daughter, so I see no reason why we should not call her our niece, if
she likes to have us for aunts!" she added, relaxing her black brows as
she turned to me with a smile.
I was considerably embarrassed, but I could only curtsy and say that
she was very kind, and I should be very grateful for her notice.
"Yes, Sister Deborah is very kind!" said Mrs. Chloe. Then in a loud
whisper, "You must not mind poor Sister Philippa! She is rather
peculiar, but I am sure she means well."
"Sister Chloe, I desire that you will not trouble yourself to apologize
for me!" said Mrs. Philippa tartly, hearing or guessing the import
of the whisper. "No doubt the young ladies will find me out for
themselves. I dare say Miss Corbet is a nice young woman enough, and
I have nothing to say against her, though I may not have my Sister
Deborah's reasons for adopting her at once."
Mrs. Deborah frowned again, and the color rose in her cheeks, but she
did not speak. Mrs. Philippa, having relieved herself as I suppose
by saying the most spiteful thing she could think of, became quite
gracious, asked us our ages, and seemed surprised when she heard that
we had lately passed our eighteenth birthdays.
"Is it possible that it is nearly eighteen years since my brother went
abroad?" said she. "Well, well—and you are fine well-grown girls, no
doubt, and carry yourselves well. They do you great credit, my good
Mrs. Thorpe."
"I have had but little to do with their education beyond supplying them
with masters since they have been with me, madam," replied Mrs. Thorpe,
curtsying. "All the credit belongs to the good ladies at the French
convent, where they were brought up."
"I understand you are Papists," said Mrs. Philippa, turning again to
us. "But you must drop all that now. We cannot have Papists in our
family, though some people, I believe, have no objection to them."
Again I saw Mrs. Deborah frown, but she did not speak.
Amabel answered quietly that we had attended the Church of England
for several months. While I wondered if Mrs. Philippa thought one's
religion a thing to be dropped like a hoop-petticoat when it was not
convenient.
"You must follow your own consciences about that, nieces," observed
Mrs. Deborah. "We shall be glad to have you go to church with us, of
course, but no constraint shall be put upon you. Sister Chloe, will you
be kind enough to ring for supper? Mrs. Thorpe, you will remain and sup
with us."
"Yes, Mrs. Thorpe, you will certainly remain and sup with us," chimed
in Mrs. Chloe. "Sister Philippa, no doubt you wish for the pleasure of
Mrs. Thorpe's company to supper."
"I hope Mrs. Thorpe will please herself in the matter," answered Mrs.
Philippa. "I have no doubt she will have a much better supper at home
than we shall, but if she likes to remain, she is quite welcome."
Mrs. Thorpe, who I thought seemed to understand pretty well with whom
she had to deal, thanked the ladies, but declined the invitation.
"Having," as she said, "business to attend to at home."
"Very well," said Mrs. Deborah. "Do you wish to keep these girls of
ours for a night or two more, or shall they stay here with us till we
go?"
"I shall be only too glad to keep them as long as I can, Mrs. Deborah,"
answered Mrs. Thorpe. "I fear I shall miss them sadly when they are
gone, for I am sure no one ever had two more agreeable and amiable
young ladies in her family."
"I am glad to hear you say so, and it speaks well for both parties,"
said Mrs. Deborah.
"Yes, indeed, it speaks well for both parties," said Mrs. Chloe!
"Sister Philippa, are you not glad to hear Mrs. Thorpe say that the
young ladies have been agreeable and amiable?"
"Sister Chloe, I wish you would let me have an opinion of any own now
and then," was the reply. "Of course Mrs. Thorpe would say nothing less
now that her lodgers are going away. She may expect to have them back
at some time."
"I shall only be too glad to have them back at any time, Mrs.
Philippa," answered Mrs. Thorpe, with some spirit. "And I only speak
what I think in saying that I have never known two better young ladies."
"I dare say you are right, Mrs. Thorpe, and I am sure we are greatly
obliged to you for your care of them," said Mrs. Deborah. "I shall see
you to-morrow, and talk over a few matters with you. We are going to
stay over a day, as we wish to make a few purchases."
Mrs. Thorpe took her leave, and the servant coming to the door at the
same moment, Mrs. Deborah ordered supper, Mrs. Chloe agreeing in all
she said, and Mrs. Philippa as regularly disagreeing with her.
"If Sister Deborah has no objection, Sister Chloe, I will take supper
in my own room," said Mrs. Philippa, rising from the sofa, where she
had been lying ever since we had come in. "I am very much fatigued, and
not at all in spirits to make me fit to entertain company. Perhaps you
will have the goodness to call Tupper."
The person in question being called, accordingly entered from the next
room, and giving her arm to Mrs. Philippa led her away, though I must
say Mrs. Philippa, did not look as though she stood in need of such
help.
We were all the more comfortable for her absence. Mrs. Deborah relaxed
her brows, and Mrs. Chloe lost something of her uneasy and apprehensive
manner, and seemed as if she were preparing to enjoy herself. She was
a woman of about thirty-five, I should say, and must have been very
pretty before her face was disfigured by the smallpox. She had still a
neat, trim figure, and dressed and carried herself remarkably well, and
when she smiled she showed a set of wonderfully even white teeth.
Mrs. Philippa was decidedly stout, with red hair, and handsome features
which were disfigured with the strongest expression of fretful
ill-temper that I ever saw on any face. She looked well enough in
health, and certainly the dishes which went in to her full and came out
empty did not look as if she suffered from want of appetite, yet I soon
learned that it w as her pleasure to consider herself an invalid, and
that she kept her bed or sofa most of the time. I learned more about
her afterward, which I shall tell in its place.
We became very chatty and familiar over our supper. Mrs. Deborah
herself took only some bits of dry toast and a glass of wine and water,
but she had ordered a roast fowl, and various dainties in the shape of
cakes and creams, which she seemed pleased to see us enjoy. She asked
us about our lessons, expressed her satisfaction in our progress, and
avowed her determination to purchase a harpsichord for us.
"We have an old-fashioned spinet and an organ, but the spinet is past
use, I fear. No one has touched either of them since Sister Philippa
gave up playing."
"Do you not remember, Sister Deborah, that Mr. Cheriton played the
organ the last time he came with his mother to dine with us?" Mrs.
Chloe ventured to remark. "He said the instrument was in good order."
"Very true, so he did. Your memory is better than mine, Sister Chloe,
as is to be expected at your age. Do either of you play the organ,
nieces?"
"Amabel plays," said I. "She used sometimes to play in the church when
Sister Filomena was not able."
"And do you sing?" asked Mrs. Deborah. "I hope you do for we are all
fond of singing."
"Lucy sings!" said Amabel, answering for me, as I had done for her.
"Mr. Lilburne thinks she has a fine voice, and he has been teaching her
some of Mr. Handel's songs."
There was a harpsichord in the room, and as Mrs. Deborah asked to hear
me, I sung the last lesson I had learned, "I know that my Redeemer
liveth," while Amabel played the accompaniment for me. I saw Mrs.
Philippa's door softly opened a little bit while I was singing.
"That is beautiful!" said Mrs. Deborah, with a good deal of feeling
when I had concluded. "I never heard it before. You have given us a
treat we did not expect, niece."
"Yes indeed, a treat we did not expect!" added Mrs. Chloe. "I hope poor
Sister Philippa will enjoy your music, niece. She used to be very fond
of it. Do you think she will enjoy it, Sister Deborah?"
"I cannot say, I am sure!" was the answer. "It is not easy to tell what
Philippa will like, you know. She is sometimes very much disturbed by
noise."
The remark was made in a slightly raised tone, and I fancy was meant to
be heard in the next room. Tupper opened the door directly afterward.
"My mistress would like to hear the young lady sing something else, if
she knows any thing but psalm tunes!" said she, with a queer half-smile
on her shrewd face.
"Do you know anything but psalm tunes, Niece Corbet?" asked Mrs. Chloe
anxiously. "Not that I should call that a psalm tune."
Luckily we had learned some of Dr. Purcell's pretty music to the words
of "The Tempest," and I sung Ariel's song—"When the bee sucks," and one
or two others.
"There, you must not tire yourselves!" said Mrs. Deborah kindly, after
Amabel had played "The Harmonious Blacksmith," and one or two other
lessons. "It is time you were going home. I will send Richard with you.
You must come and breakfast with us, and then we will go out together.
De you need any new clothes?"
"No madam!" answered Amabel. "We have abundance of everything."
"Very good. My Sister Chloe wishes to buy some new morning gowns, and
there are a few matters needed for the house, which I may as well see
to now I am here. There, good-night. Be here by eight o'clock, or is
that too early for my town-bred misses?"
She spoke these words smilingly, and Amabel answered in the same way.
"Oh no, aunt, we are early risers."
"Why, that is well; we shall suit all the better."
"Yes, we shall suit all the better!" added Mrs. Chloe. "My sister
Deborah is a very early riser, and so am I; but poor Philippa is a sad
invalid, and she keeps her hours to suit herself. Indeed, she lives
quite by herself when she is at home, as you will see."
"Let them see then, and don't keep them to discuss family matters
to-night, Sister Chloe!" said Mrs. Deborah, with a little impatience in
her tone. "There, good-night."
We were not sorry to find ourselves once more in our own pretty room,
which we were so soon to leave. We lighted our candles and sat down to
our Bible reading as usual.
"Heigh ho! What pleasant times we have had since we came into this
little parlor, and how much we have learned!" said I, as we rose to get
ready for bed. "I wonder what sort of room we shall have at Highbeck
Hall. I don't believe we shall have one as pretty as this, do you?"
"I am sure I don't know, but I doubt it will not be as pleasant in all
ways!" answered Amabel. "However, Mrs. Chloe says Mrs. Philippa keeps
her own room a good deal, so I hope she will not be in our way, or we
in hers. Did you notice, Lucy, that she never spoke to Aunt Deborah
once?"
"I saw she did not. Everything had to go through poor Aunt Chloe. But
is it not very kind in the ladies to call me niece? It is much more
than I expected, I am sure," said I. "I think we may get on with Mrs.
Deborah and Mrs. Chloe well enough, and as to Mrs. Philippa, why if we
cannot coax her round, we must just let her alone as far as possible. I
am glad she likes music."
"Yes, it gives one something to take hold of. Well, we can settle
nothing beforehand—we can only wait and see. But, Lucy, if I had not
learned something more than we knew in the convent—if I had not learned
to trust to my Father in Heaven, and to feel sure that He will order
everything that is best for us—I should feel as though we were indeed
going into banishment. Good-night, dear!"
The next morning, eight o'clock found us in the sitting-room at the
Queen's Head. Neither of the ladies was to be seen, but we heard Mrs.
Chloe's voice in the next room.
"We talked about buying a new harpsichord, as the old spinet is out
of order, but I don't know—Deborah thinks it will be a good deal of
expense and trouble."
"Of course she does, since she knows it would please me!" Mrs. Philippa
broke in. "That would be enough to set her against it. Mind, Chloe, I
will have a harpsichord for these girls, if I have to go out and buy
it myself. You can tell Deborah so if you like. I have always been the
sacrifice—always had to give up in everything, but I will have my own
way in this matter."
"Well, there, don't excite yourself!" said Mrs. Chloe soothingly. And
then Tupper's voice chimed in—"I suppose of course you will get up to
breakfast, Mrs. Philippa, since the young ladies are coming?"
"No, that I won't!" was the tart reply. "You ought to know better than
to think of such a thing, Tupper. I don't think I shall get up to-day;
you can bring me some chocolate and an egg, if a fresh one can be had
in this odious place, and some bacon, and jam, and a fresh roll—no, I
won't have a fresh roll, I will have some buttered toast, and you may
get me out the first volume of Tom Jones. Do go away, Chloe, and let me
have my breakfast in peace."
As Mrs. Chloe came out into the sitting-room and closed the door after
her, she did not look as though she were greatly troubled by Mrs.
Philippa's determination to stay in bed all day. Indeed, from what I
learned afterward, I had no doubt at all, that it was the result of a
conspiracy between herself and Tupper, to keep Mrs. Philippa quiet. She
was so bent upon having her own way, and upon not being governed, that
she habitually chose the exact contrary of everything proposed to her.
Mrs. Deborah seldom condescended to manage her sister in this way, but
neither Mrs. Chloe nor Tupper scrupled to do so.
We rose, of course, as Mrs. Chloe came in, and she greeted us each with
great kindness.
"I am glad to see you, nieces. Sister Deborah is below looking after
the horses—she likes to see herself how they are attended to—and Sister
Philippa, poor thing, is not well this morning, and will not get up."
Then lowering her voice to a whisper—"You must have great patience with
your Aunt Philippa, my dears. She is peculiar, without doubt. Even I
can see that."
Well she might, poor lady, since she had to bear the brunt of most of
these peculiarities.
"But she has always been delicate, and she had a disappointment in
early life," sinking her voice still lower. "She has been an invalid
ever since, and often keeps her bed for weeks at a time." Here Mrs.
Chloe's words were interrupted by a fit of coughing, which seemed
enough to shake her to pieces. "There, never mind, girls, I have had
this cough ever since I got over the smallpox. It is not much, only it
takes my breath away. If you could fan me a little!"
Amabel hastened to do so, and I took from my pocket a box of comfits
Mrs. Thorpe had given me, and offered them to her.
"Yes, that is just the thing—thank you, niece Corbet, I am better now.
It is rather trying at times, but when I think how much more poor
Philippa suffers, I ought not to complain. Oh yes, I am much better.
It is of no consequence. It will soon wear off. And here comes Sister
Deborah."
Mrs. Deborah made us welcome, and we sat down to breakfast. The meal
was a very pleasant one. Deborah inquired somewhat anxiously how Mrs.
Chloe had rested, remarking that she thought she heard her coughing
just now.
"Yes, I did cough a little, but my niece Corbet had some comfits for
me, and they helped me very much. Oh yes, I assure you, Sister Deborah,
I am very much better. I shall be quite well when the frosty weather
comes to brace me up a little. Do you know where Mrs. Thorpe found
those comfits, niece?"
"I believe she has them for sale," I answered; "but, Aunt Chloe—I
beg your pardon, madam," I faltered, confused by the liberty I had
inadvertently taken.
"Oh call me Aunt Chloe, my dear," said Mrs. Chloe, evidently pleased.
"It sounds as if you loved me already. Sister Deborah, do you not think
it has a pretty sound to hear Lucy Corbet say Aunt Chloe?"
"Very pretty," replied Mrs. Deborah. "I am glad Lucy Corbet feels so
much at home with us. But what were you going to say, niece?"
"I was going to say, madam, that if I had some hips, and currant jelly,
and honey, and poppy-heads, I could make a confection that might help
my Aunt Chloe's cough. I learned the recipe at the convent, where we
used to make many such things, and I know this medicine did Sister
Baptista a great deal of good."
"I should think it very likely," said Mrs. Chloe, with some eagerness.
"It sounds like a good recipe. Sister Deborah, don't you think the
remedy Lucy Corbet proposes to make for me might be worth trying?"
"I cannot see any hurt it would do," answered Mrs. Deborah; "and as we
have abundance of hips about Highbeck there would be no harm in trying.
Do you know how to use the still, Lucy Corbet?"
"Yes, Aunt Deborah; I learned to use the lembic and the hot still at
St. Jean, but not the worm. There was always talk of buying one, but
Sister Bursar never had the money to spare when the time came."
"Was she so stingy as that?" asked Mrs. Deborah.
"No, indeed, madam," I answered with some heat. "Sister Bursar never
was stingy. We gave away all the medicines and cordials we made. But
there never was more than money enough to buy what was absolutely
needful, and not always that."
"Well, well, you shall tell me all about it sometime. I am glad you
understand the still, for it is a kind of hobby of mine. Now if you
have finished your breakfast, we will have prayers, and then go into
the town. Do you like shopping?"
"Yes, Aunt Deborah, I like it very well when I do not wish to buy
anything myself," answered Amabel, to whom the question was addressed.
"I meant to buy you some watches, but I see you have them already,"
continued Mrs. Deborah. "Did my brother send them?"
Amabel told the story of our watches, and I added that Captain Corbet
left his respectful compliments for the ladies, and felt himself
greatly obliged to them for giving a home to his niece.
Mrs. Deborah expressed herself very well-pleased, and said she was glad
I had found such a friend. She read Prayers herself, requesting Amabel
to read a psalm, and then asked us if we could not sing a hymn.
Then we went out into the town and dutifully followed the two elder
ladies all the morning, watching to see Mrs. Deborah buy tea, and
coffee, and loaf sugar, spices and other foreign commodities. All,
these things were very high at that time, in consequence of the war
with France. Tea, I remember, was thirteen shillings a pound for the
best Bohea. Mrs. Deborah bought a chest of this and one of a cheaper
sort, which Mrs. Chloe told me was to give away to the sick poor.
I saw that she paid ready money for every thing, and was very
particular as to the quality of all her purchases for the house, while
she was very indifferent as to those she made for her own dress. Mrs.
Chloe bought two or three gowns for herself and Mrs. Philippa, showing
a great deal of solicitude about the latter. She certainly tried her
sister's patience to a considerable extent by her balancings between
black lutestring and black paduasoy, chamois gloves and silk gloves,
and I thought we should never get through.
At last, in desperation, I ventured to suggest that, as Mrs. Thorpe had
the best stock in town, we should go to her, knowing that she had the
knack of making her customers know their own minds. † So we got Mrs.
Chloe comfortably set down at her counter with Amabel to attend on her,
and Mrs. Deborah and I went to finish her marketing, meaning to take
her up again.
† Or rather, I think, her own mind. She always made her customers
buy what she pleased.—A. CAREY.
I was pretty well supplied with money—thanks to the liberal way in
which Uncle Andrew filled my purse—and I asked my aunt's permission to
buy some tea and sugar for Hannah Tubbs, and some sugar-candy for the
children at the schools. This led to an inquiry as to the school, and a
proposal to visit it. Aunt Deborah was much edified by the intelligent
way in which the elder girls read in the Bible, and she pleased herself
and me by giving a guinea toward the expenses of the school.
When we got back to Mrs. Thorpe's, we found Mrs. Chloe comfortably
established in an arm-chair, discussing Mr. Thomson's poetry with Mr.
Cheriton. Mrs. Thorpe had prepared a collation for us, which Mrs.
Deborah was too kind-hearted to mortify her by refusing. Amabel and I
were silent as in duty bound, but Mr. Cheriton was very sociable and
pleasant with the elder ladies, sent a package of working materials to
his mother and sister by Mrs. Deborah with his duty, and a pound of
choice tobacco and snuff to the old rector.
"Do you not take snuff yourself, Mr. Cheriton?" asked Mrs. Deborah.
"No, madam. I was formerly a snuff-taker, but I have left it off of
late, finding, as I think, better use for the money. But Mr. Bowring
is an old man and an old friend, and I am glad to do him a little
pleasure."
"And I am pleased that I can help you to do so!" said Mrs. Deborah.
"But how is this Mr. Cheriton? I heard you had turned Methodist and
preached against all the pleasures of life."
Mr. Cheriton smiled: "Perhaps if you looked into the matter, madam, you
would find that the Methodists are not altogether so black as they are
painted."
"But I hope you do not mean to leave the church of England, or lead
others away from it!" said Mrs. Chloe, in a tone of some alarm. "I do
not think your father and mother would ever forgive you."
"So far from that, Mrs. Chloe, that I have been more complained of for
bringing folks to church than for keeping them away. But I hope to have
the pleasure of calling upon you before long, and then we will talk the
matter over."
We returned to the inn in the afternoon, and found Mrs. Philippa
dressed and lying on the sofa, hugely indignant at having been left
alone so long, although she had absolutely driven Mrs. Chloe away in
the morning. She found fault with all the purchases which had been made
for her, presumed that the tea which had been bought chiefly for her
benefit, was unfit for the pigs, and that the new harpsichord (which I
forgot to mention in its place), was a cheat.
"But Mr. Lilburne selected it, Sister Philippa, and he is considered an
excellent judge," said Mrs. Chloe, as Mrs. Deborah paid no attention to
these amiable remarks. "He plays the organ in Mr. Cheriton's church,
who recommended him to us, and has been our niece's instructor."
"Oh, if Mr. Cheriton recommended him, it is all right, no doubt!" said
Mrs. Philippa, with an ill-natured laugh. "But you are throwing away
all your arts in that quarter, Sister Chloe. It won't do at all. I
thought the smallpox might drive that folly out of you."
"Philippa!" said Mrs. Deborah sternly—the first time I had heard her
address her sister directly: "If you have no regard for Chloe, you
might have some respect for these young girls."
Whereupon Mrs. Philippa called aloud for Tupper, and being assisted to
her room, proceeded to go into a screaming and kicking fit of hysterics.
"You should not speak so, Sister Deborah! You know it is poor
Philippa's way, and I don't mind," said Mrs. Chloe, looking, however,
as though she did mind very much, and beginning to cough.
"You are right, Chloe, and I am wrong!" said Mrs. Deborah. "There, now
I have made you cough!"
I noticed, however, that neither of the ladies were at all disturbed at
Mrs. Philippa's fits, which gradually subsided as they were not noticed.
That night we stayed at the inn to be ready for the early start we were
to make the next morning. Mrs. Tupper came to rouse us at daylight,
with cakes and cups of chocolate; but we were already up and dressed,
and had put up all our affairs.
The coach, a great roomy lumbering affair drawn by four horses, came
to the door, and we all packed ourselves into it. A tight pack it was,
but we were all disposed to be good-natured. Mrs. Philippa traveled
by herself in her own chaise with Tupper and Richard—a very fortunate
arrangement for us. Our heavy luggage and Mrs. Deborah's purchases were
to follow in the wagon.
All young folks like a journey, and Amabel was in good spirits,
well-pleased at the prospect of seeing a little more of the world, and
by no means ill-pleased that Mr. Cheriton should accompany us, for our
first stage. I cannot say that I felt quite as happy—but I did my best
to be agreeable, and gradually succeeded in cheering myself.
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