Brother William went very regularly to the Scarletts, and took Fanny's
magazines, handing them to her always with an air of disgust, which
resulted in their being snatched angrily away. Then he would sit down,
and in due time partake of tea, dwelling over it, as it were, in a very
bovine manner--the resemblance being the stronger whenever there was
watercress or lettuce upon the table. In fact, there was something
remarkably ruminative in Brother William's slow, deliberate,
contemplative way; while, to carry on the simile, there was a something
almost in keeping in the manners of Martha Betts--a something that while
you looked at the well-nurtured, smooth, pleasant, quiet woman, set the
observer thinking of Lady Scarlett's gentle Jersey cows, that came up,
dewy lipped and sweet breathed, to blink and have their necks patted and
ears pulled by those they knew.
Injustice to Martha Betts, it must be said that she never allowed her
neck to be patted nor her ears pulled by Brother William; and what was
more, that stout yeoman farmer would never for a moment have thought of
presuming to behave so to the lady of his choice; for that she was the
lady of his choice he one day showed. It was a pleasant afternoon, and
Brother William had been greatly enjoying a delicious full-hearted
lettuce that John Monnick had brought in expressly for the servants'
tea. Perhaps it was the lettuce which inspired the proposal that was
made during the temporary absence of Fanny from the tea-table.
"Pretty girl, Fanny; ain't she, Martha?"
"Very; but I would not tell her so. She knows it quite enough."
"She do," said Brother William; "and it's a pity; but I'm used to it.
She always was like that, from quite a little un; and it frets me a bit
when I get thinking about her taking up with any one. You don't know of
any one, do you?"
"Not that she's taken with," said Martha, in the quietest way. "There's
the ironmonger's young man, and Colonel Sturt's Scotch gardener; but
Fanny won't notice them."
"No," said Brother William, biting a great half-moon out of a slice of
bread-and-butter, and then looking at it regretfully, as much as to say:
"See what havoc I have made."--"No, she wouldn't. I don't expect she'll
have any one at all."
"Oh, there's no knowing," said Martha, refilling the visitor's cup.
"No; there's no knowing," assented Brother William; and there was
silence for a few minutes.
"You've never been over to see my farm, Martha Betts," said Brother
William, then.
"No; I have never been," assented Martha in her quiet way.
"I should like you to come over alone, and see it," said Brother
William; "but I know you wouldn't."
"_No_; I would not," said Martha.--"Was your last cup sweet enough?"
"Just right," said Brother William thoughtfully.--"But you would come
along with Fanny, and have tea, and look round at the beasts and the
crops?"
"Yes," said Martha, in the most matter-of-fact manner, as if the
proposal had not the least interest for her. "But Fanny would not care
to come."
"I'll make her," said Brother William quietly; and he went on ruminating
and gazing sleepily at the presiding genius of the tea-table. Then
Fanny came back, took a magazine from her pocket, and went on reading
and partaking of her tea at the same time, till Brother William said
suddenly: "Fanny, I've asked Martha Betts and you to come over to tea o'
Friday, at the farm. Be in good time. I'll walk back with you both."
Fanny looked up sharply, and was about to decline the honour, when a
thought that made her foolish little heart beat, and a quiet but firm
look from her brother's eye, altered her intention, and she, to Martha's
surprise, said calmly: "Oh, very well. We will be over by four--if we
can get leave."
There was no difficulty about getting leave, for Fanny took the first
opportunity of asking her mistress, and that first opportunity was one
day when Lady Scarlett was busy in the study with Arthur Prayle.
Lady Scarlett looked up as the girl paused and hesitated, after taking
in a letter; and Arthur Prayle also looked up and gazed calmly at the
changing colour in the handsome face.
"What is it, Fanny?" said Lady Scarlett.
"I was going to ask, ma'am, if I might go with Martha--on Friday--to my
brother's farm--to tea. My brother would bring us back by ten; or if
you liked, ma'am, I could come back alone much sooner, if you wanted
me."
"Oh, certainly, Fanny. You can go. I like you to have a change
sometimes."
"And shall I come back, ma'am--about nine?" said the girl eagerly.
"O no; certainly not," replied Lady Scarlett. "Come back with Martha,
under your brother's charge. I don't think you ought to come back
alone."
Lady Scarlett inadvertently turned her face in the direction of Prayle,
as she spoke, and found his eyes fixed upon her gravely, as he rested
his elbows on the table and kept his finger-tips together.
"Certainly not," he said softly. "You are quite right, I think;" and he
bowed his head in a quiet serious manner, as if giving the matter his
entire approval.
Fanny said, "Thank you, ma'am;" and it might have been supposed that
this extension of time would have afforded her gratification; but an
analyst of the human countenance would have said that there was
something almost spiteful in the look which she bestowed upon Arthur
Prayle, as she was about to leave the room.
In due time the visit was paid, Fanny and Martha bestowing no little
attention on their outward appearance; and upon crossing the bridge and
taking the meadow-path, they were some little distance from the farm,
when Brother William encountered them, with a very shiny face, as if
polished for the occasion, and a rose in the button-hole of his
velveteen coat.
"How are you, Martha Betts?" he said, with a very bountiful smile; and
he shook hands almost too heartily to be pleasant, even to one whose
fingers were pretty well hardened with work.--"How are you, Fanny,
lass?" he continued; and he was about to bestow upon the graceful
well-dressed little body a fraternal hug and a kiss, but she repelled
him.
"No; don't, William. There that will do. I'm very glad to see you; but
I wish you wouldn't be such a bear."
"Bear, eh?" said Brother William, with a disappointed look. "Why, I was
only going to kiss you, lass. All right," he said, smiling again. "But
she mustn't think of having a sweetheart, Martha Betts, or he'll be
wanting to hug her too."
Brother William's face was a study as he let off this, to his way of
thinking, very facetious remark. His bountiful smile expanded into an
extremely broad grin, and he looked to Martha Betts for approval, but
only to encounter so stern and grave a look, that his smile grew stiff,
then hard, then faded away into an expression of pain, which in turn
gave way to one that was stolid solemnity frozen hard.
"It's a nice day, ain't it?" he said at last, to break the unpleasant
silence that had fallen upon the little group, as they walked on between
hedges bright with wild-roses, and over which the briony twined its long
strands and spread its arrowy leaves. There was the scent of the sweet
meadow-plant as it raised its creamy blossoms from every moist ditch;
and borne on the breeze came the low sweet music of the weir.
But somehow these various scents, sights, and sounds had grown common to
the little party, or else their thoughts were on other matters, for
Fanny the pretty seemed to be looking eagerly across the meadow towards
the river and down every lane, as if expecting to see some one on the
way towards them. From time to time she hung back, to pick and make
little bouquets of wild-flowers, but only to throw them pettishly away,
as she found that her brother and fellow-servant kept coming to a full
stop till she rejoined them, when they went on once more.
As for Brother William and Martha, they diligently avoided looking at
one another, while their conversation was confined to a few words, and
those were mostly from Brother William, who said on each of these
occasions: "Hadn't we best wait for Fanny?"