AGNES APPEARS AT CLIFTON IN A NEW CHARACTER.
At as early an hour, on the morning after her arrival at Clifton, as
Agnes could hope to find her friend Mary awake, she set off for Rodney
Place. It was a short walk, but a happy one, even though she had yet to
learn whether Lady Elizabeth Norris and her party were or were not
arrived.
But there was something at the bottom of her heart that made her very
tolerably easy ... more so perhaps than she confessed to herself ... on
this point. Every day made the mysterious fact of Miss Compton's being a
woman of handsome fortune more familiar to her, and every hour made it
more clear that she had no other object in life than to make that
fortune contribute to the happiness of her niece. It followed,
therefore, that, not having altogether forgotten the fact of Colonel
Hubert's declaration at a moment when all things, but his own heart,
must have pleaded against her, some very comfortable ground for hope to
rest upon, was discoverable in the circumstances of her present
position.... "There will be no danger," thought she, "that when he
speaks again, my answer should be such as to make him fancy himself too
old for me."
The servant at Rodney Place who opened the door to Agnes, was the same
who had done her the like service some dozen of times during her last
visit at Clifton, but he betrayed no sign of recognition when she
presented herself. In fact, the general appearance of Agnes was so
greatly changed from what he had been accustomed to see it when she was
clothed in the residuum of the Widow Barnaby's weeds, that till she
smiled, and spoke her inquiry for Miss Peters, he had no recollection of
her.
As soon, however, as he discovered that it was the Miss Willoughby who
had left all his ladies crying when she went away, he took care to make
her perceive that she was not forgotten by the manner in which he said,
"Miss Peters, ma'am, is not come down stairs yet; but she will be very
happy to see YOU, ma'am, if you will please to walk up."
As the early visitor was of the same opinion, she scrupled not to find
her way to the well-known door, and without even the ceremony of a tap,
presented herself to her friend. It is probable that Mary looked more at
the face and less at the dress of the visitor than the servant had done,
for, uttering a cry of joy, she sprang towards her, and most
affectionately folded her in a cordial embrace.
"My sweet Agnes!... This is so like you! At the very instant you
entered, I was calculating the probabilities between to-day and
to-morrow for your arrival. Ah, little girl!... Did I not tell you to
address yourself to Miss Compton, of Compton Basett, long ago? What say
you to my wisdom now?"
"That you were inspired, Mary, and that I deserved to suffer a good deal
for not listening to such an oracle.... But had I done so, I should have
never known...."
"The difference between the extreme of Barnaby misery and Compton
comfort?" said Mary, finishing the sentence for her.
Agnes blushed, but said with a happy smile, "Yes ... assuredly I may say
so."
Miss Peters looked at her, and laughed. "There is something else you
would not have known, I am very sure, Agnes, by that conscious face, ...
and it must be something very well worth knowing by that look of radiant
happiness which I never saw on your fair face before ... no, not even
when for the first time you looked down upon Avon's dun stream; for
then, if I remember rightly, your joy shewed itself in tears; but
now, my dear, you are dimpling with smiles, though I really believe
you are doing all you can to hide them from me. Say why is this?...
wherefore ... what should it mean?"
"Mary!... There is not an event of my life, nor a thought of my heart,
that I would wish to hide from you.... But how can I begin telling you
such very long and incredible stories as I have got to tell, just as you
have finished dressing, and are ready to go down to breakfast?" said
Agnes.
"Breakfast?" replied her friend.... "I would rather go without breakfast
for a month than not hear the beginning, middle, and end of all your
adventures from the moment you left this house in crape and bombasin,
with your cheeks as white as marble, and your eyes full of tears, up to
this present now, that you have entered it again in as elegant a morning
toilet as London can furnish, with your cheeks full of dimples, and your
eyes dancing in your head with happiness, notwithstanding all your
efforts to look demure.... Come, sit down again, Agnes, and tell me
all."
"Tell you all I will, depend upon it, but not now, dear Mary.... Think
of all your mother's kindness to me.... Shall I sit here indulging in
confidential gossip with you, instead of paying my compliments to her
and the rest of the family in the breakfast-room?... No, positively no.
So come down stairs with me directly, or I will go by myself."
"Aunt Compton is spoiling you, child; that is quite clear.... You used
to be obedient to command, and ever ready to do as I desired, but now
you lay down the law like a Lord Chancellor. Come along, then, Miss
Agnes; but remember that, as soon as breakfast is over, I expect, first
to be taken to the Mall (have I not got nice lodgings for you?) and
introduced to Miss Compton, of Compton Basett, and then taken to our old
seat on the rock, then and there to hear all that has befallen you."
To this Agnes agreed, and they descended together. The interest and the
pleasure that her entrance excited among the family group already
assembled round the breakfast-table, was very gratifying to her. Mrs.
Peters seemed hardly less delighted than Mary; the two girls kissed her
affectionately, and gazed at her with as much admiration as
astonishment, which is tantamount to saying that they admired her much;
good Mr. Peters welcomed her very cordially, and inquired with the most
scrupulous politeness for the health of Mrs. Barnaby; and James told her
very frankly that he was delighted to see her, and that she was fifty
times handsomer than ever.
The conversation that followed was perfectly frank, on the part of
Agnes, in all that related to the kindness of her aunt Compton, and the
happiness she enjoyed from being under her care; but, from delicacy to
them, she said as little as possible about Mrs. Barnaby; and from
delicacy to herself, made no mention whatever either of Colonel Hubert
or his family.
As soon as the breakfast was over Mrs. Peters declared her intention of
immediately waiting on Miss Compton; an attention to her aunt which
Agnes welcomed with pleasure, though it still farther postponed the
much-wished for conversation with her friend Mary. The whole family
declared their eagerness to be introduced to the old lady, of whom Miss
Willoughby spoke with such enthusiasm; but as the discreet Mrs. Peters
declared that at this first visit her eldest daughter only must
accompany her; the rest yielded of necessity, and the three ladies set
out together.
"I expect to find this new aunt a much more agreeable personage, my dear
Agnes, than your former chaperon, though she was my dear sister.... But
on one point I flatter myself I shall find them alike."
"I hope this point of resemblance is not of much importance to your
happiness, my dear Mrs. Peters," replied Agnes, "for if it be, you are
in a bad way; since night and day are infinitely less unlike than my two
aunts in all things."
"Yes, but it is of great importance to my happiness, particularly for
this evening, Agnes," replied Mrs. Peters. "The point of resemblance I
want to find is in the trusting you to my care. We are going to a party
this evening where I should particularly like to take you, ... and it
will be impossible, you know, to arrange exchange of visits, and manage
that an invitation shall be sent and accepted by aunt Compton, on such
very short notice. Do you think she will let you go with us?"
"Ask her, my dear Mrs. Peters," replied Agnes with a very happy smile,
"and see what she will say to it."
"I will, if I do not find her too awful," was the answer.
The manner in which Miss Compton received and entertained her visitors,
was a fresh source of surprise to Agnes. Though thinking very highly of
her intellect, and even of her conversational powers, she had
anticipated some symptoms of reserve and shyness on the introduction of
so perfect a recluse to strangers. But nothing of the kind appeared.
Miss Compton was pleased by the appearance and manner of both mother
and daughter, and permitted them to perceive that she was so, rather
with the easy flattering sort of courtesy with which a superior treats
those whom he wishes should be pleased with him, than with any
appearance of the _mauvaise honte_ which might have been expected. Nor
must this be condemned as unnatural, for it was, in fact, the inevitable
result of the state of mind in which she had lived. With keen intellect,
elastic animal spirits, and a position that places the owner of it
fairly above the reach of annoyance from any one, (an elevation, by the
by, that few of the great ones of the earth can boast,) it is not an
introduction to any ordinary society that can discompose the mind, or
agitate the manners.
Mrs. Peters did not find aunt Compton too awful, and therefore prefered
her request, which, like every other that could have been made likely to
promote the pleasure of Agnes, was not only graciously but gratefully
complied with. A question being started as to the order in which the
party should go, Mr. Peters's carriage not being able to take them all
at once, Miss Compton settled it by saying,--"Agnes has her own
carriage and servants here, but she must not go alone; and perhaps, if
she calls at your house, Mrs. Peters, you will have the kindness to let
her friend Mary accompany her, and permit her carriage to follow yours."
This being settled, Mrs. Peters and her daughter rose to take leave; and
Mary then hoped that Agnes, by returning with them, would at length give
her the opportunity she so earnestly desired of hearing all she had to
tell. But she was again disappointed, for when the young heiress asked
her indulgent aunt whether she would not take advantage of the lovely
morning to see some of the beauties of Clifton, she replied,--"I should
like nothing so well, Agnes, as to take a drive with you over the
beautiful downs you talk of. Will you spare her to me for so long, Miss
Peters?"
"I think you deserve a little of her, Miss Compton," answered the young
lady; "and with the hope of the evening before me, I will enter no
protest against the morning drive."
The mother and daughter then took leave, and as they left the house,
they exchanged a glance that seemed to express mutual congratulation on
the altered condition of their favourite.
"Well, mamma, you will be rewarded this time for obeying my commands
like a dutiful mother, and permitting me to make a pet of this sweet
Agnes.... There is nothing in the Barnaby style here.... I was sure Miss
Compton, of Compton Basett, must be good for something," said Mary.
"If I may venture to hope, as I think I may," replied her mother, "that
she will never be the means of bringing me in contact with my
incomparable sister-in-law again, I may really thank you, saucy girl as
you are, for having so taken the reins into your own hands. I delight in
this Miss Compton. There is a racy originality about her that is very
awakening. And as for your Agnes, what with her new young happiness, her
graceful loveliness, now first seen to some advantage, her proud and
pretty fondness for her aunt, and her natural joy at seeing us all again
under circumstances so delightfully altered, I really do think she is
the most enchanting creature I ever beheld."