MRS PANSEY'S FESTIVAL
Once a year the archdeacon's widow discharged her social obligations by
throwing open the gaol in which she dwelt. Her festival, to which all
that Beorminster could boast of in the way of society was invited,
usually took the form of an out-of-door party, as Mrs Pansey found that
she could receive more people, and trouble herself less about their
entertainment, by filling her grounds than by crushing them into the
rather small reception-rooms of her house. Besides, the gardens were
really charming, and the wide-spreading green of the lawns, surrounded
by ample flower-beds, now brilliant with rainbow blossoms, looked most
picturesque when thronged with well-dressed, well-bred, well-pleased
guests. Nearly all the invitations had been accepted; firstly, because
Mrs Pansey made things unpleasant afterwards for such defiant spirits as
stayed away; secondly, for the very attractive reason that the meat and
drink provided by the hostess were of the best. Thus Mrs Pansey's
entertainments were usually the most successful of the Beorminster
season.
On this auspicious occasion the clerk of the weather had granted the
hostess an especially fine day. Sunshine filled the cloudless arch of
the blue sky; the air was warm, but tempered by a softly-blowing breeze;
and the guests, to do honour at once to Mrs Pansey and the delightful
weather, wore their most becoming and coolest costumes. Pretty girls
laughed in the sunshine; matrons gossiped beneath the rustling trees;
and the sober black coats of the clerical element subdued the too vivid
tints of the feminine frippery. The scene was animated and full of
colour and movement, so that even Mrs Pansey's grim countenance expanded
into an unusual smile when greeting fresh arrivals. At intervals a band
played lively dance music; there was croquet and lawn-tennis for the
young; iced coffee and scandal for the old. Altogether, the company,
being mostly youthful and unthinking, was enjoying itself immensely, as
the chatter and laughter, and smiling and bowing amply testified.
'Altogether, I may regard it as a distinct success,' said Mrs Pansey,
as, attired in her most Hamlet-like weeds, she received her guests under
the shade of a many-coloured Japanese umbrella. 'And the gardens really
look nice.'
'The gardens of Paradise!' observed the complimentary Cargrim, who was
smirking at the elbow of his hostess.
'Don't distort Holy Writ, if--you--please!' snapped Mrs Pansey, who
still reserved the right of being disagreeable even at her own
entertainment; 'but if you do call this the Garden of Eden, I daresay
there are plenty of serpents about.'
'And many Adams and Eves!' said Dr Graham, surveying the company with
his usual cynicism; 'but I don't see Lilith, Mrs Pansey.'
'Lilith, doctor! what an improper name!'
'And what an improper person, my dear lady. Lilith was the other wife of
Father Adam.'
'How dare you, Dr Graham! the first man a bigamist! Ridiculous! Profane!
Only one rib was taken out of Adam!'
'Lilith wasn't manufactured out of a rib, Mrs Pansey. The devil created
her to deceive Adam. At least, so the Rabbinists tell us!'
'Oh, those Jewish creatures!' said the lady, with a sniff. 'I don't
think much of their opinion. What do Jews know about the Bible?'
'As much as authors generally know about their own books, I suppose,'
said Graham, drily.
'We are becoming theological,' observed Cargrim, smoothly.
'Not to say blasphemous,' growled Mrs Pansey; 'at least, the doctor is,
like all sceptics of his infidel profession. Remember Ananias and his
lies, sir.' 'I shall rather remember Eve and her curiosity,' laughed
Graham, 'and to follow so good an example let me inquire what yonder
very pretty tent contains, Mrs Pansey?'
'That is a piece of Daisy's foolishness, doctor. It contains a gipsy,
whom she induced me to hire for some fortune-telling rubbish.'
'Oh, how sweet! how jolly!' cried a mixed chorus of young voices. 'A
real gipsy, Mrs Pansey?' and the good lady was besieged with questions.
'She is cunning and dirty enough to be genuine, my dears. Some of you
may know her. Mother Jael!'
'Aroint thee, witch!' cried Dr Graham, 'that old beldam; oh, she can
"pen dukherin" to some purpose. I have heard of her; so have the
police.'
'What language is that?' asked Miss Whichello, who came up at this
moment with a smile and a word for all; 'it sounds like swearing.'
'I'd like to see anyone swear here,' said Mrs Pansey, grimly.
'Set your mind at rest, dear lady, I was speaking Romany--the black
language--the calo jib which the gipsies brought from the East when they
came to plunder the hen-coops of Europe.'
'Do you mean to tell me that those creatures have a language of their
own?' asked Miss Whichello, disbelievingly.
'Why not? I daresay their ancestors made bricks on the plain of Shinar,
and were lucky enough to gain a language without the trouble of learning
it.'
'You allude to the Tower of Babel, sir!' said Mrs Pansey, with a scowl.
'Rather to the Tower of Fable, dear lady, since the whole story is a
myth.'
Not caring to hear this duel of words, and rather surprised to learn
that Mother Jael was present, Cargrim slipped away at the first
opportunity to ponder over the information and consider what use he
could make of it. So the old woman still followed the bishop?--had
followed him even into society, and had made herself Mrs Pansey's
professional fortune-teller so that she might still continue to vex the
eyes of her victim with the sight of her eternal red cloak. Dr Pendle
was at that very moment walking amongst the guests, with his youngest
son by his side, and appeared to be more cheerful and more like his
former self than he had been for some time. Apparently he was as yet
ignorant that Mother Jael was in his immediate vicinity; but Cargrim
determined that he should be warned of her presence as speedily as
possible, and be lured into having an interview with her so that his
scheming chaplain might see what would come of the meeting. Also Cargrim
resolved to see the old gipsy himself and renew the conversation which
she had broken off when she had thieved his gold. In one way or another
he foresaw that it would be absolutely necessary to force the woman into
making some definite statement either inculpating or exonerating the
bishop in respect of Jentham's death. Therefore, having come to this
conclusion, Cargrim strolled watchfully through the merry crowd. It was
his purpose to inform Dr Pendle that Mother Jael was telling fortunes in
the gaily-striped tent, and his determination to bring--if possible--the
prelate into contact with the old hag. From such a meeting artful Mr
Cargrim hoped to gather some useful information from the conversation
and behaviour of the pair.
Unfortunately Cargrim was impeded in the execution of this scheme from
the fact of his remarkable popularity. He could not take two steps
without being addressed by one or more of his lady admirers; and
although he saw the bishop no great distance away, he could not reach
him by reason of the detaining sirens. As gracefully as possible he
eluded their snares, but when confronted by Daisy Norsham hanging on the
arm of Dean Alder, he almost gave up hope of reaching his goal. There
was but little chance of escape from Daisy and her small talk. Moreover,
she was rather bored by the instructive conversation of the ancient
parson, and wanted to attach herself to some younger and more frivolous
man. Cupid in cap and gown and spectacles is a decidedly prosy divinity.
'Oh, dear Mr Cargrim!' cried the gushing Daisy, 'is it really you? Oh,
how very sweet of you to come to-day! And what is the very latest news
of poor, dear Mrs Pendle?'
'I believe the Nauheim baths are doing her a great deal of good, Miss
Norsham. If you will excuse--'
'Nauheim!' croaked the dean, with a dry cough, 'is unknown to me save as
a geographical expression, but the town of Baden-Baden, formally called
Aurelia Aquensis, was much frequented by the Romans on account of its
salubrious and health-giving springs. I may also instance Aachen,
vulgarly termed Aix-la-Chapelle, but known to the Latins as Aquisgranum
or--'
'How interesting!' interrupted Daisy, cutting short this Stream of
information. 'You do seem to know everything, Mr Dean. The only German
watering-place I have been to is Wiesbaden, where the doctors made me
get up at five o'clock to drink the waters. And fancy, Mr Cargrim, a
band played at the Kochbrunnen at seven in the morning. Did you ever
hear anything so horrid?'
'Music at so early an hour would be trying, Miss Norsham!'
'Aqua Mattiacae was the Roman appellation of Wiesbaden,' murmured Dr
Alder, twiddling his eye-glass. 'I hear on good medical authority that
the waters are most beneficial to renovate health and arrest decay. I
should advise his lordship, the bishop, to visit the springs, for of
late I have noticed that he appears to be sadly out of sorts.'
'He is looking much better to-day,' observed the chaplain, with a glance
at the bishop, who was now conversing with Miss Whichello.
'Oh, the poor, dear bishop should have his fortune told by Mother Jael.'
'That would hardly be in keeping with his exalted position, Miss
Norsham.'
'Oh, really, I don't see that it is so very dreadful,' cried Daisy, with
one of her silvery peals of artificial laughter, 'and it's only fun.
Mother Jael might tell him if he was going to be ill or not, you know,
and he could take medicine if he was. Besides, she does tell the truth;
oh, really, it's too awful what she knew about me. But I'm glad to say
she prophesied a lovely future.'
'Marriage and money, I presume.'
'Well, you are clever, Mr Cargrim; that is just the fortune she told me.
How did you guess? I'm to meet my future husband here; he is to be rich
and adore me, and I'm to be very, very happy.' 'I am sure so charming a
young lady deserves to be,' said Cargrim, bowing.
'Siderum regina bicornis audi, Luna puellas,' quoted Mr Dean, with a
side glance at the radiant Daisy; and if that confident lady had
understood Latin, she would have judged from this satirical quotation
that Dr Alder was not so subjugated by her charms as to contemplate
matrimony. But being ignorant, she was--in accordance with the
proverb--blissful, and babbled on with a never-failing stream of small
talk, which was at times momentarily obstructed by the heavy masses of
information cast into it by the dean.
Leaving this would-be May and wary old December to their unequal
flirtation, Cargrim again attempted to reach the bishop, but was
captured by Miss Tancred, much to his disgust. She entertained him with
a long and minute account of her rheumatic pains and the means by which
she hoped to cure them. Held thus as firmly as the wedding guest was by
the Ancient Mariner, Cargrim lost the chance of hearing a very
interesting conversation between Miss Whichello and the bishop; but,
from the clouded brow of Dr Pendle, he saw that something was wrong, and
chafed at his enforced detention. Nevertheless, Miss Tancred kept him
beside her until she exhausted her trickle of small talk. It took all
Cargrim's tact and politeness and Christianity to endure patiently her
gabble.
'Yes, bishop,' Miss Whichello was saying, with some annoyance, 'your son
has admired my niece for some considerable time. Lately they became
engaged, but I refused to give my consent until your sanction and
approval had been obtained.'
'George has said nothing to me on the subject,' replied Dr Pendle, in a
vexed tone. 'Yet he should certainly have done so before speaking to
your niece.'
'No doubt! but unfortunately young men's heads do not always guide their
hearts. Still, Captain Pendle promised me to tell you all during his
present visit to Beorminster. And, of course, both Mrs Pendle and your
daughter Lucy know of his love for Mab.'
'It would appear that I am the sole person ignorant of the engagement,
Miss Whichello.'
'It was not with my consent that you were kept in ignorance, bishop. But
I really do not see why you should discourage the match. You can see for
yourself that they make a handsome pair.'
Dr Pendle cast an angry look towards the end of the lawn, where George
and Mab were talking earnestly together.
'I don't deny their physical suitability,' he said severely, 'but more
than good looks are needed to make a happy marriage.'
'Am I to understand that you disapprove of my niece?' cried the little
old lady, drawing herself up.
'By no means; by no means; how can you think me so wanting in courtesy?
But I must confess that I desire my son to make a good match.'
'You should rather wish him to get a good wife,' retorted Miss
Whichello, who was becoming annoyed. 'But if it is fortune you desire, I
can set your mind at rest on that point. Mab will inherit my money when
I die; and should she marry Captain Pendle during my lifetime, I shall
allow the young couple a thousand a year.'
'A thousand a year, Miss Whichello!'
'Yes! and more if necessary. Let me tell you, bishop, I am much better
off than people think.'
The bishop, rather nonplussed, looked down at his neat boots and very
becoming gaiters. 'I am not so worldly-minded as you infer, Miss
Whichello,' said he, mildly; 'and did George desire to marry a poor
girl, I have enough money of my own to humour his whim. But if his heart
is set on making Miss Arden his wife, I should like--if you will pardon
my candour--to know more about the young lady.'
'Mab is the best and most charming girl in the world,' said the little
Jennie Wren, pale, and a trifle nervous.
'I can see that for myself. You misunderstand me, Miss Whichello, so I
must speak more explicitly. Who is Miss Arden?'
'She is my niece,' replied Miss Whichello, with trembling dignity. 'The
only child of my poor sister, who died when Mab was an infant in arms.'
'Quite so!' assented the bishop, with a nod. 'I have always understood
such to be the case. But--er--Mr Arden?'
'Mr Arden!' faltered the old lady, turning her face from the company,
that its pallor and anxiety might not be seen.
'Her father! is he alive?'
'No!' cried Miss Whichello, shaking her head. 'He died long, long ago.'
'Who was he?'
'A--a--a gentleman!--a gentleman of independent fortune.'
Dr Pendle bit his nether lip and looked embarrassed. 'Miss Whichello,'
he said at length, in a hesitating tone, 'your niece is a charming young
lady, and, so far as she herself is concerned, is quite fit to become
the wife of my son George.'
'I should think so indeed!' cried the little lady, with buckram
civility.
'But,' continued the bishop, with emphasis, 'I have heard rumours about
her parentage which do not satisfy me. Whether these are true or not is
best known to yourself, Miss Whichello; but before consenting to the
engagement you speak of, I should like to be fully informed on the
point.'
'To what rumours does your lordship refer?' asked Miss Whichello, very
pale-faced, but very quiet.
'This is neither the time nor place to inform you,' said the bishop,
hastily; 'I see Mr Cargrim advancing. On another occasion, Miss
Whichello, we shall talk about the matter.'
As the chaplain, with three or four young ladies, including Miss
Norsham, was bearing down on the bishop, Miss Whichello recognised the
justice of his speech, and not feeling equal to talk frivolity, she
hastily retreated and ran into the house to fight down her emotion. What
the poor little woman felt was known only to herself; but she foresaw
that the course of true love, so far as it concerned George and Mab, was
not likely to run smooth. Still, she put a brave face on it and hoped
for the best.
In the meantime, Bishop Pendle was enveloped in a whirl of petticoats,
as Cargrim's Amazonian escort, prompted by the chaplain, was insisting
that he should have his fortune told by Mother Jael. The bishop looked
perturbed on hearing that his red-cloaked phantom was so close at hand,
but he managed to keep his countenance, and laughingly refused to comply
with the demand of the ladies.
'Think of what the newspapers would say,' he urged, 'if a bishop were to
consult this Witch of Endor.'
'Oh, but really, it is only a joke!'
'A dignitary of the Church shouldn't joke, Miss Norsham.'
'Why not, your lordship?' put in Cargrim, amiably. 'I have heard that
Richelieu played with a kitten.'
'I am not Richelieu,' replied Dr Pendle, drily, 'nor is Mother Jael a
kitten.'
'It's for a charity, bishop,' said Daisy, imploringly. 'I pay Mother
Jael for the day, and give the rest to Mrs Pansey's Home for servants
out of work.'
'Oh, for a charity,' repeated Dr Pendle, smiling; 'that puts quite a
different complexion on the question. What do you say, Mr Cargrim?'
'I don't think that your lordship can refuse the prayer of these
charming young ladies,' replied the chaplain, obsequiously.
Now, the bishop really wished to see Mother Jael in order to learn why
she haunted him so persistently; and as she had always vanished
heretofore, he thought that the present would be a very good time to
catch her. He therefore humoured the joke of fortune-telling for his own
satisfaction, and explained as much to the expectant company.
'Well, well, young ladies,' said he, good-naturedly, 'I suppose I must
consent to be victimised if only to further the charitable purposes of
Mrs Pansey. Where dwells the sybil?'
'In this tent! This way, your lordship!'
Dr Pendle advanced towards the gaily-striped tent, smiling broadly, and
with a playful shake of the head at the laughing nymphs around, he
invaded the privacy of Mother Jael. With a sigh of relief at having
accomplished his purpose, Cargrim let fall the flap which he had held up
for the bishop's entry, and turned away, rubbing his hands. His aim was
attained. It now remained to be seen what would come of the meeting
between bishop and gipsy.