At the first shock of hearing of the accident, Mrs Ramsden's motherly
anxiety swamped all other feeling. She forgot to disapprove of a woman
who at sixty still wore a pad on her uncapped head, and lacy frills on
her petticoat, in gratitude to the hostess who had extended hospitality
to her ewe lamb. For the moment also, Geoffrey himself ceased to be a
dangerous roue, and became a gallant rescuer, miraculously appearing on
the scene of danger. She cried, and wanted to know how Elma looked;
what Elma said; how Elma felt; what Elma had had to eat; if Elma's
sheets had been aired; if Elma cried--poor darling! at being left
behind? And Cornelia answered fully on all these points, not always, it
is to be feared, with a strict regard to veracity, but with a
praiseworthy desire to soothe, which was blessed with wonderful success.
Mrs Ramsden dried her eyes, and opined that life was full of
blessings, and that she ought to be thankful that things were no worse!
There was a sweet young girl whom she had once known, who had both legs
amputated, and died of gangrene, a month before she was to have been
married. It was caused by a carriage accident, too, and now she came to
think of it, the poor dear had just the same pink-and-white complexion
as Elma herself.
"Well, I guess there's not much stump about Elma, this journey!"
returned Cornelia, cheerily. "There's nothing to it but a little shock
to the constitootion. Elma's constitootion is nervy. What she needs is
re-pose. Perfect re-pose! If I were you, I'd send up a note to-morrow,
and stay quietly at home. It would naturally upset her some to see you,
and she'd recuperate quicker by herself."
But at this Mrs Ramsden drew herself up with a chilly dignity. She
must certainly see her child. It was her duty to see for herself how
matters progressed. In the matter of removal, she must be guided by
what she saw. ...
"Yes, 'um!" assented Cornelia, meekly.
She had said her say, and felt confident that Geoffrey Greville might
now be trusted to play his part. As she walked along the few yards
which separated The Holt from The Nook, she congratulated herself that
the worst half of her explanations were over; but in this reckoning she
was mistaken. Miss Briskett's displeasure was unsoftened by anxiety,
and was, moreover, accentuated by the remembrance that all this trouble
would have been averted if Cornelia had consented to accept Mrs Nevins'
invitation to tea in a reasonable and respectful manner. The girl had
refused to make herself amiable, had insisted upon driving a strange
horse over strange roads, in the face of expressed disapproval, and had
contrived to come to grief outside the very house of all others which
she was most desired to avoid! Cornelia was flighty enough already; the
only chance of keeping her in order was by introducing her to friends
who, by their quiet decorum, would exercise a restraining effect on her
demeanour. Symptoms of dissatisfaction had already set in--witness that
same rejected tea--and this afternoon's experience had established a
certain amount of intimacy, which would entail endless difficulties in
the future.
Poor Miss Briskett, she was indeed sorely tried! With her own eyes she
had beheld Cornelia driven up to the gate by a man who was even more
dangerous than the young Squire himself, inasmuch as he was often a
visitor in the Park for weeks at a time; his aunt being the proud
possessor of The Towers, the largest and most imposing of the crescent
houses. On the afternoon on which Cornelia's coming had first been
discussed, she herself had remarked to Mrs Ramsden that the girl must
be protected from an acquaintance with Captain Guest! It seemed almost
too exasperating to be borne that she should have effected an
introduction for herself within three short weeks of her arrival!
The spinster's sharp nose looked sharper than ever, her thin lips
thinner, her grey eyes more cold and colourless. Cornelia looked from
them to the steel trimmings on her dress--really and truly, one looked
about as human as the other! The "lonesome" feeling gripped once more,
and her thoughts flew longingly to "Poppar," away at the other side of
two thousand miles of ocean.
"I feel kinder _left_!" was the expressive mental comment as the maid
swept away the crumbs, placed the two fruit dishes and the decanter of
port before her mistress, and noiselessly retired from the room. Miss
Briskett had been clearing her throat in ominous fashion for the last
ten minutes, and now that Mary's restraining presence was removed, she
wasted no further time in preliminaries. "I think it is time that we
came to an understanding, Cornelia," she began, in ice-cold accents.
"If you remain under my roof you must give me your word to indulge in no
more escapades like that of this afternoon! I gave my consent with much
reluctance; or, perhaps, it would be more correct to say that I was not
asked for my consent at all; and now you see what the consequences have
been!"
"I promise faithfully, Aunt Soph, that I'll never have a smash again, if
I can help it! I'm not a bit more set on them than you are yourself,
and I guess the mare was as innocent as a babe, so far's you're
concerned. She wasn't deliberately setting out to annoy you, as you
seem to imagine. I guess she needs more sympathy than blame!"
"Don't fence with words, Cornelia, please. I was not referring to the
horse, and I have no intention of allowing you to run any more risks. I
distinctly forbid you to take more carriage expeditions without a
competent driver. I am responsible for your safety, and your father
would blame me, if any harm happened to you while you are my guest. I
acted against my judgment in allowing you to go alone to-day, but I
shall not do so again. Do you clearly understand?"
Cornelia's golden eyes stared at her thoughtfully. An inherent sense of
justice made her conscious that her aunt had right on her side, though
she might have worded her decree in more conciliatory fashion. The
reference to her father also had a softening effect. Poppar'd go crazy
if he heard that his daughter had been in any sort of danger! ...
"Well--" she said slowly. "It's a `got-to,' I suppose! It would be
playing it pretty low down, to land you with the worry of nursing me,
and keeping Poppar quiet at the other end of the world. But you
wouldn't expect me to drive about with one of those fool-creatures from
the livery stable taking care of me, as if I were a kiddy? No, sir! I
don't see myself coming down to _that_ level yet awhile! We'd best get
up some driving parties, with those men at the Manor. They seem to have
lots of horses and carts and things hanging round, and I don't see as
they could employ themselves better than in giving Elma and me a good
time. I'll air the subject when I go up to inquire!"
Miss Briskett fairly leapt on her seat with horror and indignation. She
began to speak, and spoke rapidly for the next three minutes, laying
down a series of commandments to which Cornelia listened with bated
breath.
Thou shalt not hold any communication with the Manor, nor with the
people inhabiting the Manor; nor with the guest sojourning beneath the
roof of the Manor. Thou shalt not associate with any men outside the
circle of thy aunt's acquaintances. Thou shalt walk abroad by thine
aunt's side, on thine own legs, and comport thyself discreetly, as
behoves a young gentlewoman of good family. Thou shalt remember that
thou art a self-invited guest, and conform to the rules of the
establishment, or else shalt promptly return to the place from whence
thou camest. ...
In a word, Miss Briskett lost her temper, and when a woman of mature
years and grey hairs loses control of herself, and lets her tongue run
amuck, it is a sorry spectacle. The flush on Cornelia's cheeks was not
for her own humiliation, but for her aunt's. She lowered her lids,
ashamed to look into the angry, twisted face.
"Yes, I understand," she replied quietly, in answer to the final
question. "I guess I understand quite a lot."
"And you mean to obey?"