Hopes and Fears Part 39

But, ah me! she's a heart of stone, Which Cupid uses for a hone, I verily believe; And on it sharpens those eye-darts, With which he wounds the simple hearts He bribes her to deceive.--_A Coquette_, by X.

Breakfast was late, and lengthened out by the greater lateness of many of the guests, and the superlative tardiness of the lady of the house, who had repudiated the cares of the hostess, and left the tea-equipage to her sister-in-law. Lucilla had been down-stairs among the first, and hurried away again after a rapid meal, forbidding any one to follow her, because she had so much to do, and on entering the drawing-room, she was found with a wilderness of flowers around her, filling vases and making last arrangements.

Honora and Phoebe were glad to be occupied, and Phoebe almost hoped to escape from Rashe. Speaking to Lucilla was not possible, for Eloisa had been placed by Rashe in a low chair, with a saucer before her, which she was directed to fill with verbenas, while the other four ladies, with Owen, whom his cousin had called to their aid, were putting last touches to wreaths, and giving the final festal air to the rooms.

Presently Robert made his appearance as the bearer of Mr. Prendergast's flowers, and setting his back against a shutter, in his favourite att.i.tude, stood looking as if he wanted to help, but knew not how.

Phoebe, at least, was vividly conscious of his presence, but she was supporting a long festoon with which Owen was adorning a pier-gla.s.s, and could hardly even turn her head to watch him.

'Oh, horrid!' cried Lucilla, retreating backwards to look at Ratia's performance; 'for love or money a bit of clematis!'

'Where shall I find one?' said Robert, unseeing the ma.s.ses waving on the cloister, if, good youth, he even knew what clematis was.

'You there, Mr. Fulmort!' exclaimed Rashe; 'for goodness gracious sake, go out to tennis or something with the other men. I've ordered them all out, or there'll be no good to be got out of Cilly.'

Phoebe flashed out in his defence, 'You are letting Owen alone.'

'Ah! by the bye, that wreath of yours has taken an unconscionable time!'

said Miss Charteris, beginning to laugh; but Phoebe's grave straightforward eyes met her with such a look, as absolutely silenced her merriment into a mere mutter of 'What a little chit it is!' Honora, who was about indignantly to a.s.sume the protection of her charge, recognized in her what was fully competent to take care of herself.

'Away with both of you,' said Lucilla; 'here is Edna come for a last rehearsal, and I won't have you making her nervous. Take away that Robin, will you, Owen?'

Horatia flew gustily to greet and rea.s.sure the schoolmistress as she entered, trembling, although moving with the dignity that seemed to be her form of embarra.s.sment. Lucilla meanwhile sped to the others near the window. 'You must go,' she said, 'or I shall never screw her up; it is a sudden access of stage fright. She is as pale as death.'

Owen stepped back to judge of the paleness, and Robert contrived to say, 'Cannot you grant me a few words, Lucy?'

'The most impossible thing you could have asked,' she replied. 'There's Rashe's encouragement quite done for her now!'

She bounded back to the much-overcome Edna, while Phoebe herself, perceiving how ill-advised an opportunity Robert had chosen, stepped out with him into the cloister, saying, 'She can't help it, dear Robin; she cannot think, just now.'

'When can she?' he asked, almost with asperity.

'Think how full her hands are, how much excited she is,' pleaded Phoebe, feeling that this was no fair moment for the crisis.

'Ireland?' almost groaned Robert, but at the same moment grasped her roughly to hinder her from replying, for Owen was close upon them, and he was the person to whom Robert would have been most reluctant to display his feelings.

Catching intuitively at his meaning, Phoebe directed her attention to some clematis on the opposite side of the cloister, and called both her companions to gather it for her, glad to be with Robert and to relieve Miss Murrell of the presence of another spectator. Charles Charteris coming up, carried the two young men to inspect some of his doings out of doors, and Phoebe returned with her wreaths of creepers to find that the poor schoolmistress had become quite hysterical, and had been take away by Lucilla.

Rashe summoned her at the same time to the decoration of the music-room, and on entering, stopped in amus.e.m.e.nt, and made her a sign in silence to look into a large pier-gla.s.s, which stood so as to reflect through an open door what was pa.s.sing in the little fanciful boudoir beyond, a place fitted like a tent, and full of quaint Dresden china and toys of _bijouterie_. There was a complete picture within the gla.s.s. Lucilla, her fair face seen in profile, more soft and gentle than she often allowed it to appear, was kneeling beside the couch where half reclined the tall, handsome Edna, whose raven hair, and pale, fine features made her like a heroine, as she nervously held the hands which Lucilla had placed within her grasp. There was a low murmur of voices, one soothing, the other half sobbing, but nothing reached the outer room distinctly, till, as Phoebe was holding a long wreath, which Ratia was tying up, she heard--'Oh! but it is so different with me from you young ladies who are used to company and all. I dare say that young lady would not be timid.'

'What young lady, Edna? Not the one with the auburn hair?'

Ratia made an ecstatic face which disgusted Phoebe.

'Oh, no!--the young lady whom Mr. Sandbrook was helping. I dare say she would not mind singing--or anything,' came amid sobs.

Ratia nodded, looked excessively arch, and formed a word with her lips, which Phoebe thought was 'jealous,' but could not imagine what she could mean by it.

'I don't know why you should think poor Phoebe Fulmort so brazen. She is a mere child, taking a holiday from her strict governess.'

Phoebe laughed back an answer to Rashe's pantomime, which in this case she understood.

'She has not had half your training in boldness, with your inspectors and examinations, and all those horrid things. Why, you never thought of taking fright before, even when you have sung to people here. Why should you now?'

'It is so different, now--so many more people. Oh, so different! I shall never be able.'

'Not at all. You will quite forget all about yourself and your fears when the time comes. You don't know the exhilaration of a room full of people, all lights and music! That symphony will lift you into another world, and you will feel quite ready for "Men must work and women must weep."'

'If I can only begin--but oh! Miss Sandbrook, shall you be far away from me?'

'No, I promise you not. I will bring you down, if you will come to Ratia's room when you are dressed. The black silk and the lilac ribbon Owen and I chose for you; I must see you in it.'

'Dear Miss Sandbrook, you are so kind! What shall I do when you have left?'

'You are going yourself for the holidays, silly puss!'

'Ah! but no one else sympathizes or enters into my feelings.'

'Feelings!' said Lucilla, lightly, yet sadly. 'Don't indulge in them, Edna; they are no end of a torment.'

'Ah! but if they prey on one, one cannot help it.'

Rashe made a face of great distaste. Phoebe felt as if it were becoming too confidential to permit of listening, all the more as she heard Lucilla's reply.

'That's what comes of being tall, and stately, and dignified! There's so much less of me that I can carry off my troubles twice as well.'

'Oh, dear Miss Sandbrook, you can have no troubles!'

'Haven't I? Oh, Edna, if you knew! You that have a mother can never know what it is to be like me! I'm keeping it all at bay, lest I should break down; but I'm in the horridest bother and trouble.'

Not knowing what might come next, ashamed of having listened to so much, yet with one gleam of renewed hope, Phoebe resolutely disobeyed Ratia's frowns and gestures, and made her presence known by decided movements and words spoken aloud.

She saw the immediate effect in Edna Murrell's violent start; but Lucilla, without moving, at once began to sing, straining her thin though sweet voice, as though to surmount a certain tremulousness. Edna joined, and the melody was lovely to hear; but Phoebe was longing all the time for Robert to be at hand for this softer moment, and she hoped all the more when, the practising being over, and Edna dismissed, Lucy came springing towards her, notifying her presence by a caress--to outward appearance merely playful, but in reality a convulsive clasp of vehement affection--and Phoebe was sure that there had been tears in those eyes that seemed to do nothing but laugh.

The security that this wild elf was true at heart was, however, not enough for Phoebe. There was the knowledge that each moment's delay would drive Robert farther aloof, and that it was a mere chance whether he should encounter this creature of impulse at a propitious instant.

Nay, who could tell what was best for him after all? Even Phoebe's faithful acceptance of her on his word had undergone sundry severe shocks, and she had rising doubts whether Lucy, such as she saw her, could be what would make him happy.

If the secrets of every guest at a _fete_ were told, would any be found unmixedly happy? Would there be no one devoid of cares of their own or of other people's, or if exempt from these, undisturbed by the absence of the right individual or by the presence of the wrong one, by mishaps of deportment, difficulties of dress, or want of notice? Perhaps, after all, it may be best to have some one abiding anxiety, strong enough to destroy tedium, and exclude the pettier distresses, which are harder to contend with, though less dignified; and most wholesome of all is it that this should be an interest entirely external. So, after all, Phoebe's enjoyment might hardly have been increased had her thoughts been more free from Robin's troubles, when she came down dressed for her first party, so like a lily of the valley in her delicate dress, that Owen acknowledged that it justified her choice, and murmured something of 'in vernal green and virgin white, her festal robes, arrayed.' Phoebe was only distressed at what she thought the profanation of quoting from such a source in compliment to her. Honora was gratified to find the lines in his memory upon any terms. Poor dear Honor, in one case at least believing all things, hoping all things!

Phoebe ought to have made the most of her compliment. It was all she obtained in that line. Juliana herself could not have taken umbrage at her success. n.o.body imagined her come out, no one attempted to disturb her from under Miss Charlecote's wing, and she kept close to her the whole afternoon, sometimes sitting upon a hayc.o.c.k, sometimes walking in the shrubbery, listening to the band, or looking at the archery, in company with dignified clergyman, or elderly lady, astonished to meet Honor Charlecote in so unwonted a scene. Owen Sandbrook was never far off. He took them to eat ices, conducted them to good points of view, found seats for them, and told them who every one was, with droll comments or anecdotes which entertained them so much, that Phoebe almost wished that Robin had not made her sensible of the grain of irreverence that seasoned all Owen's most brilliant sallies.

They saw little of the others. Mr. and Mrs. Charteris walked about together, the one cordial, the other stately and gorgeous, and Miss Charlecote came in for her due and pa.s.sing share of their politeness.

Rashe once invited Phoebe to shoot, but had too many on her hands to be solicitous about one. Flirting no longer herself, Rashe's delight was in those who did flirt, and in any a.s.sembly her extreme and unscrupulous good-nature made her invaluable to all who wanted to have themselves taken off their own hands, or pushed into those of others. She ordered people about, started amus.e.m.e.nts, hunted gentlemen up, found partners, and shook up the bashful. Rashe Charteris was the life of everything.

How little was wanting to make her kind-hearted activity admirable!

Lucilla never came in their way at all. She was only seen in full and eager occupation embellishing the archery, or forcing the 'decidedly pious' to be fascinated by her gracious self-adaptation. Robert was equally inaccessible, always watching her, but keeping aloof from his sister, and only consorting at times with Mr. Prendergast.

It was seven o'clock when this act of the drama was finally over, and the parties staying in the house met round a hurried meal. Rashe lounging and yawning, laughing and quizzing, in a way amazing to Phoebe; Lucilla in the very summit of spirits, rattling and laughing away in full swing.

Thence the party dispersed to dress, but Honora had no sooner reached her room than she said, 'I must go and find Lucy. I must do my duty by her, little hope as I have. She has avoided me all day; I must seek her now.'