Hopes and Fears Part 71

'Don't you think you may, Peter?' asked Mrs. Prendergast, holding the hand; 'you shall find her here at luncheon. I won't do anything to her.'

The good curate groaned himself off, and Lucy felt so much restored that she had almost forgotten that it was not an ordinary call. Indeed she had never yet heard a woman's voice that thus attracted and softened her.

Mrs. Prendergast needed not to be jealous of Venus, while she had such tenderness in her manner, such winning force in her tone.

'That was well done,' she said. 'Talking would have been impossible while he sat looking on!'

'I am afraid he has given far too good an account of me,' said Lucy, in a low and trembling voice.

'His account comes from one who has known you from babyhood.'

'And spoilt me from babyhood!'

'Yes, Sarah knows what Cousin Peter can do in that line. He had little that was new to tell us, and what he had was of a kind--' She broke off, choked by tears. What she had heard of the girl's self-devotion touched her trebly at the sight of one so small, young, and soft-looking. And if she had ever been dubious of 'Peter's pet,' she was completely fascinated.

'I must not be taken on his word,' said Cilla, smiling.

'No, that would not be right by any of us.'

'Then pray be very hard with me--as a thorough stranger.'

'But I am so inexperienced, I have only had one interview with a governess.'

'And what did she do?' asked Lucilla, as both recovered from a laugh.

'She gave so voluble an account of her _ac_quirements and _re_quirements, that I was quite alarmed.'

'I'm sure I can't do that. I don't know what I can do.'

A pause, broken by Lucy, who began to feel that she had more of the cool readiness of the great world. 'How old is your daughter?'

'Nearly fifteen. While we had our small parish in Suss.e.x we taught her ourselves, and her father brought her on in Latin and Euclid. Do you know anything of those, Miss Sandbrook? not that it signifies.'

'Miss Charlecote used to teach me with my brother. I have forgotten, but I could soon get them up again.'

'They will hardly be wanted, but Sarah will respect you for them. Now, at Southminster, our time is so taken up that poor Sarah gets neglected, and it is very trying to an eager, diligent girl to prepare lessons, and have them continually put off, so we thought of indulging her with a governess, to bring her on in some of the modern languages and accomplishments that have grown rusty with us.'

'I think I could do that,' said Lucilla. 'I believe I know what other people do, and my languages are fresh from the Continent. Ought I to give you a specimen of my p.r.o.nunciation?'

'Pray don't,' laughed Mrs. Prendergast. 'You know better than I what is right, and must prepare to be horrified by the sounds you will hear.'

'I ought to have brought my sketches. I had two years of lessons from S---.'

'Sarah is burning for teaching in that line. Music? Dr. Prendergast likes the grand old pieces, and hardly cares for modern ones.'

'I hardly played anything newer than Mozart at Hiltonbury. Miss Charlecote taught me very well, I believe, and I had lessons from the organist from Elverslope, besides a good deal in the fashionable line since. I have kept that up. One wants it.'

There was another shy pause, and Lucilla growing more scrupulous and more confidential, volunteered,--'Mine has been an idle life since I came out.

I am three-and-twenty now, and have been diligently forgetting for the last six years. Did you know that I had been a fast young lady?'

But things had come to such a pa.s.s, that say what she would, all pa.s.sed for ingenuous candour and humility, and the answer was,--

'I know that you have led a very trying life, but to have pa.s.sed through such unscathed is no disadvantage.'

'If I have,' said Lucy, sadly.

Mrs. Prendergast, who had learned all the facts of Lucilla's history through the Wrapworth medium, knew only the heroic side of her character, and admired her the more for her diffidence. So when terms were spoken of, the only fear on the one side was, that such a treasure must be beyond her means; on the other, lest what she needed for her nephew's sake might deprive her of such a home. However, seventy pounds a year proved to be in the thoughts of both, and the preliminaries ended with, 'I hope you will find my little Sarah a pleasant companion. She is a good girl, and intelligent, but you must be prepared for a few angles.'

'I like angles. I don't care for commonplace people.'

'I am afraid that you will find many such at Southminster. We cannot promise you the society you have been used to.'

'I am tired of society. I have had six years of it!' and she sighed.

'You must fix your own time,' said Mrs. Prendergast; 'and indeed we will try to make you at home.'

'My brother will be gone in a fortnight,' said Lucilla. 'After that I should like to come straight to you.'

Her tone and look made those two last words not merely _chez vous_, but to _you_, individually--to you, kind one, who will comfort me after the cruel parting. Mrs. Prendergast put her arm round her and kissed her.

'Don't,' said Lucilla, with the sweetest April face. 'I can't bear being made foolish.'

Nevertheless Mrs. Prendergast showed such warm interest in all her concerns, that she felt only that she had acquired a dear friend by the time the others came in, father and daughter complaining, the one gaily, the other dolefully, that Cousin Peter had so hunted them that they could look at nothing in peace. Indeed he was in such a state of restless misery, that Mrs. Prendergast, in compa.s.sion to him, sent her daughter to dress, called her husband away, and left the place clear for him to say, in a tone of the deepest commiseration, 'Well, my poor child?'

'O, Mr. Pendy, you have found me a true home. Be the others what they may, there must be rest in hearing _her_ voice!'

'It is settled, then?'

'Yes. I only hope you have not taken them in. I did my best to let her know the worst of me, but it would make no impression. Seventy pounds a year. I hope that is not wicked.'

'O, Cilla, what would your father feel?'

'Come, we won't fight that over again. I thought I had convinced you of the dignity of labour, and I do feel as if at last I had lit on some one whom I could allow to do me good.'

She could not console him; he grieved over her changed circ.u.mstances with far more regret than she felt, and though glad for her sake that she should be with those whom he could trust, yet his connection with her employers seemed to him undutiful towards his late rector. All that she saw of them rea.s.sured her. The family manners were full of well-bred good-humour, full of fun, with high intelligence, much real refinement, and no pretension. The father was the most polished, with the scholarly courtesy of the dignified clergyman; the mother was the most simple and caressing; the daughter somewhat uncouth, readily betraying both her feelings and her cleverness and drollery in the style of the old friend whom Lucilla was amused to see treated as a youth and almost a contemporary of her pupil. What chiefly diverted her was the grotesque aspect of Dr. Prendergast and his daughter. Both were on a large scale, with immense mouths, noses turned up to display wide nostrils, great gray eyes, angularly set, yellow hair and eyebrows, red complexions, and big bones. The Doctor had the advantage of having outgrown the bloom of his ugliness; his forehead was bald and dignified, his locks softened by grizzling, and his fine expression and clerical figure would have carried off all the quaintness of his features if they had not been so comically caricatured in his daughter; yet she looked so full of life and character that Lucilla was attracted, and sure of getting on well with her.

Moreover, the little elf felt the impression she was creating in this land of Brobdignag. Sarah was looking at her as a terra-cotta pitcher might regard a cup of egg-sh.e.l.l china, and Lucy had never been lovelier.

Her mourning enhanced the purity of her white skin, and marked her slender faultless shape; her flaxen hair hung in careless wreaths of ringlet and braid; her countenance, if pale, had greater sweetness in its dejection, now and then brightened by gleams of her courageous spirit.

Sarah gazed with untiring wonder, pardoning Cousin Peter for disturbing the contemplation of Domenichino's art, since here was a witness that heroines of romance were no mere myths, but that beings of ivory and rose, sapphire eyes and golden hair, might actually walk the earth.

The Doctor was pleasant and friendly, and after luncheon the whole party started together to 'do' St. Paul's, whence Mr. Prendergast undertook to take Cilla home, but in no haste to return to the lonely house. She joined in the lionizing, and made a great impression by her familiarity with London, old and new. Little store as she had set by Honor's ecclesiology and antiquarianism, she had not failed to imbibe a tincture sufficient to go a long way by the help of ready wit, and she enchanted the Doctor by her odd bits of information on the localities, and by guiding him to out-of-the-way curiosities. She even carried the party to Woolstone-lane, displayed the Queen of Sheba, the cedar carving, the merchant's mark, and had lifted out Stow's _Survey_, where Sarah was delighted with Ranelagh, when the door opened, and Owen stood, surprised and blank. Poor fellow, the voices had filled him with hope that he should find Honor there. The visitors, startled at thus intruding on his trouble, and knowing him to be in profound disgrace, would have gone, but he, understanding them to be Mr. Prendergast's friends, and glad of variety, was eagerly courteous and hospitable, detaining them by displaying fresh curiosities, and talking with so much knowledge and brilliance, that they were too well entertained to be in haste. Lucilla, accepting Mrs. Prendergast as a friend, was rejoiced that she should have such demonstration that her brother was a thorough gentleman; and in truth Owen did and said everything so well that no one could fail to be pleased, and only as an after-thought could come the perception that his ease hardly befitted the circ.u.mstances, and that he comported himself more like the master of the house than as a _protege_ under a cloud.

No sooner had he handed them into their vehicle than he sank into a chair, and burst into one of the prolonged, vehement fits of laughter that are the reaction of early youth unwontedly depressed. Never had he seen such visages! They ought at once to be sketched--would be worth any money to Currie the architect, for gurgoyles.

'For shame,' said Lucilla, glad, however, once more to hear the merry peal; 'for shame, to laugh at my master!'

'I'm not laughing at old Pendy, his orifice is a mere crevice comparatively. The charm is in seeing it cla.s.sified--the recent sloth accounted for by the ancient megatherium.'

'The megatherium is my master. Yes, I'm governess to Glumdalc.l.i.tch!'

'You've done it?'