The Maidens' Lodge Part 30

"Do you want me to say, Cousin?"

"Of course I do! Should I have asked you if I didn't?"

"I am afraid he does not love you."

Rhoda sat up on her elbow, with an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of amazement.

"If I ever heard such nonsense? What do you know about it, you poor little white-faced thing?"

"I dare say I don't know much about it," said Phoebe, calmly; "but I know that if a man really loves one woman with all his heart, he won't laugh and whisper and play with the fan of another, or else he is not worth anybody's love. And I am afraid what Mr Welles wants is just your money and not you. I beg your pardon, Cousin Rhoda."

It was time. Rhoda was in a towering pa.s.sion. What could Phoebe mean, she demanded with terrible emphasis, by telling such lies as those? Did she suppose that Rhoda was going to believe them? Did Phoebe know what the Bible said about speaking ill of your neighbour? Wasn't she completely ashamed of herself?

"And I'll tell you what, Phoebe Latrobe," concluded Rhoda, "I don't believe it, and I won't! I'm not going to believe it,--not if you go down on your knees and swear it! 'Tis all silly, wicked, abominable nonsense!--and you know it!"

"Well, if you won't believe it, there's an end," said Phoebe, quietly.

"And I think, if you please, Cousin, we had better go to sleep."

"Pugh! Sleep if you can, you false-hearted crocodile!" said Rhoda, poetically, in distant imitation of the flowers of rhetoric of her friend Molly. "I shan't sleep to-night. Not likely!"

Yet Rhoda was asleep the first.

CHAPTER NINE.

SOMETHING ALTERS EVERYTHING.

"To-night we sit together here, To-morrow night shall come--ah, where?"

_Robert Lord Lytton_.

"There! Didn't I tell you, now?" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mrs Jane Talbot.

"I am sure I don't know, Jane," responded her sister, in querulous tones. "You are always talking about something. I never can tell how you manage to keep continually talking, in the way you do. I could not bear it. I never was a talker; I haven't breath for it, with my poor chest,--such a perpetual rattle,--I don't know how you stand it, I'm sure. And to think what a beautiful singer I was once! Young Sir Samuel Dennis once said I entranced him, when he had heard my singing to Mrs Lucy's spinnet--positively entranced him! And Lord James Morehurst--"

"An unmitigated donkey!" slid in Mrs Jane.

"Jane, how you do talk! One can't get in a word for you. What was I saying, Clarissa?"

"You were speaking of Lord James Morehurst, dear Marcella. 'Tis all very well for Jane to run him down," said Mrs Vane in a languishing style, fanning herself as she spoke, "but I am sure he was the most charming black man I ever saw. He once paid me such a compliment on my fine eyes!"

"More jackanapes he!" came from Mrs Jane.

"Well, I don't believe he ever paid you such an one," said Mrs Clarissa, pettishly.

"He'd have got his ears boxed if he had," returned Mrs Jane. "The impudence of some of those fellows!"

"Poor dear Jane! she never had any taste," sighed Mrs Marcella. "I protest, Clarissa, I am quite pleased to hear this news. As much pleased, you know, as a poor suffering creature like me can be. But I think Mrs Rhoda has done extreme well. Mr Welles is of a good stock and an easy fortune, and he has the sweetest taste in dress."

"Birds of a feather!" muttered Mrs Jane. "Ay, I knew what Mark-Me-Well was after. Told you so from the first. I marked him, be sure."

"I suppose he has three thousand a year?" inquired Mrs Clarissa.

"Guineas--very like. Not brains--trust me!" said Mrs Jane.

"And an estate?" pursued Mrs Clarissa, with languid interest.

"Oh dear, yes!" chimed in the invalid; "I would have told you about it, if Jane could ever hold her tongue. Such a--"

"I've done," observed Mrs Jane, marching off.

"Oh, my dear Clarissa, you can have no conception of what I suffer!"

resumed Mrs Marcella, sinking down to a confidential tone. "I love quiet above all things, and Jane's tongue is never still. Ah! if I could go to the wedding, as I used to do! I was at all the grand weddings in the county when I was a young maid. I couldn't tell you how many times I was bridesmaid. When Sir Samuel was married--and really, after all the fine things he had said, and the way he used to ogle me through his gla.s.s, I _did_ think!--but, however, that's neither here nor there. The creature he married had plenty of money, but absolutely no complexion, and she painted--oh, how she did paint! and a turn-up nose,--the ugliest thing you ever saw. And with all that, the airs she used to give herself! It really was disgusting."

"O, my dear! I can't bear people that give themselves airs," observed Mrs Clarissa, with a toss of her head, and "grounding" her fan.

"No, nor I," echoed Mrs Marcella, quite as unconscious as her friend of the covert satire in her words. "I wonder what Mrs Rhoda will be married in. I always used to say I would be married in white and silver. And really, if my wretched health had not stood in the way, I might have been, my dear, ever so many times. I am sure it would have come to something, that evening when Lord James and I were sitting in the balcony, after I had been singing,--and there, that stupid Jane must needs come in the way! I always liked a pretty wedding. I should think it would be white and silver. And what do you suppose Madam will give her?"

"Oh, a set of pearls, I should say, if not diamonds," answered Mrs Clarissa.

"She will do something handsome, of course."

"Suppose you do something handsome, and swallow your medicine without a lozenge," suggested Mrs Jane, walking in and presenting a gla.s.s to her sister. "'Tis time."

"I am sure it can't be, Jane! You are always making me swallow some nasty stuff. And as to taking it without a lozenge, I couldn't do such a thing!"

"Stuff! You could, if you did," said Mrs Jane. "Come, then,--here it is. I shouldn't want one."

"Oh, you!--you have not my fine feelings!" responded Mrs Marcella, sitting with the gla.s.s in her hand, and looking askance at its reddish-brown contents.

"Come, sup it up, and get it over," said her sister. "O Jane!--you unfeeling creature!"

"'Twill be no better five minutes hence, I'm sure."

"You see what I suffer, Clarissa!" wailed Mrs Marcella, gulping down the medicine, and pulling a terrible face. "Jane has no feeling for me.

She never had. I am a poor despised creature whom n.o.body cares for.

Well, I suppose I must bear it. 'Tis my fate. But what I ever did to be afflicted in this way! Oh, the world's a hard place, and life's a very, very dreary thing. Oh dear, dear!"

Phoebe Latrobe, who had been sent by Madam to tell the news at the Maidens' Lodge, sat quietly listening in a corner. But when Mrs Marcella began thus to play her favourite tune, Phoebe rose and took her leave. She called on Lady Betty, who expressed her gratification in the style of measured propriety which characterised her. Lastly, with a slow and rather tired step, she entered the gate of Number One. She had left her friend Mrs Dorothy to the last.

"Just in time for a dish of tea, child!" said little Mrs Dorothy, with a beaming smile. "Sit you down, my dear, and take off your hood, and I will have the kettle boiling in another minute. Well, and how have you enjoyed your visit? You look tired, child."

"Yes, I feel tired," answered Phoebe. "I scarce know how I enjoyed the visit, Mrs Dorothy--there were things I liked, and there were things I didn't like."

"That is generally the case, my dear."

"Yes," said Phoebe, abstractedly. "Mrs Dorothy, did you know Mrs Marcella Talbot when she was young?"