The Widow Barnaby Volume I Part 20

"You don't choose to spoil sport, I suppose; ... but don't be such a fool, and pretend to be wiser than your betters. Come here, I say; you shall take one peep, I am determined."

And as this determination was enforced by a tolerably strong pull, Agnes yielded, and found herself, greatly against her inclination, standing at the open window, with her head obligingly thrust out of it by her resolute aunt.

The lamps were by this time lighted, and at that moment a remarkably tall, gentleman-like looking personage pa.s.sed beneath one that stood almost immediately below the window, receiving its full glare upon his features. Beside him was a lady, and a young one, slight, tall, and elegant-looking, who more than leaned upon his arm, for her head almost reclined upon his shoulder; and, as they pa.s.sed, Agnes saw his hand raised to her face, and he seemed to be playing with her ringlets.

Agnes forcibly withdrew her head, while Mrs. Barnaby threw herself half out of the window for a minute, then drew back, laughing heartily, and shut down the sash.

"That's capital!..." she cried; "they fancied themselves so very snug.

But wasn't he a fine figure of a man, Agnes? I never saw a finer fellow in my life. He's taller than Tate by half a head, I am sure. But you're right about the fire too, for the wind comes over that down uncommonly cold. I shall go to work for an hour, and then have a little bread and cheese and a pint of beer."

Mrs. Barnaby suited the action to the word, and unlocked her work-box, in which she found ready to her hand good store of work prepared for her beloved needle.

"Now, only see, Agnes, what a thing it would have been for you, if you had learned to work satin-st.i.tch!" she said, "Here am I, happy and amused, and before I go to bed I dare say I shall have done a good inch of this beautiful collar.... And only look at yourself! What earthly use are you of to anybody?... I wonder you are not ashamed to sit idle in that way, while you see me hard at work."

"May I get a book, aunt?"

"Books, books, books!... If there is one thing more completely full of idleness than another, it is reading,--just spelling along one line after another.... And what comes of it? Now, here's a leaf done already, and wait a minute and you'll see a whole bunch of grapes done in spotting. There is some sense in that: but poring over a lot of rubbishly words is an absolute sin, for it is wasting the time that Heaven gives us, and doing no good to our fellow-creatures."

"And the grapes!" thought Agnes, but she said nothing.

"Why don't you answer when I speak to you, child?... Did that stupid Mrs. Wilmot never tell you to speak when you were spoken to?... What a different creature you would have been if I had had the placing you, instead of that crooked, frumpish old maid!... But I am sadly afraid it is too late now to hope that you will ever be good for much."

"I should be very glad to try to make myself competent for the situation of a governess, aunt, as you once mentioned to me," replied Agnes.

"Oh! by the by, I want to speak to you about that. You are not to say one word on that subject here, remember, nor indeed anywhere, till at such time as I shall give you leave. It will be cruelly hard for me to have the monstrous expense of maintaining you, exactly as if you were my own child, and not have the credit of it. And, besides I don't feel quite sure that I shall send you out as a governess ... it must depend upon circ.u.mstances. Perhaps I shall get you married, and that might suit me just as well. All you have to do is to keep yourself always ready to go out at a minute's warning, if I say the word; but you need mention it to n.o.body, and particularly not to my relations here."

"Very well, aunt.... I will say nothing about it. But in order to be ready when you say the word, I think I ought to study a good deal, and I am willing to do it if you will give me leave."

"How you do plague me, child, about your learning! Push the candles this way, can't you, and snuff them, when you see me straining my poor eyes with this fine work.... And do you know, miss, I think it's very likely those books you are so mighty fond of are nothing in the world but trumpery story-books, for I don't believe you'd hanker after them so, if they were really in the teaching line. For, after all, Agnes, if I must speak the truth, I don't believe you ever did pay attention to any single thing that could be really useful in the way of governessing.

Now, music, for instance, n.o.body ever heard you say a word about that; and you ought to sing too, if you wer'n't more stupid than anything ever was, for both your father and mother sang like angels."

"I can sing a little, aunt," said Agnes.

"There, now, ... isn't it as plain as possible that you take no pleasure in it?... though everybody said your poor dear mother could have made her fortune by singing. But you care for nothing but books, books, books!... and what profit, I should like to know, will ever come of that?"

"But I do care very much indeed for music, aunt," said Agnes eagerly, "only I did not talk about it, because I thought it might not be convenient for you to have an instrument for me. But I believe I could learn to get my bread by music, if I had a pianoforte to study with."

"Grant me patience!... And you really want me to go and get you a pianoforte, which is just the most expensive thing in the world?... And that after I had so kindly opened my heart to you about my fears of not having money enough!... I do think that pa.s.ses anything I ever heard in my life!"

"Indeed, aunt, I never would have said a word about it if...."

"If?... if what, I should like to know? Heaven knows it is seldom I lose my temper about anything, but it is almost too much to hear you ask me to my face to ruin myself in that way, ... and you without a chance of ever having a penny to repay me!"

"Pray forget it, aunt!... Indeed I do not wish to be an expense to you, and will very gladly try to labour for my own living, if you will let me."

"Mighty fine, to be sure!... Much you're good for, ar'n't you?... I wish you'd get along to bed. My temper is too good to bear malice, and I shall forget all about it to-morrow, perhaps; but I can't abide to look at you to-night after such a speech as that ... there's the truth; ...

so get to bed, that's a good girl, as fast as you can.... There are some things too much even for an angel to bear!"

Agnes crept to her little bed, and soon cried herself to sleep.

CHAPTER XVIII.

CONDITIONS OF AN AGREEMENT BETWEEN MRS. PETERS AND HER DAUGHTERS.--MRS.

BARNABY BEGINS HER FASHIONABLE CAREER UNDER THE PROTECTION OF MISS ELIZABETH.--SHE REHEa.r.s.eS A BALL IN HER HEART AS SHE EXAMINES THE ROOM.--THE LIBRARY.

Mrs. Barnaby was quite right in thinking that the Peters family would be very useful acquaintance; for prodigiously as Mrs. Peters disliked her sister-in-law, she no sooner ceased to be galled by her unwelcome presence in her house, than she recovered her good-humour, and felt as much aware as any reasonable person could desire, of the claim her brother's widow really had upon her and her family. These excellent dispositions were a.s.siduously fostered by her daughters, to whose wishes she never turned a deaf ear. She found the eldest and the youngest very seriously interested in Agnes, and earnest in their desire to see more of her; while Elizabeth persevered in her belief that poor Mrs. Barnaby was one of the very best-hearted women in the world, and very much to be pitied, because n.o.body seemed to like her ... though she _did_ mean to divide her fortune so generously amongst them.

"I hope, mamma," said the eldest Miss Peters, when the ladies of the family were sitting round the drawing-room fire after dinner, "I hope that you will overcome your terror of Mrs. Barnaby and her rouge sufficiently before Tuesday night to permit her joining our party in the ball-room, for I would not forsake that sweet Agnes upon such an occasion for more than I will say."

"Why, I do feel my spirits revive, Mary, considerably, since I have felt quite certain that none of my dear sister's amiable feelings were likely to involve me in the necessity of enduring her presence in my house for evermore. You may fancy you exaggerate, perhaps, when you talk of my terrors; ... but no such thing, believe me. It was terror she inspired, and nothing short of it."

"And Agnes, mamma?... what did she inspire?" said Mary.

"Pity and admiration," replied her mother.

"Very well, then," returned the petted girl, kissing her, "we shall not quarrel this time; but I was half afraid of it. It would, in truth, have been very foolish, and very unlike you, mamma, who understand the sort of thing better than most people, I believe, if we had lost the great pleasure of being kind to Miss Willoughby, and behaved extremely ill to uncle Barnaby's widow into the bargain, solely because you don't like tall ma.s.sive ladies, with large black eyes, who wear rouge, and talk fine; ... for you must confess, if you will be quite honest and speak the truth, that Mrs. Peters is rather too well-established a person at Clifton, to fear losing caste by being seen with a Mrs. Barnaby, even had the a.s.sociation not been redeemed by the matchless elegance of her beautiful niece."

"Did any one ever hear a mamma better scolded?" said Mrs. Peters, turning to the younger girls.

"Mary is quite right, mamma," said Lucy. "Depend upon it we should have broken into open rebellion, had you persevered in threatening to cut the Barnaby connexion."

"Indeed I must say," added Elizabeth, "that I have thought you very severe upon our poor aunt, mamma. Think of her kindness!"

"Our aunt!" sighed Mrs. Peters. "Is it absolutely necessary, beloveds!

that she should be addressed in public by that tender t.i.tle?"

"Not absolutely, perhaps," replied Mary, laughing; "and I dare say Elizabeth will make a bargain with you, mamma, never to call her aunt again, provided you promise never to forget that she is our aunt, though we may not call her so."

"And what must I do, young ladies, to prove my eternal recollection of this agreeable tact?"

"You must be very civil to Agnes, and let them both join our party at tea, and at all the b.a.l.l.s, and never object to our calling upon the Barnaby, for the sake of getting at the Willoughby, and ... now don't start, and turn restive, mamma, ... you must ask them whenever we have an evening party here with young people, that might be likely to give Agnes pleasure."

"And must I embrace Mrs. Barnaby every time she comes into my presence, and every time she leaves it?"

"No, ... unless you have done something so very outrageously rude before, as to render such a penitentiary _amende_ necessary."

"Come here, Mary," said the gay mother, "and let me box your ears immediately."

The young lady placed herself very obediently on the foot-stool at Mrs.

Peters's feet, who having patted each pretty cheek, said, "Now tell me, Mary, if you can, what it is that has thus fascinated your affections, hoodwinked your judgment, perverted your taste, and extinguished your pride?"