The Maidens' Lodge Part 41

"Yes, Madam."

"When, my dear?" asked Mrs Latrobe, in a tone of deep interest.

"This afternoon, Madam!"

"That is right! I am so pleased. I was afraid he would want a good deal of management. And you've no more notion how to manage a man than that parrot. I should have to do it all myself."

"I beg your pardon, Madam," said Phoebe, with some dignity; "I gave him an answer."

"Of course, you did, my dear. I am only afraid--sometimes, my dear Phoebe, you let your shyness get the better of you till you seem quite silly--I am afraid, I say, that you would hardly speak with becoming warmth. Still--"

"I think, Madam, I was as warm as you would have wished me," said Phoebe, drily.

"Oh, of course, there is a limit, my dear," said Mrs Latrobe, bridling.

"Well, I am so glad that it is settled. 'Tis just what I was wis.h.i.+ng for you."

"I fear, Madam, you misconceive me," said Phoebe, looking up, "and 'tis settled the other way from what you wished."

"Child, what can you mean?" asked Mrs Latrobe, with sudden sharpness.

"You never can have refused such an excellent offer? What did you say to Mr Welles?"

"I sent him away, and told him never to come near me again." Phoebe spoke with warmth enough now.

"Phoebe, you must be a lunatic!" burst from her mother. "I could not have believed you would be guilty of such supreme, unpardonable folly!"

"Sure," said Phoebe, looking up, "you would never have had me marry a man whom I despised in my heart?"

"Despised! I protest, Phoebe, you are worse and worse. What do you mean by saying you despise Mr Welles? A man of excellent manners and faultless taste, of good family, with an estate of three thousand a year, and admirable prospects when his old uncle dies, who is nearly seventy now--why, Phoebe, you must be a perfect fool! I am amazed at you beyond words."

There was a light in Phoebe's eyes which was beyond Mrs Latrobe's comprehension.

"Mother!" came from the girl's lips, with a soft intonation--"Father would not have asked me to do that!"

"Really, my dear, if you expect that I am to rule myself by your father's notions, you expect a great deal too much. He was not a man of the world at all--"

"He was not!"

"Not in the least!--and he had not the faintest idea what would be required of you when you came to your present position. Don't quote him, I beg of you!--Well, really, Phoebe--I don't know what to do now.

I wish I had known of it! Still I don't see, if he were determined to speak to you, how I could have prevented you from making such a goose of yourself. I do wish he had asked me! I should have accepted him at once for you, and not given you the chance to refuse. What did you say to him? Is it quite hopeless to try and win him back?"

"Quite," said Phoebe, shortly.

"But I want to know exactly what you said."

"I told him I believed he wanted the estate, and not me; and that after behaving to my cousin as he did, he did not need to expect to get either it or me."

"Phoebe! what preposterous folly!" said Mrs Latrobe. "Well, child, you are a fool--that's as plain as a pikestaff; but--"

"You're a fool!" came in a screech from the parrot's cage, followed by a burst of laughter.

"But 'tis no use crying over spilt milk. If we have lost Mr Welles, we have lost him; and we must try for some one else. Oh dear, how hot it is! Phoebe, I wonder when you will have any sense. I do beseech you, my dear, never to play the same game with anyone else."

"I hope, Mother," said Phoebe, gravely, "that I shall never have occasion."

"What a lot of geese!" said the parrot.

CHAPTER TWELVE.

ENDS IN THE MAIDENS' LODGE.

"Mother, Mother, up in Heaven, Stand up on the jasper sea, And be witness I have given All the gifts required of me."

_Elizabeth Barrett Browning_.

"Before these young gentlewomen come, Rhoda, I want a word with you."

"Yes, Madam."

"I am sure, my dear, that you have too much wit to object to what I am about to say."

Rhoda had learned to dread this beginning, as it was generally the prelude to something disagreeable. But she was learning, also, to submit to disagreeable things. She only said, meekly, "Yes, Madam."

"I suppose, my dear, you will have felt, like a maid of some parts and spirit as you are, that your dwelling any longer with me and Phoebe in this house would not be proper."

"Not be proper!" Rhoda's cheek blanched. She had never recognised anything of the kind. Was she not only to lose her fortune, but to be turned out of her home? When would her calamities come to an end? "Not proper, Aunt Anne!--why not?"

This was not altogether an easy question to answer with any reason but the real one, which last must not be told to Rhoda. Mrs Latrobe put on an air of injured astonishment.

"My dear!--sure, you would not have me tell you that? No, no!--your own good parts, I am certain, must have a.s.sured you. Now, Rhoda, I wish, so far as is possible, to spare you all mortification. If you consider that it would be easier to you to support your altered fortunes elsewhere, I am very willing to put myself to some trouble to obtain for you a suitable service; or if, on the other hand, you have not this sensibility, then my Lady Betty's cottage is at your disposal when she leaves it. The time that these young gentlewomen are here will be enough to think over the matter. When they go, I shall expect your answer."

Had Phoebe wished to tell out to Rhoda a recompense of distress equivalent to every annoyance which she had ever received from her, she could have wished for no revenge superior to that of this moment. For her, who had all her life, until lately, looked forward to dispensing her favours as the Queen of Cressingham, to be offered apartments in the Maidens' Lodge as an indigent gentlewoman, was in her eyes about the last insult and degradation which could be inflicted on her. She went white and red by turns; she took up the hem of her ap.r.o.n, and began to plait it in folds, with as much diligence as though it had been a matter of serious importance that there should be a given number of plaits to an inch, and all of the same width to a thread. Still she did not speak.

Mrs Latrobe required no words to inform her of what was pa.s.sing in Rhoda's mind. But she forestalled any words which might have come, by an affectation of misunderstanding her.

"You see, my dear Rhoda," she said, in a would-be affectionate tone, "I am bound to do all I can for my only sister's only child. I would not do you so much injury as to suppose you insensible to the kindness I have shown you. Indeed, if you had been something younger, and had wished to learn any trade, I would willingly have paid the premium with you. And 'tis no slight matter, I can a.s.sure you. Eighty pounds would have been the least for which I could have put you with a milliner or mantua-maker, to learn her trade. But, however, 'tis no good talking of that, for you are a good nine years too old. So there is nothing before you but service, without you marry, or to take my Lady Betty's house.

Now, my dear, you may go and divert yourself; we will not talk of this matter again till the young gentlewomen have ended their visit."

And with a nod of dismissal, Mrs Latrobe rose and pa.s.sed out of the room, evidently considering her duties exceeded by her merits, and leaving Rhoda too stunned for words.

Trade, indeed! If there could be a deeper depth than the Maidens'

Lodge, it was trade, in Rhoda's eyes. Domestic service was incomparably more respectable and honourable. As to matrimony, which her aunt had, as it were, flung into the scales as she pa.s.sed, Rhoda's heart was still too sore to think of it.

An hour later brought Betty and Molly.

"How do you, Rhoda, dear?" inquired the former, kindly.

"Well!--got over it, Red Currants?" interrogated Molly.