Part 24 (2/2)
”A month! I mean to-night.”
”To-night, Sir Thomas! 'Tis not possible. Why, she hath scantly a gown fit to show.”
”She must go, nathless, Orige. And it shall be to the parsonage. They will do it, I know. And Clare must go with her.”
”The parsonage!” said Lady Enville contemptuously. ”Oh ay, she can go there any hour. They should scantly know whether she wear satin or grogram. Call for Clare, if you so desire it--she must see to the gear.”
”Canst not thou, Orige?”
”I, Sir Thomas!--with my feeble health!”
And Lady Enville looked doubly languid as she let her head sink back among the cus.h.i.+ons. Sir Thomas looked at her for a minute, sighed again, and then, opening the door, called out two or three names.
Barbara answered, and he bade her ”Send hither Mistress Clare.”
Clare was rather startled when she presented herself at the boudoir door. Blanche, she saw, was in trouble of some kind; Lady Enville looked annoyed, after her languid fas.h.i.+on; and the grave, sad look of Sir Thomas was an expression as new to Clare as it had been to the others.
”Clare,” said her step-father, ”I am about to entrust thee with a weighty matter. Are thy shoulders strong enough to bear such burden?”
”I will do my best, Father,” answered Clare, whose eyes bespoke both sympathy and readiness for service.
”I think thou wilt, my good la.s.s. Go to, then:--choose thou, out of thine own and Blanche's gear, such matter as ye may need for a month or so. Have Barbara to aid thee. I would fain ye were hence ere supper-time, so haste all thou canst. I will go and speak with Master Tremayne, but I am well a.s.sured he shall receive you.”
A month at the parsonage! How delightful!--thought Clare. Yet something by no means delightful had evidently led to it.
”Clare!” her mother called to her as she was leaving the room,--”Clare!
have a care thou put up Blanche's blue kersey. I would not have her in rags, even yonder; and that brown woolsey shall not be well for another month. And,--Blanche, child, go thou with Clare; see thou have ruffs enow; and take thy pearl chain withal.”
Blanche was relieved by being told to accompany her sister. She had been afraid that she was about to be put in the dark closet like a naughty child, with no permission to exercise her own will about anything. And just now, the parsonage looked to her a dark closet indeed.
But Sir Thomas turned quickly on hearing this, with--”Orige, I desire Blanche to abide here. If there be aught she would have withal, she can tell Clare of it.”
And, closing the door, he left the three together.
”Oh!--very well,” said Lady Enville, rather crossly. Blanche sat down again.
”What shall I put for thee, Blanche?” asked Clare gently.
”What thou wilt,” muttered Blanche sulkily.
”I will lay out what I think shall like thee best,” was her sister's kind reply.
”I would like my green sleeves, [Note 1] and my tawny kirtle,” said Blanche in a slightly mollified tone.
”Very well,” replied Clare, and hastened away to execute her commission, calling Barbara as she went.
”What ado doth Sir Thomas make of this matter!” said Lady Enville, applying again to the pomander. ”If he would have been ruled by me-- Blanche, child, hast any other edge of pearl?” [Note 2.]
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