Volume I Part 19 (1/2)

”Why should he, dear?”

Phoebe stroked her cousin's face fondly, and rested her head on f.a.n.n.y's shoulder.

”I hope,” said f.a.n.n.y, ”that they won't be disappointed when they find out that he doesn't mean _me_, after all. But I don't think they will be when they know it is you, darling.”

”Oh, f.a.n.n.y! And he has never said one word to me!”

”What of that, sly puss? I can speak with my eyes quite as well as I can with my tongue; and Fred Cornwall is a great deal cleverer than I am. I don't positively hate him, you know.”

”It would be very wrong of you to do so.”

”And I don't positively love him. I like him, just a little, in a so-soish way. How it might have been if I didn't happen to have the dearest, sweetest, prettiest cousin that a foolish girl could ever boast of, isn't for me to say.” (More hugs and embraces here.) ”I _might_ have fallen a victim to his lords.h.i.+p's charms; I don't say I should, but I might.”

”But, f.a.n.n.y,” said Phoebe, in a low tone, her lips slightly trembling, ”it is foolish, it is wrong, to speak like this.”

”Now, Phoebe!” said f.a.n.n.y, holding up a warning forefinger.

”Well, I won't say a word.”

”That's a good, sensible, sweet-hearted cousin.”

”You are not sorry, f.a.n.n.y?”

”That he is not made for me? Well, it gives me a pang here to say no”--she placed her hand on her heart, and emitted a comically pathetic sigh--”because, you know, he _is_ the very loveliest waltzer that ever put his arm round a girl's waist. You said so yourself. Now confess, Phoebe, if Fred _did_--eh?--you wouldn't run away, would you?” Phoebe's silence was the most eloquent answer she could give to her cousin's question, which, enigmatical as it may sound in the ears of unsentimental persons, was as clear and as sweet to the young girls as the sound of wedding bells. ”If he doesn't,” added f.a.n.n.y, energetically, ”I shall call him out!”

”Would Aunt and Uncle Leth be very angry?” murmured Phoebe.

”Why, Phoebe,” replied f.a.n.n.y, reproachfully, ”they love you as much as they love me. I should feel dreadful if I wasn't sure of that. We are more than cousins, dear; we are sisters. Just put your ear to my heart: don't you hear it beat, 'Phoebe, Phoebe'? It is a good job for Fred Cornwall that I am _not_ a man. _He_ shouldn't have you, if I were; no--not if he were fifty Fred Cornwalls. I would run away with you, just as Young Lochinvar did with--I forget her name, but it doesn't matter; I'd do it. Isn't it strange that elderly people can't see half as well as young?--they don't look at what is under their noses; they are always looking over their spectacles.”

”Aunt and Uncle Leth don't wear them,” said Phoebe smiling.

”I am speaking--metaphorically. That's not my word; it's Fred's--rather a favourite with him, you know. Of course, if they asked me plainly, I should tell them; but it wouldn't do for me to start it--would it?--till things are properly settled. They will be overjoyed, Phoebe; and so shall I be; for, don't you see, my dear, when you are disposed of, there will be a chance for _me_, and if a young gentleman comes to the house there will be no mistake the next time, because I shall be the only disposable young lady in view. To that young gentleman, whoever he is, wherever he may be, I extend an invitation--I say, with a courtesy, 'Come!' Oh! but I must tell you, Phoebe, it was so funny.

You remember the last time Fred Cornwall had tea with us here--before he went on his holiday trip?”

”Yes.”

”_I_ invited him, and perhaps you may remember that I wrote to you and told you to be sure and come and spend two or three days with us. I didn't mention Fred's name in my letter to you, for you would have kept away.” It was delightful to hear f.a.n.n.y's laugh at this innocent badinage. ”Well, you came--and Fred came--and I sent Bob off to the theatre, with an order. Now what does mamma pride herself especially upon in the way of jams?”

”Her gooseberry jam.”

”Yes, and it really is very fine; I never tasted any half as good.

Well, all the while we were at tea I saw it was you Fred was feeding on.”

”f.a.n.n.y, f.a.n.n.y! You are incorrigible!”

”Am I? Nevertheless, I am right. When he wasn't looking at you, he was thinking of you; when he wasn't thinking of you, he was looking at you.

I am quite an experienced person in love matters. 'Mr. Cornwall,' said mamma, 'this is home-made gooseberry jam--my own making. What do you think of it?' 'It is a dream,' replied Fred. He was gazing at you when he pa.s.sed that very remarkable opinion upon mamma's gooseberry jam.