Volume Ii Part 18 (1/2)
”'Gone'!” exclaimed Phoebe. ”'They will never come back'!”
”If they do,” said Mrs. Pamflett, hovering officiously about Phoebe, ”it will be worse for them. They have been found out at last. You have had a narrow escape. While you were lying in a fainting condition on the ground your father unmasked them, and compelled them to confess that all their pretended kindness to you was done to wring money out of him, only because they thought he was rich. He _is_ rich, my pet, and can make a lady of you; and so can Jeremiah, who is dying of love for you, and who is the cleverest man and the finest gentleman in England. We shall all be as happy as the day is long, and you will bring comfort to your father, who is suffering a martyrdom, and who has the first claim on your heart. Yes, my pet, you have had a narrow escape--a narrow escape!
I shall give thanks for it before I go to bed to-night.”
Phoebe fixed her clear, honest eyes upon the white face of Mrs.
Pamflett, who made an impotent attempt to return the gaze with equal frankness.
”I remember everything now,” said Phoebe, in a tone of forced calmness. ”My father turned my dear friends out of the house!”
”He did turn them away. But to call them your dear friends after what they said! Phoebe, Phoebe, you are too simple and confiding. You should be angry; you should cast them off, as your father has done.”
”'After what they said'! What did they say? I heard not a word which they should not have spoken.”
”That was their artfulness and wickedness. They have been playing upon you all through. It was while you were unconscious and could not hear what was spoken that your false aunt, Mrs. Lethbridge--”
”Stop!” cried Phoebe; ”I will not hear her called so. If you wish to tell me anything that pa.s.sed after I fainted you can do so, but I will not listen to you if you speak against those I love.”
”You will not love them long,” said Mrs. Pamflett, composedly, ”if you have a daughter's feelings. Your aunt confessed to your father that the reason she had welcomed you at her house was because she looked for a proper return in money from him. Why, my pet--”
”Mrs. Pamflett!” cried Phoebe, interrupting her again.
”Yes, pet?”
”You have never used that term of endearment to me before,” said Phoebe, resolutely, ”and I should prefer you would not do so now.”
”You would prefer!” exclaimed Mrs. Pamflett, softly, but the artificial crust of tenderness was beginning to be broken by her true deceitful nature. ”But then you are only a child. You may not quite know what is good for you. And so, pet, your aunt confessed the whole plot. Would you be surprised to hear that she has kept an account of everything she has done for you, of every meal you have eaten, of every night you slept at her house, and that she is going to send it in to your father?”
”I should be very much surprised,” said Phoebe.
”You will find it true. Oh, the artfulness, the deceitfulness of women!
Men are almost as bad--at least some of them are. There are exceptions; Jeremiah is one--the soul of truth and honour--and as for cleverness, there's no saying how clever he is. Said your father to that scheming lawyer, Mr. Cornwall, who has been playing upon your feelings, and who is employed by your aunt to ruin us all--said your father to him, while you were lying on the ground: 'There is my daughter. You have come to ask my consent to her marriage with you. You are free to take her; but, knowing what you are, I will not give you one penny of my money with her!' 'What!' cried the lawyer; 'not one penny?' 'Not one penny,' said your father. 'If you love her, as you say you do, for herself alone, there she is; but neither now nor at any time, before or after my death, shall one penny of my hard-earned money go into your pocket.' 'In that case,' said the fine lawyer, 'I will have nothing to do with her.' Then your father burst into a pa.s.sion, and I am certain that if he had been a younger man he would have struck Mr. Cornwall to the earth. Jeremiah started forward to do it, but your father laid hold of him, and told him not to soil his fingers by touching such a reptile. It was as much as he could do to prevent my Jeremiah from thras.h.i.+ng the villain who wanted to get you in his toils. Then your father ordered your aunt and her lawyer friend out of the house, and warned them never to show their faces here again.”
”You forget,” said Phoebe, ”my father did that in my hearing.”
”And he repeated it afterward. They were glad enough to get away, my pet, and I hope that they will never annoy you again.”
”Suppose, Mrs. Pamflett,” said Phoebe, ”that I were to write to my aunt all you have told me?”
”You are quite welcome to do so, pet. Of course she will deny it, and will invent another story to try and set herself right in your eyes. It is just on the cards, though, that she may brazen it out and admit the truth. It is a dreadful thing when one is exposed as she has been.”
”Yes, it is hard to be found out,” said Phoebe. ”Mrs. Pamflett, I should like to be alone for a little while.”
”Very well, pet. I will go; but you have only to call, and I will come immediately. I am more than your friend--I am your faithful servant. I will guard you like a mother. From this day no harm shall come to you.”
She turned to go, and standing by the door, said, ”Your father wishes to see you, pet.”
”I will go to him presently,” said Phoebe.
Outside the door Mrs. Pamflett's face underwent a change, and showed itself in its true colours. Her thought was, ”Is she trying to hoodwink me that she did not fly into a pa.s.sion? What has come over her? Let her be careful--let her be careful! I can make life a torture for her.”