Part 20 (2/2)

”What do you mean by being ruined? Who's done it?”

”You've done it, sir!”

Amelius started. His relations with Phoebe had been purely and entirely of the pecuniary sort. She was a showy, pretty girl, with a smart little figure--but with some undeniably bad lines, which only observant physiognomists remarked, about her eyebrows and her mouth. Amelius was not a physiognomist; but he was in love with Regina, which at his age implied faithful love. It is only men over forty who can court the mistress, with reserves of admiration to spare for the maid.

”Sit down,” said Amelius; ”and tell me in two words what you mean.”

Phoebe sat down, and dried her eyes. ”I have been infamously treated, sir, by Mrs. Farnaby,” she began--and stopped, overpowered by the bare remembrance of her wrongs. She was angry enough, at that moment, to be off her guard. The vindictive nature that was in the girl found its way outward, and showed itself in her face. Amelius perceived the change, and began to doubt whether Phoebe was quite worthy of the place which she had hitherto held in his estimation.

”Surely there must be some mistake,” he said. ”What opportunity has Mrs.

Farnaby had of ill-treating you? You have only just got back to London.”

”I beg your pardon, sir, we got back sooner than we expected. Mrs.

Ormond had business in town: and she left Miss Regina at her own door, nearly two hours since.”

”Well?”

”Well, sir, I had hardly taken off my bonnet and shawl, when I was sent for by Mrs. Farnaby. 'Have you unpacked your box yet?' says she. I told her I hadn't had time to do so. 'You needn't trouble yourself to unpack,' says she. 'You are no longer in Miss Regina's service. There are your wages--with a month's wages besides, in place of the customary warning.' I'm only a poor girl, sir, but I up and spoke to her as plain as she spoke to me. 'I want to know,' I says, 'why I am sent away in this uncivil manner?' I couldn't possibly repeat what she said. My blood boils when I think of it,” Phoebe declared, with melodramatic vehemence.

”Somebody has found us out, sir. Somebody has told Mrs. Farnaby of your private meeting with Miss Regina in the shrubbery, and the money you kindly gave me. I believe Mrs. Ormond is at the bottom of it; you remember n.o.body knew where she was, when I thought she was in the house speaking to the cook. That's guess-work, I allow, so far. What is certain is, that I have been spoken to as if I was the lowest creature that walks the streets. Mrs. Farnaby refuses to give me a character, sir. She actually said she would call in the police, if I didn't leave the house in half an hour. How am I to get another place, without a character? I'm a ruined girl, that's what I am--and all through You!”

Threatened at this point with an ill.u.s.trative outburst of sobbing Amelius was simple enough to try the consoling influence of a sovereign.

”Why don't you speak to Miss Regina?” he asked. ”You know she will help you.”

”She has done all she can, sir. I have nothing to say against Miss Regina--she's a good creature. She came into the room, and begged, and prayed, and took all the blame on herself. Mrs. Farnaby wouldn't hear a word. 'I'm mistress here,' she says; 'you had better go back to your room.' Ah, Mr. Amelius, I can tell you Mrs. Farnaby is your enemy as well as mine! you'll never marry her niece if _she_ can stop it. Mark my words, sir, that's the secret of the vile manner in which she has used me. My conscience is clear, thank G.o.d. I've tried to serve the cause of true love--and I'm not ashamed of it. Never mind! my turn is to come.

I'm only a poor servant, sent adrift in the world without a character.

Wait a little! you see if I am not even (and better than even) with Mrs.

Farnaby, before long! _I know what I know._ I am not going to say any more than that. She shall rue the day,” cried Phoebe, relapsing into melodrama again, ”when she turned me out of the house like a thief!”

”Come! come!” said Amelius, sharply, ”you mustn't speak in that way.”

Phoebe had got her money: she could afford to be independent. She rose from her chair. The insolence which is the almost invariable accompaniment of a sense of injury among Englishwomen of her cla.s.s expressed itself in her answer to Amelius. ”I speak as I think, sir. I have some spirit in me; I am not a woman to be trodden underfoot--and so Mrs. Farnaby shall find, before she is many days older.”

”Phoebe! Phoebe! you are talking like a heathen. If Mrs. Farnaby has behaved to you with unjust severity, set her an example of moderation on your side. It's your duty as a Christian to forgive injuries.”

Phoebe burst out laughing. ”Hee-hee-hee! Thank you, sir, for a sermon as well as a sovereign. You have been most kind, indeed!” She changed suddenly from irony to anger. ”I never was called a heathen before!

Considering what I have done for you, I think you might at least have been civil. Good afternoon, sir.” She lifted her saucy little snub-nose, and walked with dignity out of the room.

For the moment, Amelius was amused. As he heard the house-door closed, he turned laughing to the window, for a last look at Phoebe in the character of an injured Christian. In an instant the smile left his lips--he drew back from the window with a start.

A man had been waiting for Phoebe, in the street. At the moment when Amelius looked out, she had just taken his arm. He glanced back at the house, as they walked away together. Amelius immediately recognised, in Phoebe's companion (and sweetheart), a vagabond Irishman, nicknamed Jervy, whose face he had last seen at Tadmor. Employed as one of the agents of the Community in transacting their business with the neighbouring town, he had been dismissed for misconduct, and had been unwisely taken back again, at the intercession of a respectable person who believed in his promises of amendment. Amelius had suspected this man of being the spy who officiously informed against Mellicent and himself, but having discovered no evidence to justify his suspicions, he had remained silent on the subject. It was now quite plain to him that Jervy's appearance in London could only be attributed to a second dismissal from the service of the Community, for some offence sufficiently serious to oblige him to take refuge in England. A more disreputable person it was hardly possible for Phoebe to have become acquainted with. In her present vindictive mood, he would be emphatically a dangerous companion and counsellor. Amelius felt this so strongly, that he determined to follow them, on the chance of finding out where Jervy lived. Unhappily, he had only arrived at this resolution after a lapse of a minute or two. He ran into the street but it was too late; not a trace of them was to be discovered. Pursuing his way to Mr.

Farnaby's house, he decided on mentioning what had happened to Regina.

Her aunt had not acted wisely in refusing to let the maid refer to her for a character. She would do well to set herself right with Phoebe, in this particular, before it was too late.

<script>