Part 19 (2/2)

”I'll leave her in your hands then; you shall get her a husband.”

”That mayn't be so easy. I don't think she'd marry anybody.”

”Well, I hope not. But she seems to me to be exactly cut out for an old maid;--to be aunt Lucy for ever and ever to your bairns.”

”And so she shall, with all my heart. But I don't think she will, very long. I have no doubt she will be hard to please; but if I were a man I should fall in love with her at once. Did you ever observe her teeth, Mark?”

”I don't think I ever did.”

”You wouldn't know whether any one had a tooth in their head, I believe.”

”No one except you, my dear; and I know all yours by heart.”

”You are a goose.”

”And a very sleepy one; so, if you please, I'll go to roost.” And thus there was nothing more said about Lucy's beauty on that occasion.

For the first two days Mrs. Robarts did not make much of her sister-in-law. Lucy, indeed, was not demonstrative; and she was, moreover, one of those few persons--for they are very few--who are contented to go on with their existence without making themselves the centre of any special outward circle. To the ordinary run of minds it is impossible not to do this. A man's own dinner is to himself so important that he cannot bring himself to believe that it is a matter utterly indifferent to every one else. A lady's collection of baby-clothes, in early years, and of house linen and curtain-fringes in later life, is so very interesting to her own eyes, that she cannot believe but what other people will rejoice to behold it. I would not, however, be held as regarding this tendency as evil. It leads to conversation of some sort among people, and perhaps to a kind of sympathy. Mrs. Jones will look at Mrs. White's linen-chest, hoping that Mrs. White may be induced to look at hers. One can only pour out of a jug that which is in it. For the most of us, if we do not talk of ourselves, or at any rate of the individual circles of which we are the centres, we can talk of nothing. I cannot hold with those who wish to put down the insignificant chatter of the world.

As for myself, I am always happy to look at Mrs. Jones's linen, and never omit an opportunity of giving her the details of my own dinners.

But Lucy Robarts had not this gift. She had come there as a stranger into her sister-in-law's house, and at first seemed as though she would be contented in simply having her corner in the drawing-room and her place at the parlour-table. She did not seem to need the comforts of condolence and open-hearted talking. I do not mean to say that she was moody, that she did not answer when she was spoken to, or that she took no notice of the children; but she did not at once throw herself and all her hopes and sorrows into f.a.n.n.y's heart, as f.a.n.n.y would have had her do.

Mrs. Robarts herself was what we call demonstrative. When she was angry with Lady Lufton she showed it. And as since that time her love and admiration for Lady Lufton had increased, she showed that also.

When she was in any way displeased with her husband, she could not hide it, even though she tried to do so, and fancied herself successful;--no more than she could hide her warm, constant, overflowing woman's love. She could not walk through a room hanging on her husband's arm without seeming to proclaim to every one there that she thought him the best man in it. She was demonstrative, and therefore she was the more disappointed in that Lucy did not rush at once with all her cares into her open heart.

”She is so quiet,” f.a.n.n.y said to her husband.

”That's her nature,” said Mark. ”She always was quiet as a child.

While we were smas.h.i.+ng everything, she would never crack a teacup.”

”I wish she would break something now,” said f.a.n.n.y, ”and then perhaps we should get to talk about it.” But she did not on this account give over loving her sister-in-law. She probably valued her the more, unconsciously, for not having those apt.i.tudes with which she herself was endowed.

And then after two days Lady Lufton called; of course it may be supposed that f.a.n.n.y had said a good deal to her new inmate about Lady Lufton. A neighbour of that kind in the country exercises so large an influence upon the whole tenor of one's life, that to abstain from such talk is out of the question. Mrs. Robarts had been brought up almost under the dowager's wing, and of course she regarded her as being worthy of much talking. Do not let persons on this account suppose that Mrs. Robarts was a tuft-hunter, or a toad-eater. If they do not see the difference they have yet got to study the earliest principles of human nature.

Lady Lufton called, and Lucy was struck dumb. f.a.n.n.y was particularly anxious that her ladys.h.i.+p's first impression should be favourable, and to effect this, she especially endeavoured to throw the two together during that visit. But in this she was unwise. Lady Lufton, however, had woman-craft enough not to be led into any egregious error by Lucy's silence.

”And what day will you come and dine with us?” said Lady Lufton, turning expressly to her old friend f.a.n.n.y.

”Oh, do you name the day. We never have many engagements, you know.”

”Will Thursday do, Miss Robarts? You will meet n.o.body you know, only my son; so you need not regard it as going out. f.a.n.n.y here will tell you that stepping over to Framley Court is no more going out, than when you go from one room to another in the parsonage. Is it, f.a.n.n.y?”

f.a.n.n.y laughed and said that that stepping over to Framley Court certainly was done so often that perhaps they did not think so much about it as they ought to do.

”We consider ourselves a sort of happy family here, Miss Robarts, and are delighted to have the opportunity of including you in the menage.”

Lucy gave her ladys.h.i.+p one of her sweetest smiles, but what she said at that moment was inaudible. It was plain, however, that she could not bring herself even to go as far as Framley Court for her dinner just at present. ”It was very kind of Lady Lufton,” she said to f.a.n.n.y; ”but it was so very soon, and--and--and if they would only go without her, she would be so happy.” But as the object was to go with her--expressly to take her there--the dinner was adjourned for a short time--_sine die_.

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