Part 43 (1/2)
”My plan is to look on these monstrosities as horrid dreams, and go on as if nothing had happened.”
Happy philosophy.
Lucy acquiesced with a smile, and in an instant both immortal souls plunged and disappeared in silk, satin, feathers and point lace.
The afternoon post brought letters that furnished some excitement. Mr.
Hardie announced his return, and Captain Kenealy accepted an invitation that had been sent to him two days before. But this was not all. Mrs. Bazalgette, with something between a laugh and a crow, handed Lucy a letter from Mr. Fountain, in which that diplomatic gentleman availed himself of her kind invitation, and with elephantine playfulness proposed, as he could not stay a month with her, to be permitted to bring a friend with him for a fortnight. This friend had unfortunately missed her through absence from his country-house at the period of her visit to Font Abbey, and had so constantly regretted his ill fortune that he (Fountain) had been induced to make this attempt to repair the calamity. His friend's name was Talboys; he was a gentleman of lineage, and in his numerous travels had made a collection of foreign costumes which were really worth inspecting, and, if agreeable to Mrs. Bazalgette, he should send them on before by wagon, for no carriage would hold them.
Lucy colored on reading this letter, for it repeated a falsehood that had already made her blush. The next moment, remembering how very keenly her aunt must be eying her, and reading her, she looked straight before her, and said coldly, ”Uncle Fountain ought to be welcome here for his courtesy to you at Font Abbey, but I think he takes rather a liberty in proposing a stranger to you.”
”Rather a liberty? Say a very great liberty.”
”Well, then, aunt, why not write back that any friend of his would be welcome, but that the house is full? You have only room for Uncle Fountain.”
”But that is not true, Lucy,” said Mrs. Bazalgette, with sudden dignity.
Lucy was staggered and abashed at this novel objection; recovering, she whined humbly, ”but it is very nearly true.”
It was plain Lucy did not want Mr. Talboys to visit them. This decided Mrs. Bazalgette to let his dresses and him come. He would only be a foil to Mr. Hardie, and perhaps bring him on faster. Her decision once made on the above grounds, she conveyed it in characteristic colors.
”No, my love; where I give my affection, there I give my confidence. I have your word not to encourage this gentleman's addresses, so why hurt your uncle's feelings by closing my door to his friend? It would be an ill compliment to you as well as to Mr. Fountain; he shall come.”
Her postscript to Mr. Fountain ran thus:
”Your friend would have been welcome independently of the foreign costumes; but as I am a very candid little woman, I may as well tell you that, now you _have_ excited my curiosity, he will be a great deal more welcome with them than without them.”
And here I own that I, the simpleminded, should never have known all that was signified in these words but for the comment of John Fountain, Esq.
”It is all right, Talboys,” said he. ”My bait has taken. You must pack up these gimcracks at once and send them off, or she'll smile like a marble Satan in your face, and stick you full of pins and needles.”
The next day Mr. Bazalgette walked into the room, haughtily overlooked the pyramid of dresses, and asked Lucy to come downstairs and see something. She put her work aside, and went down with him, and lo! two ponies--a cream-colored and a bay. ”Oh, you loves!” cried the virgin, pa.s.sionately, and blushed with pleasure. Her heart was very accessible--to quadrupeds.
”Now you are to choose which of these you will have.”
”Oh, Mr. Bazalgette!”
”Have you forgotten what you told me? 'Try and make me happy some other way,' says you. Now I remembered hearing you say what a nice pony you had at Font Abbey; so I sent a capable person to collect ponies for you. These have both a reputation. Which will you have?”
”Dear, good, kind Uncle Bazalgette; they are ducks!”
”Let us hope not; a duck's paces won't suit you, if you are as fond of galloping as other young ladies. Come, jump up, and see which is the best brute of the two.”
”What, without my habit?”
”Well, get your habit on, then. Let us see how quick you can be.”
Off ran Lucy, and soon returned fully equipped. She mounted the ponies in turn, and rode them each a mile or two in short distances. Finally she dismounted, and stood beaming on the steps of the hall. The groom held the ponies for final judgment.
”The bay is rather the best goer, dear,” said she, timidly.
”Miss Fountain chooses the bay, Tom.”