Part 52 (1/2)

Lucy's attention being slyly drawn to these phenomena by David's friend Talboys, she smiled politely, though somewhat constrainedly; but the gentlemen found it a source of infinite amus.e.m.e.nt during the whole ride, which, by the way, was not a very long one, for Miss Fountain soon expressed a wish to turn homeward. David felt guilty, he scarce knew why.

The promised happiness was wormwood. On dismounting, she went to the lawn to tend her flowers. David followed her, and said bitterly, ”I am sorry I came to spoil your pleasure.”

Miss Fountain made no answer.

”I thought I might have one ride with you, when others have so many.”

”Why, of course, Mr. Dodd. If you like to expose yourself to ridicule, it is no affair of mine.” The lady's manner was a happy mixture of frigidity and crossness. David stood benumbed, and Lucy, having emptied her flower-pot, glided indoors without taking any farther notice of him.

David stood rooted to the spot. Then he gave a heavy sigh, and went and leaned against one of the pillars of the portico, and everything seemed to swim before his eyes.

Presently he heard a female voice inquire, ”Is Miss Lucy at home?” He looked, and there was a tall, strapping woman in conference with Henry. She had on a large bonnet with flaunting ribbons, and a bushy cap infuriated by red flowers. Henry's eye fell upon these embellishments: ”Not at home,” chanted he, sonorously.

”Eh, dear,” said the woman sadly, ”I have come a long way to see her.”

”Not at home, ma'am,” repeated Henry, like a vocal machine.

”My name is Wilson, young man,” said she, persuasively, and the Amazon's voice was mellow and womanly, spite of her coal-scuttle full of field poppies. ”I am her nurse, and I have not seen her this five years come Martinmas;” and the Amazon gave a gentle sigh of disappointment.

”Not at home, ma'am!” rang the inexorable Plush.

But David's good heart took the woman's part. ”She is at home, now,”

said he, coming forward. ”I saw her go into the house scarce a minute ago.”

”Oh, thank you, sir,” said Mrs. Wilson. But Mr. Plush's face was instantly puckered all over with signals, which David not comprehending, he said, ”Can I say a word with you, sir?” and, drawing him on one side, objected, in an injured and piteous tone. ”We are not at home to such gallimaufry as that; it is as much as my place is worth to denounce that there bonnet to our ladies.”

”Bonnet be d--d,” roared David, aloud. ”It is her old nurse. Come, heave ahead;” and he pointed up the stairs.

”Anything to oblige you, captain,” said Henry, and sauntered into the drawing-room; ”Mrs. Wilson, ma'am, for Miss Fountain.”

”Very well; my niece will be here directly.”

Lucy had just gone to her own room for some working materials.

”You had better come to an anchor on this seat, Mrs. Wilson,” said David.

”Thank ye kindly, young gentleman,” said Mrs. Wilson; and she settled her stately figure on the seat. ”I have walked a many miles to-day, along of our horse being lame, and I am a little tired. You are one of the family, I do suppose?”

”No, I am only a visitor.”

”Ain't ye now? Well, thank ye kindly, all the same. I have seen a worse face than yours, I can tell you,” added she; for in the midst of it all she had found time to read countenances _more mulierurn._

”And I have seen a good many hundred worse than yours, Mrs. Wilson.”

Mrs. Wilson laughed. ”Twenty years ago, if you had said so, I might have believed you, or even ten; but, bless you, I am an old woman now, and can say what I choose to the men. Forty-two next Candlemas.”

In the country they call themselves old at forty-two, because they feel young. In town they call themselves young at forty-two, because they feel old.

David found that he had fallen in with a gossip; and, being in no humor for vague chat, he left Mrs. Wilson to herself, with an a.s.surance that Miss Fountain would be down to her directly.

In leaving her he went into worse company--his own thoughts; they were inexpressibly sad and bitter. ”She hates me, then,” said he.