_Chapter XI_
"You have never told us who your unknown was," said Mr Cavendish. "Isuppose she is professional. Carlingford could not possibly possess twosuch voices in private life."
"Oh, I don't know about two such voices," said Miss Marjoribanks; "hervoice suits mine, you know. It is always a great thing to find twovoices that suit. I never would choose to have professional singers, formy part. You have to give yourself up to music when you do such a thing;and that is not my idea of society. I am very fond of music," saidLucilla--"excessively fond of it; but then everybody is not of myopinion--and one has to take so many things into consideration. Forpeople who give one party in the year it does very well--but then I hateparties: the only pleasure in society is when one's friends come to seeone without any ado."
"In white frocks, _high_," said Mrs Woodburn, who could not helpassuming Lucilla's manner for the moment, even while addressing herself;but as the possibility of such a _lese-majeste_ did not even occur toMiss Marjoribanks, she accepted the observation in good faith.
"Yes; I hate a grand toilette when it is only a meeting of friends," shesaid--"for the girls, you know; of course you married ladies can alwaysdo what you like. You have your husbands to please," said Lucilla. Andthis was a little hard upon her satirist, for, to tell the truth, thatwas a particular of domestic duty to which Mrs Woodburn did not muchdevote herself, according to the opinion of Grange Lane.
"But about the contralto," said Mr Cavendish, who had come to call onMiss Marjoribanks under his sister's wing, and desired above all thingsto keep the peace between the two ladies, as indeed is a man's dutyunder such circumstances. "You are always statesmanlike in your views;but I cannot understand why you let poor little Molly Brown carry on herchirping when you had such an astonishing force in reserve. She musthave been covered with confusion, the poor little soul."
"Nothing of the sort," said Mrs Woodburn, pursuing her favouriteoccupation as usual. "She only said, 'Goodness me! how high Lucillagoes! Do you like that dreadfully high music?' and made littleeyebrows." To be sure, the mimic made Miss Brown's eyebrows, and spokein her voice, so that even Lucilla found it a little difficult to keepher gravity. But then Miss Marjoribanks was defended by her mission, andshe felt in her heart that, representing public interest as she did, itwas her duty to avoid all complicity in any attack upon an individual;and consequently, to a certain extent, it was her duty also to put MrsWoodburn down.
"Molly Brown has a very nice little voice," said Lucilla, with mostdisheartening gravity. "I like to hear her sing, for my part--the onlything is that she wants cultivation a little. It doesn't matter much youknow, whether or not you have a voice to begin with. It is cultivationthat is the thing," said Miss Marjoribanks deliberately. "I hope you_really_ thought it was a pleasant evening. Of course everybody said soto me; but then one can never put any faith in that. I have said itmyself ever so many times when I am sure I did not mean it. For myself,I don't give any importance to the first evening. Anybody can do a thingonce, you know; the second and the third, and so on--that is the realtest. But I hope you thought it pleasant so far as it went."
"It was a great deal more than pleasant," said Mr Cavendish; "and as foryour conception of social politics, it is masterly," the future M.P.added, in a tone which struck Lucilla as very significant; not that shecared particularly about Mr Cavendish's meaning, but still, when a youngman who intends to go into Parliament congratulates a young lady uponher statesmanlike views, and her conception of politics, it must beconfessed that it looks a little particular; and then, if that was whathe meant, it was no doubt Lucilla's duty to make up her mind.
"Oh, you know, I went through a course of political economy at MountPleasant," she said, with a laugh. "One of the Miss Blounts wasdreadfully strong-minded. I wonder, for my part, that she did not makeme literary; but fortunately I escaped that."
"Heaven be praised!" said Mr Cavendish. "I think you ought to be PrimeMinister. That contralto of yours is charming raw material; but if Iwere you I would put her through an elementary course. She knows how tosing, but she does not know how to move; and as for talking, she seemsto expect to be insulted. If you make a pretty-behaved young lady out ofthat, you will beat Adam Smith."
"Oh, I don't know much about Adam Smith," said Miss Marjoribanks. "Ithink Miss Martha thought him rather old-fashioned. As for poor Barbara,she is only a little shy, but that will soon wear off. I don't see whatneed she has to talk--or to move either, for that matter. I thought shedid very well indeed for a girl who never goes into society. Was it notclever of me to find her out the very first day I was in Carlingford? Ithas always been so difficult to find a voice that went perfectly withmine."
"For my part, I think it was a great deal more than clever," said MrCavendish; for Mrs Woodburn, finding herself unappreciated, was silentand making notes. "It was a stroke of genius. So her name is Barbara? Iwonder if it would be indiscreet to ask where Mademoiselle Barbara comesfrom, or if she belongs to anybody, or lives anywhere. My own impressionis that you mean to keep her shut up in a box all the week through, andproduce her only on the Thursday evenings. I have a weakness for a finecontralto. If she had been existing in an ordinary habitation like otherpeople in Carlingford, I should have heard her, or heard of her. It isclear to me that you keep her shut up in a box."
"Exactly," said Lucilla. "I don't mean to tell you anything about her.You may be sure, now I have found her out, I mean to keep her formyself. Her box is quite a pretty one, like what Gulliver had somewhere.It is just time for lunch, and you are both going to stay, I hope; andthere is poor Mary Chiley and her husband coming through the garden.What a pity it is he is such a goose!"
"Yes; but you know she never would take her uncle's advice, my dear,"said the incorrigible mimic, putting on Mrs Chiley's face; "and being anorphan, what could anybody do? And then she does not get on with _his_family. By the way," Mrs Woodburn said, falling into her naturaltone--"I wonder if anybody ever does get on with her husband's family?"The question was one which was a little grave to herself at the moment;and this was the reason why she returned to her identity--for there wasno telling how long the Woodburns, who had come for Christmas, meant tostay. "I shall be quite interested to watch _you_, Lucilla, when itcomes to be your turn, and see how you manage," she went on, with a keenlook at Miss Marjoribanks; and Mr Cavendish laughed. He too looked ather, and Lucilla felt herself in rather a delicate position: not thatshe was agitated, as might have been the case had the future M.P. forCarlingford "engaged her affections," as she herself would have said.Fortunately these young affections were quite free as yet; butnevertheless Miss Marjoribanks felt that the question was a serious one,as coming from the sister of a gentleman who was undeniably paying herattention. She did not in the least wish to alarm a leading member of afamily into which it was possible she might enter; and then at the sametime she intended to reserve fully all her individual rights.
"I always make it a point never to shock anybody's prejudices," saidMiss Marjoribanks. "I should do just the same with _them_ as with otherpeople; all you have to do is to show from the first that you mean to begood friends with everybody. But then I am so lucky: I can _always_ geton with people," said Lucilla, rising to greet the two unfortunates whohad come to Colonel Chiley's to spend a merry Christmas, and who did notknow what to do with themselves. And then they all went downstairs andlunched together very pleasantly. As for Mr Cavendish, he was "quitedevoted," as poor Mary Chiley said, with a touch of envy. To be sure,her trousseau was still in its full glory; but yet life under theconditions of marriage was not nearly such fun as it had been when shewas a young lady, and had some one paying attention to her: and sherather grudged Lucilla that climax of existence, notwithstanding her ownsuperior standing and dignity as a married lady. And Mrs Woodburn tooawoke from her study of the stupid young husband to remark upon herbrother's behaviour: she had not seen the two together so often as MrsChiley had done, and consequently this was the first time that thethought had occur
red to her. She too had been born "one of theCavendishes," as it was common to say in Carlingford, with a certainimposing yet vague grandeur--and she was a little shocked, like any goodsister, at the first idea. She watched Lucilla's movements and lookswith a quite different kind of attention after this idea struck her, andmade a rapid private calculation as to who Dr Marjoribanks's connectionswere, and what he would be likely to give his daughter; so that it isevident that Lucilla did not deceive herself, but that Mr Cavendish'sattentions must have been marked indeed.
This was the little cloud which arose, as we have said, no bigger than aman's hand, over Miss Marjoribanks's prosperous way. When the luncheonwas over and they had all gone, Lucilla took a few minutes to think itover before she went out. It was not that she was unduly flattered by MrCavendish's attentions, as might have happened to an inexperienced youngwoman; for Lucilla, with her attractions and genius, had not reached themature age of nineteen without receiving the natural homage of mankindon several clearly-defined occasions. But then the present case hadvarious features peculiar to itself, which prevented Lucilla fromcrushing it in the bud, as she had meant to do with her cousin'sill-fated passion. She had to consider, in the first place, her missionin Carlingford, which was more important than anything else; but thoughMiss Marjoribanks had vowed herself to the reorganisation of society inher native town, she had not by any means vowed that it was absolutelyas Miss Marjoribanks that she was to accomplish that renovation. Andthen there was something in the very idea of being M.P. for Carlingfordwhich moved the mind of Lucilla. It was a perfectly ideal position for awoman of her views, and seemed to offer the very field that wasnecessary for her ambition. This was the reason, of all others, whichmade her less careful to prevent Mr Cavendish from "saying the words"than she had been with Tom. To be sure, it would be a trial to leave thedrawing-room after it had just been furnished so entirely to herliking--not to say to her complexion; but still it was a sacrifice whichmight be made. It was in this way that Miss Marjoribanks preparedherself for the possible modifications which circumstances might impose.She did not make any rash resolution to resist a change which, on thewhole, might possibly be "for the best," but prepared herself to takeeverything into consideration, and possibly to draw from it a superiorgood: in short, she looked upon the matter as a superior mind, trainedin sound principles of political economy, might be expected to look uponthe possible vicissitudes of fortune, with an enlightened regard to theuses of all things, and to the comparative values on either side.
Barbara Lake, as it happened, was out walking at the very moment whenMiss Marjoribanks sat down to consider this question. She had gone tothe School of Design to meet Rose, with an amiability very unusual inher. Rose had made such progress, after leaving Mount Pleasant, underher father's care, and by the help of that fine feeling for art whichhas been mentioned in the earlier part of this history, that the chargeof the female pupils in the School of Design had been confided to her,with a tiny little salary, which served Mr Lake as an excuse for keepinghis favourite little daughter with him. Nothing could be supposed moreunlike Barbara than her younger sister, who just came up to hershoulder, and was twice as serviceable and active and "nice," accordingto the testimony of all the children. Barbara had led her father a hardlife, poor man! the time that Rose was at Mount Pleasant; but now thathis assistant had come back again, the poor drawing-master had recoveredall his old spirits. She was just coming out of the School of Design,with her portfolio under her arm, when Barbara met her. There were notmany pupils, it is true, but still there were enough to worry poor Rose,who was not an imposing personage, and who was daily wounded by thediscovery that after all there are but a limited number of persons inthis world, especially in the poorer classes of the community, and underthe age of sixteen, who have a feeling for art. It was utterlyinconceivable to the young teacher how her girls could be so clever asto find out each a different way of putting the sublime features of theBelveder Apollo out of drawing, and she was still revolving thisdifficult problem when her sister joined her. Barbara, for her part, wasoccupied with thoughts of a hero much more interesting than he ofOlympus. She was flushed and eager, and looking very handsome under hershabby bonnet; and her anxiety to have a _confidante_ was so great thatshe made a dart at Rose, and grasped her by the arm under which she wascarrying her portfolio, to the great discomposure of the young artist.She asked, with a little anxiety, "What is the matter? is there anythingwrong at home?" and made a rapid movement to get to the other side.
"Oh, Rose," said Barbara, panting with haste and agitation, "only fancy;I have just seen him. I met him right in front of Masters's, and he tookoff his hat to me. I feel in such a way--I can scarcely speak."
"Met--who?" said Rose--for she was imperfect in her grammar, like mostpeople in a moment of emergency; and, besides, she shared to some extentMiss Marjoribanks's reluctance to shock the prejudices of society, andwas disturbed by the idea that somebody might pass and see Barbara inher present state of excitement, and perhaps attribute it to its truecause.
"Oh, you stupid little thing!" said Barbara, giving her "a shake" by herdisengaged arm. "I tell you, _him_!--the gentleman I met at LucillaMarjoribanks's. He looked as if he was quite delighted to see me again;and I am sure he turned round to see where I was going. He couldn'tspeak to me, you know, the first time; though indeed I shouldn't be theleast surprised if he had followed--at a distance, you know, only to seewhere I live," said Barbara, turning round and searching into thedistance with her eager eyes. But there was nobody to be seen in thestreet, except some of Rose's pupils lingering along in the sunshine,and very probably exchanging similar confidences. Barbara turned backagain with a touch of disappointment. "I am quite sure he will find outbefore long; and don't forget I said so," she added, with a little nodof her head.
"I don't see what it matters if he found out directly," said Rose. "Papawould not let anybody come to our house that he did not approve of; andthen, you know, he will never have anything to say to people who arepatronising. I don't want to hear any more about your fine gentleman. Ifyou were worried as I am, you would think much more of getting home thanof anybody bowing to you in the street. One of the gentlemen fromMarlborough House once took off his hat to me," said Rose, with acertain solemnity. "Of course I was pleased; but then I knew it was mydesign he was thinking of--my Honiton flounce, you know. I suppose thisother one must have thought you had a pretty voice."
This time, however, it was an angry shake that Barbara gave to hersister. "I wish you would not be such a goose," she said; "who caresabout your Honiton flounce? He took off his hat because--because headmired me, I suppose--and then it was a great deal more than justtaking off his hat. He gave me such a look! Papa has no sense, though Isuppose you will blaze up when I say so. He ought to think of us alittle. As for patronising, I should soon change that, I can tell you.But then papa thinks of nothing but paying his bills and keeping out ofdebt, as he says--as if everybody was not in debt; and how do yousuppose we are ever to get settled in life? It would be far moresensible to spend a little more, and go into society a little, and do usjustice. Only think all that that old Doctor is doing for Lucilla; andthere are four of us when the little ones grow up," said Barbara, in atone of injury. "I should like to know what papa is thinking of? Ifmamma had not died when she did----"
"It was not poor mamma's fault," said Rose. "I dare say she would havelived if she could for all our sakes. But then you have always taken afalse view of our position, Barbara. We are a family of _artists_," saidthe little mistress of the School of Design. She had pretty eyes, verydewy and clear, and they woke up under the excitement of this proudclaim. "When papa is appreciated as he deserves, and when Willie has_made a name_" said Rose, with modest confidence, "things will bedifferent. But the true strength of our position is that we are a familyof artists. We are everybody's equal, and we are nobody's equal. We havea rank of our own. If you would only remember this, you would not grudgeanything to Lucilla Marjoribanks; and then I am sure
she has been verykind to you."
"Oh, bother!" said the unfeeling Barbara. "You do nothing but encouragepapa with your nonsense. And I should like to know what right LucillaMarjoribanks has to be kind to me? If I am not as good as she, it is avery strange thing. I should never take the trouble to think about _him_if it was not that Lucilla believes he is paying her attention--that isthe great fun. It would be delicious to take him from her, and make gameof her and her kindness. Goodness! there he is again. I felt sure thathe would try to find out the house."
And Barbara crimsoned higher than ever, and held Rose fast by the arm,and called her attention by the most visible and indeed tangible signsto the elegant apparition, like any other underbred young woman. As forRose, she was a little gentlewoman born, and had a horror unspeakable ofher sister's bad manners. When Mr Cavendish made a movement as if toaddress Barbara, it was the pretty gray eyes of Rose lifted to his facewith a look of straightforward surprise and inquiry which made himretire so hastily. He took off his hat again more respectfully thanbefore, and pursued his walk along Grove Street, as if he had noulterior intention in visiting that humble part of the town. As forBarbara, she held Rose faster than ever, and almost pinched her arm tomake her listen. "I knew he was trying to find out the house," she said,in an exultant whisper. "And Lucilla thinks he is paying herattention!" For the fact was, that when Miss Marjoribanks took to beingkind to Barbara, she conferred upon the contralto at the same moment apalpable injury and grievance, which was what the drawing-master'sdaughter had been looking for, for several years of her life. Andnaturally Lucilla, who was at this moment thinking it all over under thesoft green shadows from her new hangings, was deprived of the lightwhich might have been thrown on her reflections, had she seen what wasgoing on in Grove Street. The conditions of humanity are such that evena woman of genius cannot altogether overstep them. And Lucilla stillcontinued to think that Mr Cavendish was paying her attention, which,indeed, was also the general opinion in Grange Lane.