Volume Ii Part 20 (1/2)
”Ill?... Who told you, child, that I thought you ill?... I don't think any such thing, ... but I did not choose you should drink the waters till I had the opinion of the first medical man in the place about it.
There is no expense, no sacrifice, Agnes, that I am not ready to make for you.”
”But I don't mean to drink the waters at all, thank you, aunt,” replied Agnes.
”Don't mean, miss?... you don't mean?... And perhaps you don't mean to eat any dinner to-day? and perhaps you don't mean to sleep in my apartment to-night?... Perhaps you may prefer walking the streets all night?... Pretty language, indeed, from you to me!... And now you may take yourself off again, and, as you like to stick to your lessons, you may just go and write for a copy, 'I must do as I'm bid.'”
Agnes quitted the room in silence, and Mrs. Barnaby prepared to receive her new friend, Miss Morrison, who she doubted not would call before the hour she had named as the fas.h.i.+onable time for repairing to the public library; nor was she at all displeased by this abrupt departure, as, for obvious reasons, it was extremely inconvenient for her to have Agnes present when she felt inclined to enter upon a little autobiography. But, while antic.i.p.ating this agreeable occupation, she recalled, as she set herself to work upon one of her beautiful collars, the sc.r.a.pe she had got into respecting her park, and firmly resolved not even to mention a paddock to Miss Morrison by name, whatever other flights of fancy she might indulge in.
”This has been no idle day with me as yet,” thought she, as she proceeded with her elegant ”satin-st.i.tch”.... ”I have got well stared at, though only in my close straw-bonnet, at the pump-room,--have made a capital new acquaintance, and,”--remembering with a self-approving smile all she had said to Mr. Pringle,--”I know I have not been sowing seed on barren ground.... I have not forgotten how glad my poor dear Barnaby was to get hold of something new.... He will repeat it every word, I'll answer for him.”
CHAPTER XIII.
THE ACQUAINTANCE RIPENS INTO FRIENDs.h.i.+P.--USEFUL INFORMATION OF ALL SORTS.--AN EXCELLENT METHOD OF TALKING FRENCH, ATTENDED WITH LITTLE LABOUR AND CERTAIN SUCCESS.--A COLLECTOR.--A SALE-ROOM.--A PEER OF THE REALM.
The visit of Miss Morrison, which quickly followed, was long and confidential. Mrs. Barnaby very condescendingly explained to her all the peculiar circ.u.mstances of her position, which rendered her the most valuable friend in the world, and also the most eligible match extant for a man of rank and fortune; but all these latter particulars were communicated under the seal of secrecy, never, upon any account, to be alluded to or mentioned to any one; and in return for all this, Miss Morrison gave the widow a catalogue _raisonnee_ of the most marriageable men at present in Cheltenham, together with the best accounts of their rent-rolls and expectancies that it had been in the power of pertinacious questionings to elicit. But it would be superfluous to narrate this part of the conversation at length, as the person and affairs of many a goodly gentleman were canva.s.sed therein, who, as they never became of much importance to Mrs. Barnaby, can be of none to those occupied by the study of her character and adventures.
There were other points, however, canva.s.sed in this interview, which were productive of immediate results; and one of these was the great importance of attending the sales by auction, which, sometimes preluded by soft music, and always animated as they went on by the most elegant conversation, occupied the _beau monde_ of Cheltenham for many hours of every day.
”Your descriptions are delightful, Miss Morrison!” exclaimed the animated widow. ”I could almost fancy myself there already, ... and go I will constantly, you may depend upon that; ... and I want to consult you about another thing, Miss Morrison.... There's my niece, you know--the little girl you saw at breakfast ... do you think it would be quite the thing to make her leave her books and lessons, and all that, to waste her time at the sales?... And besides, baby as she is, she gets more staring at than I think at all good for her.”
”_Jay non doot paw_,” replied Miss Morrison, ”for she is divinely handsome, _say toon bow tay par fit_, as they say at Paris; and my belief is, that if you wish to be the fas.h.i.+on at Cheltenham, the best thing you can do is to let her be seen every day, and all day long. That face and figure must take, _say clare_.”
Mrs. Barnaby fell into a reverie that lasted some minutes. That she did wish to be the fas.h.i.+on at Cheltenham was certain, but the beauty of Agnes was not exactly the means by which she would best like to obtain her wish. She had hoped to depend solely on her own beauty and her own talents, but she was not insensible to the manifest advantage of having two strings to her bow; and as the ambition, which made her determine to be great, was quite as powerful as the vanity which made her determine to be beautiful, the scheme of making Agnes a partner in her projects of fascination and conquest was at least worthy of consideration.
”I must think about it, Miss Morrison,” she replied; ”there is no occasion to decide this minute.”
”_Poing do too_,” said Miss Morrison; ”I always like myself to walk round a thing, as I call it, before I decide to take it. Besides, my dear madam, a great deal depends upon knowing what is your princ.i.p.al object.... _Bo coo depong de sell aw...._ If you intend to be at all the parties, to be marked with a buzz every time you enter the pump-room, the ball-room, or the sales, I would say, dress up that young lady in the most elegant and attractive style possible, and you will be sure to succeed ... _paw le mowyndra doot de sell aw_.... But if, on the other hand, your purpose is to marry yourself, _set o tra shews_, and you must act altogether in a different way.”
”I understand you, my dear Miss Morrison, perfectly,” replied the widow, greatly struck by the sound sense and clear perception of her new friend; ”and I will endeavour, with the most perfect frankness, to make you understand all my plans, for I feel sure that you deserve my full confidence, and that n.o.body can be more capable of giving me good advice.... The truth is, Miss Morrison, that I do wish to marry again.
My fortune, indeed, is ample enough to afford me every luxury I can wish for; ... but a widowed heart, my dear Miss Morrison ... a widowed heart is a heavy load to bear, where the temper, like mine, is full of the softest sensibility and all the tenderest affections.... Therefore, as I said, it is my wish to marry again; but G.o.d forbid I should be weak and wicked enough to do so in any way unbecoming my station in society,--a station to which I have every right, as well from birth as fortune. No attachment, however strong, will ever induce me to forget what I owe to my family and to the world; and unless circ.u.mstances shall enable me rather to raise than debase myself in society, I will never, whatever my feelings may be, permit myself to marry at all.”
”_Crowyee moy vous avay raisong share dam!_” exclaimed Miss Morrison.
”Such being the case,” resumed the widow, ”it appears to me evident, that the first object to be attended to is the getting into good society; and if, in order to obtain this, I find it necessary to bring forward Agnes Willoughby, it must certainly be done ... especially as her singing is much more remarkable, I believe, than even the beauty of her person.”
”_Et he po-se-ble?_” said Miss Morrison, joyfully. ”Then, in that case, _share a me_, there is nothing in the whole world, of any sort or kind, that can prevent your being sought out and invited to every fas.h.i.+onable house in the place. An ugly girl, that sings well, may easily get herself asked wherever she chooses to go; but a beautiful one, _aveck ung talong samblabel_, may not only go herself, but carry with her as many of her friends as she pleases.”
”Really!...” said Mrs. Barnaby, thoughtfully. ”This is a great advantage; ... and you feel sure, Miss Morrison, that if I do make up my mind to bring her forward, this will be the case?”
”_O we_,” replied her friend confidently, ”_set ung fay certaing_ ...
there is no doubt about it; and if you will, I am ready to make you a bet of five guineas, play or pay, that if you contrive to make her be seen and heard once, you will have your table covered with visiting cards before the end of the week ... _nong douty paw_.”
”Well!... we must consider about it, Miss Morrison; ... but I should like, I think, to go first to some of these crowded places that you talk about without her, just to see ... that is, if you would be kind enough to go with me.”
”Most certainly I will,” replied Miss Morrison, ”_aveck leplu grang plesire_.... Suppose we go to the sale-rooms this morning? There is a vast variety of most useful and beautiful things to be sold to-day, and as they always go for nothing, you had better bid a little. It is thought stylish.”
”And must certainly draw attention,” said Mrs. Barnaby, with vivacity.