Volume Iii Part 8 (2/2)
”That is just what I should wish to find,” returned the spinster; ”and before you came in, I had quite made up my mind that Agnes Willoughby should be the person; but I confess, Mrs. Barnaby, that what you have said alarms me, and I shall be very much obliged if you will immediately let me know what Agnes has done to merit the accusation of having _deserted her benefactress_?”
”It is but too easy to answer that, aunt Compton,” replied the widow, ”and I am sorry to speak against my own sister's child; ... but truth is truth, and since you command me to tell you what I meant when I said she had deserted me, I will.... I have been arrested, aunt Compton, and that for no reason on the earth but because I was tempted to stay three or four days longer in London than I intended. Of course, I meant to go back to that paltry place, Cheltenham, and pay every farthing I owed there, the proof of which is that I _have_ paid every farthing, though it would have served them right to have kept them a year out of their money, instead of a month; ... but that's neither here nor there ...
though there was no danger of my staying in prison, I WAS there for three days, and Agnes could not tell but I might have been there for ever; ... yet, when I wrote her a most affectionate letter, begging her only to call upon me in my miserable solitude, she answered my pet.i.tion, which might have moved a heart of stone, with a flat refusal.... Ask her if she can deny this?”
”What say you, Agnes?... Is this so?” said the old lady, turning to the party accused.
”Aunt Betsy!...” said Agnes, and then stopped, as if unwilling, for some reason or other, to say more.
”YES or NO?” demanded Mrs. Barnaby, vehemently. ”Did you refuse to come to me, or not?”
”I did,” replied Agnes.
”I hope you are satisfied, aunt Compton?” cried the widow triumphantly.... ”By her own confession, you perceive that I have told you nothing but the truth.”
Agnes said nothing in reply to this, but loosening the strings of a silk bag which hung upon her arm, she took from it a small packet, and placed it in the hands of Miss Compton. ”What have we got here?” said the spinster sharply.... ”What do you give me this for, child?”
”I wish you to read what is there, if you please, aunt,” said Agnes.
Miss Compton laid it on the table before her, while she sought for her spectacles and adjusted them on her nose; but, while doing this, she kept her eyes keenly fixed upon the little packet, and not without reason, for, had she turned from it for a single instant, Mrs. Barnaby, who shrewdly suspected its contents, would infallibly have taken possession of it.
”My coachman and horses will get tired of all this, I think,” said Miss Compton; ”however, as you say, niece Martha, truth is truth, and must be sought after, even if it lies at the bottom of a well.... This is a letter, and directed to you, Miss Agnes; ... and this is the back of another, with some young-lady-like scrawling upon it.... Which am I to read first, pray?”
”The letter, aunt Betsy,” replied Agnes.
”So be it,” said the spinster with an air of great indifference; and drawing one of the candles towards her, and carefully snuffing it, she began clearly and deliberately reading aloud the letter already given, in which Mrs. Barnaby desired the presence of Agnes, and gave her instructions for her finding her way to the Fleet Prison. Having finished this, she replaced it quietly in its cover without saying a word, or even raising her eyes towards either of her companions; and taking the other paper, containing Agnes's reasons for non-compliance, read that through likewise, exactly in the same distinct tone, and replaced it with an equal absence of all commentary, in the cover. She then rose, and walking close up to her elder niece, who proffered not a word, looking in her face with a smile that must have been infinitely more provoking than the most violent indignation, said, ”Niece Martha!... the last time I saw you, if I remember rightly, you offered me some of your old clothes; but now you offer me none, which I consider as the more unkind, because, if you dressed as smart as you are now while in prison, you must most certainly wear very fine things when you are free.... And so, as you are no longer the kind niece you used to be, I don't think I shall come to see you any more. As for this young lady here, it appears to me that you have not been severe enough with her, Mrs. Barnaby.... I'll see if I can't teach her to behave better.... In prison or out of prison ... if I bid her come, we shall see if she dare look about her for such plausible reasons for refusing as she has given you. If she does, I'll certainly send her back to you, Mrs. Barnaby.
Ring the bell, naughty Agnes!”
The maid seemed to have been very near the door, for it instantly opened. ”Tell my servants that I am coming,” said the whimsical spinster, enacting the fine lady with excellent effect; and making a low, slow, and most ceremonious courtesy to the irritated, but perfectly overpowered Mrs. Barnaby, she made a sign to Agnes to precede her to the carriage, and left the room.
CHAPTER VII.
AGNES ELOPES WITH HER AUNT BETSY.
”Is it possible!” cried Agnes, the moment that the door of the carriage was closed upon them, ”is it possible that I am really under your protection, and going to your home, aunt Betsy?”
”To my temporary home, dear child, you are certainly going,” said the old lady, taking her hand; ”but I hope soon to have one more comfortable for you, my Agnes!”
”Where I shall find the bower and the bees? Is it not so, aunt?”
”Not exactly ... at least not at present.... But tell me, Agnes, don't you think I was very gentle and civil to Mrs. Barnaby?”
”It was certainly very wise not to reproach her, poor woman, more directly.... But, oh! dearest aunt Betsy, how well you know her!... If you had studied for a twelvemonth to find out how you might best have tormented her, you could have discovered no method so effectual as the making her first believe that you had a great fortune, and then that her own conduct had robbed her of your favour. Poor aunt Barnaby!... I cannot help pitying her!”
”You are tender-hearted, my dear, ... and a flatterer too.... You give me credit, I a.s.sure you, for a vast deal more cleverness than I possess: excepting on the subject of the old clothes which she offered me when we met in the cottage of dame Sims, I attempted no jestings with her....
But tell me, Agnes, have you not suffered dreadfully from the tyranny and vulgar ignorance of this detestable woman? Has she not almost broken your young heart?”
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