INTENTIONS.
The position in which Lady Theobald found herself placed, after these
occurrences, was certainly a difficult and unpleasant one. It was Mr.
Francis Barold's caprice, for the time being, to develop an intimacy with
Mr. Burmistone. He had, it seemed, chosen to become interested in him
during their sojourn at Broadoaks. He had discovered him to be a
desirable companion, and a clever, amiable fellow. This much he
condescended to explain incidentally to her ladyship's self.
"I can't say I expected to meet a nice fellow or a companionable fellow,"
he remarked, "and I was agreeably surprised to find him both. Never says
too much or too little. Never bores a man."
To this Lady Theobald could make no reply. Singularly enough, she had
discovered early in their acquaintance that her wonted weapons were
likely to dull their edges upon the steely coldness of Mr. Francis
Barold's impassibility. In the presence of this fortunate young man,
before whom his world had bowed the knee from his tenderest infancy, she
lost the majesty of her demeanor. He refused to be affected by it: he was
even implacable enough to show openly that it bored him, and to insinuate
by his manner that he did not intend to submit to it. He entirely ignored
the claim of relationship, and acted according to the promptings of his
own moods. He did not feel it at all incumbent upon him to remain at
Oldclough Hall, and subject himself to the time-honored customs there
in vogue. He preferred to accept Mr. Burmistone's invitation to become
his guest at the handsome house he had just completed, in which he lived
in bachelor splendor. Accordingly he installed himself there, and thereby
complicated matters greatly.
Slowbridge found itself in a position as difficult as, and far more
delicate than, Lady Theobald's. The tea-drinkings in honor of that
troublesome young person, Miss Octavia Bassett, having been inaugurated
by her ladyship, must go the social rounds, according to ancient custom.
But what, in discretion's name, was to be done concerning Mr. Francis
Barold? There was no doubt whatever that he must not be ignored; and, in
that case, what difficulties presented themselves!
The mamma of the two Misses Egerton, who was a nervous and easily
subjugated person, was so excited and overwrought by the prospect before
her, that, in contemplating it when she wrote her invitations, she was
affected to tears.
"I can assure you, Lydia," she said, "that I have not slept for three
nights, I have been so harassed. Here, on one hand, is Mr. Francis
Barold, who must be invited; and on the other is Mr. Burmistone, whom we
cannot pass over; and here is Lady Theobald, who will turn to stone the
moment she sees him,--though, goodness knows, I am sure he seems a very
quiet, respectable man, and said some of the most complimentary things
about your playing. And here is that dreadful girl, who is enough to give
one cold chills, and who may do all sorts of dreadful things, and is
certainly a living example to all respectable, well-educated girls. And
the blindest of the blind could see that nothing would offend Lady
Theobald more fatally than to let her be thrown with Francis Barold;
and how one is to invite them into the same room, and keep them apart,
I'm sure I don't know how. Lady Theobald herself could not do it, and how
can we be expected to? And the refreshments on my mind too; and Forbes
failing on her tea-cakes, and bringing up Sally Lunns like lead."
That these misgivings were equally shared by each entertainer in
prospective, might be adduced from the fact that the same afternoon Mrs.
Burnham and Miss Pilcher appeared upon the scene, to consult with Mrs.
Egerton upon the subject.
Miss Lydia and Miss Violet being dismissed up-stairs to their practising,
the three ladies sat in the darkened parlor, and talked the matter over
in solemn conclave.
"I have consulted Miss Pilcher, and mentioned the affair to Mrs. Gibson,"
announced Mrs. Burnham. "And, really, we have not yet been able to arrive
at any conclusion."
Mrs. Egerton shook her head tearfully.
"Pray don't come to me, my dears," she said,--"don't, I beg of you! I
have thought about it until my circulation has all gone wrong, and Lydia
has been applying hot-water bottles to my feet all the morning. I gave it
up at half-past two, and set Violet to writing invitations to one and
all, let the consequences be what they may."
Miss Pilcher glanced at Mrs. Burnham, and Mrs. Burnham glanced at Miss
Pilcher.
"Perhaps," Miss Pilcher suggested to her companion, "it would be as well
for you to mention your impressions."
Mrs. Burnham's manner became additionally cautious. She bent forward
slightly.
"My dear," she said, "has it struck you that Lady Theobald has
any--intentions, so to speak?"
"Intentions?" repeated Mrs. Egerton.
"Yes," with deep significance,--"so to speak. With regard to Lucia."
Mrs. Egerton looked utterly helpless.
"Dear me!" she ejaculated plaintively. "I have never had time to think of
it. Dear me! With regard to Lucia!"
Mrs. Burnham became more significant still.
"_And_" she added, "Mr. Francis Barold."
Mrs. Egerton turned to Miss Pilcher, and saw confirmation of the fact in
her countenance.
"Dear, dear!" she said. "That makes it worse than ever."
"It is certain," put in Miss Pilcher, "that the union would be a
desirable one; and we have reason to remark that a deep interest in Mr.
Francis Barold has been shown by Lady Theobald. He has been invited to
make her house his home during his stay in Slowbridge; and, though he has
not done so, the fact that he has not is due only to some inexplicable
reluctance upon his own part. And we all remember that Lady Theobald once
plainly intimated that she anticipated Lucia forming, in the future, a
matrimonial alliance."
"Oh!" commented Mrs. Egerton, with some slight impatience, "it is all
very well for Lady Theobald to have intentions for Lucia; but, if the
young man has none, I really don't see that her intentions will be likely
to result in any thing particular. And I am sure Mr. Francis Barold is
not in the mood to be influenced in that way now. He is more likely to
entertain himself with Miss Octavia Bassett, who will take him out in the
moonlight, and make herself agreeable to him in her American style."
Miss Pilcher and Mrs. Burnham exchanged glances again.
"My dear," said Mrs. Burnham, "he has called upon her twice since Lady
Theobald's tea. They say she invites him herself, and flirts with him
openly in the garden."
"Her conduct is such," said Miss Pilcher, with a shudder, "that the
blinds upon the side of the seminary which faces Miss Bassett's garden
are kept closed by my orders. I have young ladies under my care whose
characters are in process of formation, and whose parents repose
confidence in me."
"Nothing but my friendship for Belinda Bassett," remarked Mrs. Burnham,
"would induce me to invite the girl to my house." Then she turned to Mrs.
Egerton. "But--ahem--have you included them _all_ in your invitations?"
she observed.
Mrs. Egerton became plaintive again.
"I don't see how I could be expected to do any thing else," she said.
"Lady Theobald herself could not invite Mr. Francis Barold from Mr.
Burmistone's house, and leave Mr. Burmistone at home. And, after all, I
must say it is my opinion nobody would have objected to Mr. Burmistone,
in the first place, if Lady Theobald had not insisted upon it."
Mrs. Burnham reflected.
"Perhaps that is true," she admitted cautiously at length. "And it must
be confessed that a man in his position is not entirely without his
advantages--particularly in a place where there are but few gentlemen,
and those scarcely desirable as"--
She paused there discreetly, but Mrs. Egerton was not so discreet.
"There are a great many young ladies in Slowbridge," she said, shaking
her head,--"a great many! And with five in a family, all old enough to be
out of school, I am sure it is flying in the face of Providence to
neglect one's opportunities."
When the two ladies took their departure, Mrs. Burnham seemed reflective.
Finally she said,--"Poor Mrs. Egerton's mind is not what it was, and it
never was remarkably strong. It must be admitted, too, that there is a
lack of--of delicacy. Those great plain girls of hers must be a trial to
her."
As she spoke they were passing the privet hedge which surrounded Miss
Bassett's house and garden; and a sound caused both to glance around. The
front door had just been opened; and a gentleman was descending the
steps,--a young gentleman in neat clerical garb, his guileless
ecclesiastical countenance suffused with mantling blushes of confusion
and delight. He stopped on the gravel path to receive the last words of
Miss Octavia Bassett, who stood on the threshold, smiling down upon him
in the prettiest way in the world.
"Tuesday afternoon," she said. "Now don't forget; because I shall ask Mr.
Barold and Miss Gaston, on purpose to play against us. Even St. James
can't object to croquet."
"I--indeed, I shall be _most_ happy and--and delighted," stammered her
departing guest, "if you will be so kind as to--to instruct me, and
forgive my awkwardness."
"Oh! I'll instruct you," said Octavia. "I have instructed people before,
and I know how."
Mrs. Burnham clutched Miss Pilcher's arm.
"Do you see who _that_ is?" she demanded. "Would you have believed it?"
Miss Pilcher preserved a stony demeanor.
"I would believe any thing of Miss Octavia Bassett," she replied. "There
would be nothing at all remarkable, to my mind, in her flirting with the
bishop himself! Why should she hesitate to endeavor to entangle the
curate of St. James?"