The Cuckoo in the Nest (Romance Classic). Mrs. Oliphant

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СКАЧАТЬ effect upon her for the first moment was to make her knees tremble, and her strength fail; for the next, to brace her up to a boldness unknown to her, though she had never before been timid at any time.

      “If you please, my lady,” said John, obsequious, yet with his eyes dancing with excitement and curiosity, at the carriage door, “that is Miss Hewitt of the Seven Thorns on the doorstep, if it is her your ladyship wants. Shall I say your ladyship wishes to——”

      “Look here! you’ve got to go off to the post-office at once to get me some stamps. I’ll manage the rest for myself,” said Lady Piercey, thrusting two half-crowns into the man’s hand. Poor John! with the drama thus cut short at its most exciting moment! She waited till he had turned his back, and then she waved her hand to Patty, still standing thunderstricken on the threshold. “Hi!—here!” cried Lady Piercey, who did not err in her communications with the country people round her on the civil side.

      If it had not been for overpowering excitement, curiosity, and the desire for warfare, which is native to the human breast, Patty would have stood upon her dignity, disregarded this peremptory call, and marched away. She almost tried to do so, feeling more or less what an immense advantage it would have given her, but her instinct was too strong—a double and complicated instinct which moved her as if she had not been at all a free agent: first, the impulse to obey my lady, which was a thing that might have been overcome, but second, the impulse to fight my lady, which was much less easy to master, and, last of all, an overpowering, dizzying, uncontrollable curiosity to know what she could have to say. She stepped down from her own door deliberately, however, and with all the elegance and eloquence she could put into her movements, and went slowly forward to the carriage door. She was in her best dress, which was not, perhaps, so becoming to Patty as the homelier attire, which was more perfect of its kind than the second-rate young ladyhood of her Sunday frock. Her hat was very smart with flowers and bows of velvet, which happened to be the fashion of the time, and she carried a parasol covered with lace, and wore a pair of light gloves, which were not in harmony with the colour of her dress—neither, indeed, were Lady Piercey’s own gloves in harmony with her apparel, but that was a different matter. The old lady’s keen glance took in every article of Patty’s cheap wardrobe, with a comment on the way these creatures dress! as she came forward with foolish deliberation, as if to allow herself time to be examined from head to foot.

      “You are Patty, that used to come out so well in the examinations,” Lady Piercey said, with a breathlessness which showed what excitement existed on her side.

      “I am Patience Hewitt, my lady, if that is what you’re pleased to ask.”

      Margaret sat looking on trembling at these two belligerents: her aunt, who overbore her, Margaret, without any trouble silenced all her arguments and shut her mouth; and this girl of the village and public-house, the Sunday-school child whom she remembered, the pet of the rector, the clever little monitor and ringleader—Patty, of the Seven Thorns, something between a housemaid and a barmaid, and Lady Piercey of Greyshott! The looker-on, acknowledging herself inferior to both of them, felt that they were not badly matched.

      “Ah!” said Lady Piercey, “yes, that’s what I asked. You’re Robert Hewitt’s daughter, I suppose, who keeps the public-house on our property?”

      “Begging your pardon, my lady, the old inn of the Seven Thorns is my father’s property, and has been his and his family’s for I don’t know how many hundred years.”

      “Oh!” cried Lady Piercey with a stare, “you speak up very bold, young woman; yet you’ve been bred up decently, I suppose, and taught how you ought to conduct yourself in that condition in which God has placed you.”

      “If you wish to know about my character, my lady, the rector will give it you; though I don’t know why you should trouble about it, seeing as I am not likely to wish a place under your ladyship, or under anybody, for that matter.”

      “No,” cried Lady Piercey, exasperated into active hostilities; “you would like to climb up over our heads, that’s what you would like to do.”

      Patty replied to the excited stare with a look of candid surprise. “How could I climb over anybody’s head, I wonder? me that manages everything for father, and keeps house at the Seven Thorns?”

      “You look very mild and very fine,” said Lady Piercey, leaning over the side of the carriage, and emphasising her words with look and gesture, “but I’ve come here expressly to let you understand that I know everything, and that what you’re aiming at sha’n’t be! Don’t look at me as if you couldn’t divine what I was speaking of! I know every one of your plots and plans—every one! and if you think that you, a bit of a girl in a public-house, can get the better of Sir Giles and me, the chief people in the county, I can tell you you’re very far mistaken.” Lady Piercey leant over the side of the carriage and spoke in a low voice, which was much more impressive than if she had raised it. She had the fear of the coachman before her eyes, who was holding his very breath to listen, growing redder and redder in the effort, but in vain. Lady Piercey projected her head over the carriage door till it almost touched the young head which Patty held high, with all the flowers and feathers on her fine hat thrilling. “Look you here!” she said, with that low, rolling contralto which sounded like bass in the girl’s very ears, “we’ve ways and means you know nothing about. We’re the great people of this county, and you’re no better than the dust under our feet: do you hear? do you hear?”

      “Oh yes, I hear very well, my lady,” said Patty, loud out, which was a delight to the coachman, “but perhaps I am not of that opinion.” There was, however, a little quaver of panic in her voice. Lady Piercey was right so far that a person of the people, when uneducated, finds it difficult to free him-, and especially herself, from a superstition as to what the little great, the dominant class can do.

      “Opinion or no opinion,” said the old lady, “just you understand this, Miss Polly, or whatever your name is: You don’t know what people like us can do—and will do if we’re put to it. We can put a man away within stone walls that is going to disgrace himself: we can do that as easy as look at him; and we can ruin a designing family. That we can! ruin it root and branch, so that everything will have to be sold up, and those that offend us swept out of the country. Do you hear? Everything I say I can make good. We’ll ruin you all if you don’t mind. We’ll sweep you away—your name and everything, and will shut him up that you are trying to work upon, so that you shall never hear of him again. Do you understand all that? Now, if you like to think you can fight me and Sir Giles, a little thing like you, a little nobody, you can just try it! And whatever happens will be on your own head. Oh, are you back already, John? What haste you have made! Good-bye, Patty; I hope you understand all I’ve said to you. Those chickens, I can tell you, will never be hatched. John—home!”

      Patty stood looking after the carriage with her breast heaving and her nostrils dilating. The old lady had judged truly. She was frightened. Panic had seized her. She believed in these unknown miraculous powers. What could the Seven Thorns do against the Manor House? Patty Hewitt against Sir Giles and Lady Piercey? It was a question to freeze the very blood in the veins of a poor little country girl.

      CHAPTER VIII.

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      But it was not for nothing that Patty had put on her best things: quivering and excited as she was, she would not go in again, however discouraged, and take them off and return to the usual occupations, which were so very little like the occupations of the great folks of the Manor. She went on a little way towards the village very slowly, with all her fine feathers drooping, dragging the point of her lace-covered parasol along СКАЧАТЬ