The Three Brides. Yonge Charlotte Mary

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СКАЧАТЬ murmured Cecil, in a low voice, as if she was quite dazzled.  “You never said she was like that,” she added reproachfully to Julius.

      “Our encounter was in the dark,” he answered.

      “Oh, I did not mean the young one, but Lady Tyrrell.  She is just like a gem we saw at Firenze—which was it?”

      “Where?” said Raymond, bewildered.

      “Firenze—Florence,” she said, deigning to translate; and finding her own reply.  “Ah, yes, the Medusa!” then, as more than one exclaimed in indignant dismay, she said, “No, not the Gorgon, but the beautiful winged head, with only two serpents on the brow and one coiled round the neck, and the pensive melancholy face.”

      “I know,” said Julius, shortly; while the other gentlemen entered into an argument, some defending the beauty of the younger sister, some of the elder; and it lasted till they entered the park, where all were glad to partake of their well-earned meal, most of the gentlemen having been at work since dawn without sustenance, except a pull at the beer served out to the firemen.

      Cecil was not at all shy, and was pleased to take her place as representative lady of the house; but somehow, though every one was civil and attentive to her, she found herself effaced by the more full-blown Rosamond, accustomed to the same world as the guests; and she could not help feeling the same sense of depression as when she had to yield the head of her father’s table to her step-mother.

      Nor could she have that going to church for the first time in state with her bridegroom she had professed to dread, but had really anticipated with complacency; for though Julius had bidden the bells to be rung for afternoon service, Raymond was obliged to go back to Wil’sbro’ to make arrangements for the burnt-out families, and she had to go as lonely as Anne herself.

      Lady Tyrrell and her sister were both at Compton Church, and overtook the three sisters-in-law as they were waiting to be joined by the Rector.

      “We shall have to take shelter with you,” said Lady Tyrrell, “poor burnt-out beings that we are.”

      “Do you belong to Wil’sbro’?” said Rosamond.

      “Yes; St. Nicholas is an immense straggling parish, going four miles along the river.  I don’t know how we shall ever be able to go back again to poor old Mr. Fuller.  You’ll never get rid of us from Compton.”

      “I suppose they will set about rebuilding the church at once,” said Cecil.  “Of course they will form a committee, and put my husband on it.”

      “In the chair, no doubt,” said Lady Tyrrell, in a tone that sounded to Rosamond sarcastic, but which evidently gratified Cecil.  “But we will have a committee of our own, and you will have to preside, and patronize our bazaar.  Of course you know all about them.”

      “Oh yes!” said Cecil, eagerly.  “We have one every year for the Infirmary, only my father did not approve of my selling at a stall.”

      “Ah! quite right then, but you are a married woman now, and that is quite a different thing.  The stall of the three brides.  What an attraction!  I shall come and talk about it when I make my call in full form!  Good-bye again.”

      Cecil’s balance was more than restored by this entire recognition to be prime lady-patroness of everything.  To add to her satisfaction, when her husband came home to dinner, bringing with him both the curates, she found there was to be a meeting on Tuesday in the Assembly-room, of both sexes, to consider of the relief of the work-people, and that he would be glad to take her to it.  Moreover, as it was to be strictly local, Rosamond was not needed there, though Raymond was not equally clear as to the Rector, since he believed that the St. Nicholas parishioners meant to ask the loan of Compton Poynsett Church for one service on a Sunday.

      “Then I shall keep out of the way,” said Julius.  “I do not want to have the request made to me in public.”

      “You do not mean to refuse?” said Cecil, with a sort of self-identification with her constituents.

      “The people are welcome to attend as many of our services as they like; but there is no hour that I could give the church up to Mr. Fuller on a Sunday.”

      “Nor would the use of St. Nicholas be very edifying for our people,” added Mr. Bindon.

      His junior clenched it by saying with a laugh, “I should think not!  Fancy old Fuller’s rusty black gown up in our pulpit!”

      “I rejoice to say that is burnt,” rejoined Mr. Bindon.

      “What bet will you take that a new one will be the first thing subscribed for?” said the deacon, bringing a certain grave look on the faces of both the elder clergy, and a horror-stricken one upon Anne’s; while Cecil pronounced her inevitable dictum, that at Dunstone Mr. Venn always preached in a gown, and “we” should never let him think of anything nonsensical.

      Rosamond was provoked into a display of her solitary bit of ecclesiastical knowledge—“A friar’s gown, the most Popish vestment in the church.”

      Cecil, thoroughly angered, flushed up to the eyes and bit her lips, unable to find a reply, while all the gentlemen laughed.  Frank asked if it were really so, and Mr. Bindon made the well-known explanation that the Geneva gown was neither more nor less than the monk’s frock.

      “I shall write and ask Mr. Venn,” gasped Cecil; but her husband stifled the sound by saying, “I saw little Pettitt, Julius, this afternoon, overwhelmed with gratitude to you for all the care you took of his old mother, and all his waxen busts.”

      “Ah! by the bye!” said Charlie, “I did meet the Rector staggering out, with the fascinating lady with the long eyelashes in one arm, and the moustached hero in the other.”

      “There was no pacifying the old lady without,” said Julius.  “I had just coaxed her to the door, when she fell to wringing her hands.  Ah! those lovely models, that were worth thirty shillings each, with natural hair—that they should be destroyed!  If the heat or the water did but come near them, Adolphus would never get over it.  I could only pacify her by promising to go back for these idols of his heart as soon as she was safe; and after all, I had to dash at them through the glass, and that was the end of my spectacles.”

      “Where was Pettitt himself?”

      “Well employed, poor little fellow, saving the people in those three cottages of his.  No one supposed his shop in danger, but the fire took a sudden freak and came down Long Street; and though the house is standing, it had to be emptied and deluged with water to save it.  I never knew Pettitt had a mother till I found her mounting guard, like one distracted, over her son’s bottles of perfumery.”

      “And dyes?” murmured Raymond under his breath; but Frank caught the sound, and said, “Ah, Julius! don’t I remember his inveigling you into coming out with scarlet hair?”

      “I don’t think I’ve seen him since,” said Julius, laughing.  “I believe he couldn’t resist such an opportunity of practising his art.  And for my part, I must say for myself, that it was in our first holidays, and Raymond and Miles had been black and blue the whole half-year from having fought my battles whenever I was called either ‘Bunny’ or ‘Grandfather.’  So when he assured me he could turn my hair to as sweet a raven-black as Master Poynsett’s, I thought it would be pleasing to all, forgetting that he could not dye my eyes, and that their effect would have been some degrees more comical.”

      “For shame, Julius!” СКАЧАТЬ