Hopes and Fears or, scenes from the life of a spinster. Yonge Charlotte Mary

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СКАЧАТЬ are all gone up-stairs!’ said Phœbe, dismayed.  ‘How late it must be!’

      ‘There’s a light in the smoking-room,’ said Robert; ‘we can get in that way.’

      ‘No, no!  Mervyn may have some one with him.  Come in quietly by the servants’ entrance.’

      No danger that people would not be on foot there!  As the brother and sister moved along the long stone passage, fringed with labelled bells, one open door showed two weary maidens still toiling over the plates of the late dinner; and another, standing ajar, revealed various men-servants regaling themselves; and words and tones caught Robert’s ear making his brow lower with sudden pain.

      Phœbe was proceeding to mount the stone stairs, when a rustling and chattering, as of maids descending, caused her and her brother to stand aside to make way, and down came a pair of heads and candles together over a green bandbox, and then voices in vulgar tones half suppressed.  ‘I couldn’t venture it, not with Miss Juliana—but Miss Fulmort—she never looks over her bills, nor knows what is in her drawers—I told her it was faded, when she had never worn it once!’

      And tittering, they passed by the brother and sister, who were still unseen, but Robert heaved a sigh and murmured, ‘Miserable work!’ somewhat to his sister’s surprise, for to her the great ill-regulated household was an unquestioned institution, and she did not expect him to bestow so much compassion on Augusta’s discarded bonnet.  At the top of the steps they opened a door, and entered a great wide hall.  All was exceedingly still.  A gas-light was burning over the fire-place, but the corners were in gloom, and the coats and cloaks looked like human figures in the distance.  Phœbe waited while Robert lighted her candle for her.  Albeit she was not nervous, she started when a door was sharply pushed open, and another figure appeared; but it was nothing worse than her brother Mervyn, in easy costume, and redolent of tobacco.

      About three years older than Robert, he was more neatly though not so strongly made, shorter, and with more regular features, but much less countenance.  If the younger brother had a worn and dejected aspect, the elder, except in moments of excitement, looked bored.  It was as if Robert really had the advantage of him in knowing what to be out of spirits about.

      ‘Oh! it’s you, is it?’ said he, coming forward, with a sauntering, scuffling movement in his slippers.  ‘You larking, Phœbe?  What next?’

      ‘I have been drinking tea with Miss Charlecote,’ explained Phœbe.

      Mervyn slightly shrugged his shoulders, murmuring something about ‘Lively pastime.’

      ‘I could not fetch her sooner,’ said Robert, ‘for my father went to sleep, and no one chose to be at the pains of entertaining Crabbe.’

      ‘Ay—a prevision of his staying to dinner made me stay and dine with the –th mess.  Very sagacious—eh, Pheebe?’ said he, turning, as if he liked to look into her fresh face.

      ‘Too sagacious,’ said she, smiling; ‘for you left him all to Robert.’

      Manner and look expressed that this was a matter of no concern, and he said ungraciously: ‘Nobody detained Robert, it was his own concern.’

      ‘Respect to my father and his guests,’ said Robert, with downright gravity that gave it the effect of a reproach.

      Mervyn only raised his shoulders up to his ears in contempt, took up his candle, and wished Phœbe good night.

      Poor Mervyn Fulmort!  Discontent had been his life-long comrade.  He detested his father’s occupation as galling to family pride, yet was greedy both of the profits and the management.  He hated country business and country life, yet chafed at not having the control of his mother’s estate, and grumbled at all his father’s measures.  ‘What should an old distiller know of landed property?’  In fact he saw the same difference between himself and his father as did the ungracious Plantagenet between the son of a Count and the son of a King: and for want of Provençal troubadours with whom to rebel, he supplied their place by the turf and the billiard-table.  At present he was expiating some heavy debts by a forced residence with his parents, and unwilling attention to the office, a most distasteful position, which he never attempted to improve, and which permitted him both the tedium of idleness and complaints against all the employment to which he was necessitated.

      The ill-managed brothers were just nearly enough of an age for rivalry, and had never loved one another even as children.  Robert’s steadiness had been made a reproach to Mervyn, and his grave, rather surly character had never been conciliating.  The independence left to the younger brother by their mother’s relative was grudged by the elder as an injury to himself, and it was one of the misfortunes of Beauchamp that the two sons had never been upon happy terms together.  Indeed, save that Robert’s right principles and silent habits hindered him from readily giving or taking offence, there might have been positive outbreaks of a very unbrotherly nature.

      CHAPTER II

      Enough of science and of art,

      Close up those barren leaves!

      Come forth, and bring with you a heart

      That watches and receives.

—Wordsworth

      ‘Half-past five, Miss Phœbe.’

      ‘Thank you;’ and before her eyes were open, Phœbe was on the floor.

      Six was the regulation hour.  Systematic education had discovered that half-an-hour was the maximum allowable for morning toilette, and at half-past six the young ladies must present themselves in the school-room.

      The Bible, Prayer Book, and ‘Daily Meditations’ could have been seldom touched, had not Phœbe, ever since Robert had impressed on her the duty of such constant study, made an arrangement for gaining an extra half-hour.  Cold mornings and youthful sleepiness had received a daily defeat: and, mayhap, it was such a course of victory that made her frank eyes so blithesome, and her step so free and light.

      That bright scheme, too, shone before her, as such a secret of glad hope, that, knowing how uncertain were her chances of pleasure, she prayed that she might not set her heart on it.  It was no trifle to her, and her simple spirit ventured to lay her wishes before her loving Father in Heaven, and entreat that she might not be denied, if it were right for her and would be better for Robert; or, if not, that she might be good under the disappointment.

      Her orisons sent her forth all brightness, with her small head raised like that of a young fawn, her fresh lips parted by an incipient smile of hope, and her cheeks in a rosy glow of health, a very Hebe, as Mr. Saville had once called her.

      Such a morning face as hers was not always met by Miss Fennimore, who, herself able to exist on five hours’ sleep, had no mercy on that of her pupils; and she rewarded Phœbe’s smiling good-morrow with ‘This is better than I expected, you returned home so late.’

      ‘Robert could not come for me early,’ said Phœbe.

      ‘How did you spend the evening?’

      ‘Miss Charlecote read aloud to me.  It was a delightful German story.’

      ‘Miss Charlecote is a very well-informed person, and I am glad the time was not absolutely lost.  I hope you observed the condensation of the vapours on your way home.’

      ‘Robert was talking to me, and the nightingales were singing.’

      ‘It is a СКАЧАТЬ