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

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СКАЧАТЬ under side.  How it reminds me of old times.  I used so to look forward to never seeing a loin of mutton again.’

      ‘As your chief ambition?’ said Miss Fennimore, who, governess as she was, could not help being a little satirical, especially when Bertha’s eyes twinkled responsively.

      ‘One does get so tired of mutton and rice-pudding,’ answered the less observant Miss Fulmort, who was but dimly conscious of any one’s existence save her own, and could not have credited a governess laughing at her; ‘but really this is not so bad, after all, for a change; and some pale ale.  You don’t mean that you exist without pale ale?’

      ‘We all drink water by preference,’ said Miss Fennimore.

      ‘Indeed!  Miss Watson, our finishing governess, never drank anything but claret, and she always had little pâtés, or fish, or something, because she said her appetite was to be consulted, she was so delicate.  She was very thin, I know; and what a figure you have, Phœbe!  I suppose that is water drinking.  Bridger did say it would reduce me to leave off pale ale, but I can’t get on without it, I get so horridly low.  Don’t you think that’s a sign, Miss Fennimore?’

      ‘I beg your pardon, a sign of what?’

      ‘That one can’t go on without it.  Miss Charlecote said she thought it was all constitution whether one is stout or not, and that nothing made much difference, when I asked her about German wines.’

      ‘Oh! Augusta, has Miss Charlecote been here this morning?’ exclaimed Phœbe.

      ‘Yes; she came at twelve o’clock, and there was I actually pinned down to entertain her, for mamma was not come down.  So I asked her about those light foreign wines, and whether they do really make one thinner; you know one always has them at her house.’

      ‘Did mamma see her?’ asked poor Phœbe, anxiously.

      ‘Oh yes, she was bent upon it.  It was something about you.  Oh! she wants to take you to stay with her in that horrible hole of hers in the City—very odd of her.  What do you advise me to do, Miss Fennimore?  Do you think those foreign wines would bring me down a little, or that they would make me low and sinking?’

      ‘Really, I have no experience on the subject!’ said Miss Fennimore, loftily.

      ‘What did mamma say?’ was poor Phœbe’s almost breathless question.

      ‘Oh! it makes no difference to mamma’ (Phœbe’s heart bounded); but Augusta went on: ‘she always has her soda-water, you know; but of course I should take a hamper from Bass.  I hate being unprovided.’

      ‘But about my going to London?’ humbly murmured Phœbe.

      ‘What did she say?’ considered the elder sister, aloud.  ‘I don’t know, I’m sure.  I was not attending—the heat does make one so sleepy—but I know we all wondered she should want you at your age.  You know some people take a spoonful of vinegar to fine themselves down, and some of those wines are very acid,’ she continued, pressing on with her great subject of consultation.

      ‘If it be an object with you, Miss Fulmort, I should recommend the vinegar,’ said Miss Fennimore.  ‘There is nothing like doing a thing outright!’

      ‘And, oh! how glorious it would be to see her taking it!’ whispered Bertha into Phœbe’s ear, unheard by Augusta, who, in her satisfied stolidity, was declaring, ‘No, I could not undertake that.  I am the worst person in the world for taking anything disagreeable.’

      And having completed her meal, which she had contrived to make out of the heart of the joint, leaving the others little but fat, she walked off to her ride, believing that she had done a gracious and condescending action in making conversation with her inferiors of the west wing.

      Yet Augusta Fulmort might have been good for something, if her mind and her affections had not lain fallow ever since she escaped from a series of governesses who taught her self-indulgence by example.

      ‘I wonder what mamma said!’ exclaimed Phœbe, in her strong craving for sympathy in her suspense.

      ‘I am sorry the subject has been brought forward, if it is to unsettle you, Phœbe,’ said Miss Fennimore, not unkindly; ‘I regret your being twice disappointed; but, if your mother should refer it to me, as I make no doubt she will, I should say that it would be a great pity to break up our course of studies.’

      ‘It would only be for a little while,’ sighed Phœbe; ‘and Miss Charlecote is to show me all the museums.  I should see more with her than ever I shall when I am come out; and I should be with Robert.’

      ‘I intended asking permission to take you through a systematic course of lectures and specimens when the family are next in town,’ said Miss Fennimore.  ‘Ordinary, desultory sight-seeing leaves few impressions; and though Miss Charlecote is a superior person, her mind is not of a sufficiently scientific turn to make her fully able to direct you.  I shall trust to your good sense, Phœbe, for again submitting to defer the pleasure till it can be enhanced.’

      Good sense had a task imposed on it for which it was quite inadequate; but there was something else in Phœbe which could do the work better than her unconvinced reason.  Even had she been sure of the expediency of being condemned to the schoolroom, no good sense would have brought that resolute smile, or driven back the dew in her eyes, or enabled her voice to say, with such sweet meekness, ‘Very well, Miss Fennimore; I dare say it may be right.’

      Miss Fennimore was far more concerned than if the submission had been grudging.  She debated with herself whether she should consider her resolution irrevocable.

      Ten minutes were allowed after dinner in the parterre, and these could only be spent under the laurel hedge; the sun was far too hot everywhere else.  Phœbe had here no lack of sympathy, but had to restrain Bertha, who, with angry gestures, was pronouncing the governess a horrid cross-patch, and declaring that no girls ever were used as they were; while Maria observed, that if Phœbe went to London, she must go too.

      ‘We shall all go some day,’ said Phœbe, cheerfully, ‘and we shall enjoy it all the more if we are good now.  Never mind, Bertha, we shall have some nice walks.’

      ‘Yes, all bothered with botany,’ muttered Bertha.

      ‘I thought, at least, you would be glad of me,’ said Phœbe, smiling; ‘you who stay at home.’

      ‘To be sure, I am,’ said Bertha; ‘but it is such a shame!  I shall tell Robin, and he’ll say so too.  I shall tell him you nearly cried!’

      ‘Don’t vex Robin,’ said Phœbe.  ‘When you go out, you should set yourself to tell him pleasant things.’

      ‘So I’m to tell him you wouldn’t go on any account.  You like your political economy much too well!’

      ‘Suppose you say nothing about it,’ said Phœbe.  ‘Make yourself merry with him.  That’s what you’ve got to do.  He takes you out to entertain you, not to worry about grievances.’

      ‘Do you never talk about grievances?’ asked Bertha, twinkling up her eyes.

      Phœbe hesitated.  ‘Not my own,’ she said, ‘because I have not got any.’

      ‘Has Robert, then?’ asked Bertha.

      ‘Nobody has grievances who is out of the schoolroom,’ СКАЧАТЬ