_Chapter V_
Miss Marjoribanks did not leave the contralto any time to recover fromher surprise; she went up to her direct where she stood, with her songarrested on her lips, as she had risen hastily from the piano. "Is itRose?" said Lucilla, going forward with the most eager cordiality, andholding out both her hands; though, to be sure, she knew very well itwas not Rose, who was about half the height of the singer, and was knownto everybody in Mount Pleasant to be utterly innocent of a voice.
"No," said Miss Lake, who was much astonished and startled and offended,as was unfortunately rather her custom. She was a young woman withoutany of those instincts of politeness, which make some people pleasant inspite of themselves; and she added nothing to soften this abruptnegative, but drew her hands away from the stranger and stood boltupright, looking at her, with a burning blush, caused by temper muchmore than by embarrassment, on her face.
"Then," said Lucilla, dropping lightly into the most comfortable chairshe could get sight of in the bare little parlour, "it is Barbara--andthat is a great deal better; Rose is a good little thing, but--she isdifferent, you know. It is so odd you should not remember me; I thoughteverybody knew me in Carlingford. You know I have been a long time away,and now I have come home for good. Your voice is just the very thing togo with mine: was it not a lucky thing that I should have passed just atthe right moment? I don't know how it is, but somehow these luckychances _always_ happen to me. I am Lucilla Marjoribanks, you know."
"Indeed!" said Barbara, who had not the least intention of being civil,"I did not recognise you in the least."
"Yes, I remember you were always shortsighted a little," said MissMarjoribanks calmly. "I should so like if we could try a duet. I havebeen having lessons in Italy, you know, and I am sure I could give you afew hints. I always like, when I can, to be of use. Tell me what songsyou have that we could sing together. You know, my dear, it is not as ifI was asking you for mere amusement to myself; my grand object in lifeis to be a comfort to papa----"
"Do you mean Dr Marjoribanks?" said the uncivil Barbara. "I am sure hedoes not care in the least for music. I think you must be making amistake----"
"Oh, no," said Lucilla, "I never make mistakes. I don't mean to sing_to_ him, you know; but you are just the very person I wanted. As forthe ridiculous idea some people have that nobody can be called on whodoes not live in Grange Lane, I assure you I mean to make an end ofthat. Of course I cannot commence just all in a moment. But it wouldalways be an advantage to practise a little together. I like to knowexactly how far one can calculate upon everybody; then one can tell,without fear of breaking down, just what one may venture to do."
"I don't understand in the least," said Barbara, whose pride was up inarms. "Perhaps you think I am a professional singer?"
"My dear, a professional singer spoils everything," said MissMarjoribanks; "it changes the character of an evening altogether. Thereare so few people who understand that. When you have professionalsingers, you have to give yourself up to music; and that is not my viewin the least. My great aim, as all my friends are aware, is to be acomfort to dear papa."
"I wish you would not talk in riddles," said Lucilla's amazed andindignant companion, in her round rich contralto. "I suppose you reallyare Miss Marjoribanks. I have always heard that Miss Marjoribanks was alittle----"
"There!" said Lucilla triumphantly; "really it is almost like arecitativo to hear you speak. I am so glad. What have you got there? Oh,to be sure, it's _that_ duet out of the Trovatore. Do let us try it;there is nobody here, and everything is so convenient--and you know itwould never do to risk a breakdown. Will you play the accompaniment, orshall I?" said Miss Marjoribanks, taking off her gloves. As for thedrawing-master's daughter, she stood aghast, lost in such suddenbewilderment and perplexity that she could find no words to reply. Shewas not in the least amiable or yielding by nature; but Lucilla took itso much as a matter of course that Barbara could not find a word tosay; and before she could be sure that it was real, Miss Marjoribankshad seated herself at the piano. Barbara was so obstinate that she wouldnot sing the first part, which ought to have been hers; but she was notclever enough for her antagonist. Lucilla sang her part by herselfgallantly; and when it came to Barbara's turn the second time, MissMarjoribanks essayed the second in a false voice, which drove thecontralto off her guard; and then the magnificent volume of sound flowedforth, grand enough to have filled Lucilla with envy if she had not beensustained by that sublime confidence in herself which is the firstnecessity to a woman with a mission. She paused a moment in theaccompaniment to clap her hands after that strophe was accomplished, andthen resumed with energy. For, to be sure, she knew by instinct whatsort of clay the people were made of by whom she had to work, and gavethem their reward with that liberality and discrimination which is theglory of enlightened despotism. Miss Marjoribanks was naturally elatedwhen she had performed this important and successful _tour_. She got upfrom the piano, and closed it in her open, imperial way. "I do not wantto tire you, you know," she said; "that will do for to-day. I told youyour voice was the very thing to go with mine. Give my love to Rose whenshe comes in, but don't bring her with you when you come to me. She is agood little thing--but then she is different, you know," said the blandLucilla; and she held out her hand to her captive graciously, andgathered up her parasol, which she had left on her chair. Barbara Lakelet her visitor go after this, with a sense that she had fallen asleep,and had dreamt it all; but, after all, there was something in the visitwhich was not disagreeable when she came to think it over. Thedrawing-master was poor, and he had a quantity of children, as wasnatural, and Barbara had never forgiven her mother for dying just at themoment when she had a chance of seeing a little of what she called theworld. At that time Mr Lake and his portfolio of drawings were asked outfrequently to tea; and when he had pupils in the family, some kindpeople asked him to bring one of his daughters with him--so thatBarbara, who was ambitious, had beheld herself for a month or two almoston the threshold of Grange Lane. And it was at this moment of allothers, just at the same time as Mrs Marjoribanks finished her palecareer, that poor Mrs Lake thought fit to die, to the injury of herdaughter's prospects and the destruction of her hopes. NaturallyBarbara had never quite forgiven that injury. It was this sense ofhaving been ill-used which made her so resolute about sending Rose toMount Pleasant, though the poor little girl did not in the least want togo, and was very happy helping her papa at the School of Design. ButBarbara saw no reason why Rose should be happy, while she herself had toresign her inclinations and look after a set of odious children. To besure, it was a little hard upon a young woman of a proper ambition, whoknew she was handsome, to fall back into housekeeping, and consent toremain unseen and unheard; for Barbara was also aware that she had aremarkable voice. In these circumstances, it may be imagined that, afterthe first movement of a passionate temper was over, when she had takenbreath, and had time to consider this sudden and extraordinary visit, aglimmer of hope and interest penetrated into the bosom of the gloomygirl. She was two years older than Miss Marjoribanks, and as differentin "style" as she was in voice. She was not stout as yet, though it isthe nature of a contralto to be stout; but she was tall, with all dueopportunity for that development which might come later. And thenBarbara possessed a kind of beauty, the beauty of a passionate andsomewhat sullen brunette, dark and glowing, with straight blackeyebrows, very dark and very straight, which gave, oddly enough, asuggestion of oblique vision to her eyes; but her eyes were not in theleast oblique, and looked at you straight from under that black line ofshadow with no doubtful expression. She was shy in a kind of way, as wasnatural to a young woman who had never seen any society, and feltherself, on the whole, injured and unappreciated. But no two thingscould be more different than this shyness which made Barbara look youstraight in the face with a kind of scared defiance, and the sweetshyness that pleaded for kind treatment in the soft eyes of little Rose,who was plain, and had the oddest longing to make people comfortable,and please them
in her way, which, to be sure, was not alwayssuccessful. Barbara sat down on the stool before the piano, which MissMarjoribanks had been so obliging as to close, and thought it all overwith growing excitement. No doubt it was a little puzzling to make outhow the discovery of a fine contralto, and the possibility of getting upunlimited duets, could further Lucilla in the great aim of her life,which was to be a comfort to her dear papa. But Barbara was like a youngsoldier of fortune, ready to take a great deal for granted, and swallowmuch that was mysterious in the programme of the adventurous general whomight lead her on to glory. In half an hour her dreams had gone so farthat she saw herself receiving in Miss Marjoribanks's drawing-room thehomage, not only of Grange Lane, but even of the county families, whowould be attracted by rumours of her wonderful performance; and Barbarawas, to her own consciousness, walking up the middle aisle ofCarlingford Church in a veil of real Brussels, before little Mr Lakecame in, hungry and good-tempered, from his round. To be sure, she hadnot concluded who was to be the bridegroom; but that was one of thosematters of detail which could not be precisely concluded on till thetime.
Such was the immediate result, so far as this secondary personage wasconcerned, of Lucilla's masterly impromptu; and it is needless to saythat the accomplished warrior, who had her wits always about her, andhad made, while engaged in a simple reconnaissance, so brilliant andsuccessful a capture, withdrew from the scene still more entirelysatisfied with herself. Nothing, indeed, could have come moreopportunely for Lucilla, who possessed in perfection that faculty ofthrowing herself into the future, and anticipating the difficulties of aposition, which is so valuable to all who aspire to be leaders ofmankind. With a prudence which Dr Marjoribanks himself would haveacknowledged to be remarkable "in a person of her age and sex," Lucillahad already foreseen that to amuse her guests entirely in her ownperson, would be at once impracticable and "bad style." The firstobjection might have been got over, for Miss Marjoribanks had a soulabove the ordinary limits of possibility, but the second unanswerable.This discovery, however, satisfied all the necessities of the position.Lucilla, who was liberal, as genius ought always to be, was perfectlywilling that all the young ladies in Carlingford should sing theirlittle songs while she was entertaining her guests; and then at theright moment, when her ruling mind saw it was necessary, would occur theduet--the one duet which would be the great feature of the evening. Thusit will be seen that another quality of the highest order developeditself during Miss Marjoribanks's deliberations; for, to tell the truth,she set a good deal of store by her voice, and had been used toapplause, and had tasted the sweetness of individual success. This,however, she was willing to sacrifice for the enhanced and magnificenteffect which she felt could be produced by the combination of the twovoices; and the sacrifice was one which a weaker woman would have beenincapable of making. She went home past Salem Chapel by the little lanewhich makes a line of communication between the end of Grove Street andthe beginning of Grange Lane, with a sentiment of satisfaction worthythe greatness of her mission. Dr Marjoribanks never came home to lunch,and indeed had a contempt for that feminine indulgence; which, to besure, might be accounted for by the fact that about that time in the daythe Doctor very often found himself to be passing close by one or otherof the houses in the neighbourhood which had a reputation for goodsherry or madeira, such as exists no more. Lucilla, accordingly, had herlunch alone, served to her with respectful care by Nancy, who was stillunder the impression of the interview of the morning; and it occurred toMiss Marjoribanks, as she sat at table alone, that this was anopportunity too valuable to be left unimproved; for, to be sure, thereare few things more pleasant than a little impromptu luncheon-party,where everybody comes without being expected, fresh from the outsideworld, and ready to tell all that is going on; though, on the otherhand, it was a little doubtful how it might work in Carlingford, wherethe men had generally something to do, and where the married ladies tooktheir luncheon when the children had their dinner, and presided at thenursery meal. And as for a party of young ladies, even supposing theyhad the courage to come, with no more solid admixture of the moreimportant members of society, Lucilla, to tell the truth, had noparticular taste for that. Miss Marjoribanks reflected as she ate--andindeed, thanks to her perfect health and her agreeable morning walk,Lucilla had a very pretty appetite, and enjoyed her meal in a way thatwould have been most satisfactory to her many friends--that it must beby way of making his visit, which was aggravating under allcircumstances, more aggravating still, that Tom Marjoribanks had decidedto come now, of all times in the world. "If he had waited till thingswere organised, he might have been of a little use," Lucilla said toherself; "for at least he could have brought some of the men that comeon circuit, and that would have made a little novelty; but, of course,just now it would never do to make a rush at people, and invite them allat once." After a moment's consideration, however. Miss Marjoribanks,with her usual candour, reflected that it was not in Tom Marjoribanks'spower to change the time of the Carlingford assizes, and that,accordingly, he was not to be blamed in this particular at least. "Ofcourse _it_ is not his fault," she added, to herself, "but it isastonishing how things happen with some men always at the wrong moment;and it is _so_ like Tom." These reflections were interrupted by thearrival of visitors, whom Miss Marjoribanks received with her usualgrace. The first was old Mrs Chiley, who kissed Lucilla, and wanted toknow how she had enjoyed herself on the Continent, and if she hadbrought many pretty things home. "My dear, you have grown ever so muchsince the last time I saw you," the old lady said in her grandmotherlyway, "and stout with it, which is such a comfort with a tall girl; andthen your poor dear mamma was so delicate. I have always been a littleanxious about you on that account, Lucilla; and I am so glad, my dear,to see you looking so strong."
"Dear Mrs Chiley," said Miss Marjoribanks, who perhaps in her heart wasnot quite so gratified by this compliment as the old lady intended, "thegreat aim of my life is to be a comfort to dear papa."
Mrs Chiley was very much moved by this filial piety, and she toldLucilla that story about the Colonel's niece, Susan, who was such a gooddaughter, and had refused three excellent offers, to devote herself toher father and mother, with which the public in Grange Lane weretolerably acquainted. "And one of them was a baronet, my dear," said MrsChiley. Miss Marjoribanks did not make any decided response, for shefelt that it would be dangerous to commit herself to such a height ofself-abnegation as that; but the old lady was quite pleased to hear ofher travels and adventures instead; and stayed so long that Mrs Centumand Mrs Woodburn, who happened to arrive at the same moment, found herstill there. Mrs Chiley was a little afraid of Mrs Woodburn, and shetook her leave hastily, with another kiss; and Lucilla found herselfface to face with the only two women who could attempt a rivalenterprise to her own in Carlingford. As for Mrs Woodburn, she hadsettled herself in an easy-chair by the fire, and was fully prepared totake notes. To be sure, Lucilla was the very person to fall victim toher arts; for that confidence in herself which, in one point of view,gave grandeur to the character of Miss Marjoribanks, gave her also acertain naivete and openness which the most simple rustic could not havesurpassed.
"I am sure by her face she has been telling you about my niece Susan,"said the mimic, assuming Mrs Chiley's tone, and almost her appearance,for the moment, "and that one of them was a baronet, my dear. I alwaysknow from her looks what she has been saying; and 'the Colonel was muchas usual, but suffering a little from the cold, as he always does inthis climate.' She must be a good soul, for she always has her favouritelittle speeches written in her face."
"I am sure I don't know," said Miss Marjoribanks, who felt it was herduty to make an example; "there has always been one thing remarked of meall my life, that I never have had a great sense of humour. I know it issingular, but when one has a defect, it is always so much better toconfess it. I always get on very well with anything else, but I neverhad any sense of humour, you know; and I am very fond of Mrs Chiley. Shehas always had a fancy for me from the tim
e I was born; and she has suchnice manners. But then, it is so odd I should have no sense of humour,"said Lucilla, addressing herself to Mrs Centum, who was sitting on thesofa by her. "Don't you think it is very odd?"
"I am sure it is very nice," said Mrs Centum. "I hate people that laughat everything. I don't see much to laugh at myself, I am sure, in thisdistracting world; any one who has a lot of children and servants likeme to look after, finds very little to laugh at." And she seized theopportunity to enter upon domestic circumstances. Mrs Woodburn did notanswer a word. She made a most dashing murderous sketch of Lucilla, butthat did the future ruler of Carlingford very little harm; and then, bythe evening, it was known through all Grange Lane that Miss Marjoribankshad snubbed the caricaturist who kept all the good people in terror oftheir lives. Snubbed her absolutely, and took the words out of her verymouth, was the report that flew through Grange Lane; and it may beimagined how Lucilla's prestige rose in consequence, and how much peoplebegan to expect of Miss Marjoribanks, who had performed such a featalmost on the first day of her return home.
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