Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  “Reproof, my dear? God bless my soul! I hope I said nothing that could be construed into reproof? I do assure you, Sophy, it was not my intention. Shall I have the pleasure of taking wine with you?”

  The young lady held her glass to the butler during the time necessary to pour into it the amount of one tea-spoonful, and in the goblet thus flowing drank his health. The conversation which followed was not very continuous nor very gay. Mrs. Heathcote was chiefly occupied in comparing all she saw before her to all she had formerly seen at the same table. It would have been very unreasonable to find fault with the dinner, for there was quite enough for four people — nevertheless it was evidently a dinner very cautiously ordered on principles of economy. The season was that of Lent, and it was probably for that reason that salt-fish made the first entrée. Soup there was none. A roast leg of mutton graced the bottom of the table; cabbage and potatoes made the side-dishes.

  Miss Martin Thorpe appeared to her relatives to have totally lost her appetite, for she positively ate nothing but a morsel of the apple-tart which constituted the second course. Dessert there was none; nevertheless, Mrs. Heathcote, bold in maternal love, and knowing, or at least believing, that her two little boys would miss too severely the daily indulgence of making their appearance after dinner, ventured to say, “May Frederic and Stephen come in as usual, Sophy?”

  “If it will give you pleasure, Mrs. Heathcote, I certainly shall not refuse my consent. I will only beg you to remember, that when I have company I should wish this custom to be omitted.”

  So passed the first family dinner at Thorpe-Combe, after Miss Martin Thorpe had taken possession of it.

  CHAPTER XXI.

  There were many other causes besides sweet temper, which assisted the Heathcotes in the endurance of Miss Martin Thorpe and her mansion. In the first place, the country was beautiful, and it was new; for the season at which their last visit had been made showed them but little of it, and that little under an aspect as unlike what they found it now, as youth is to age and winter to spring. The Major walked about, good man, from morning to night; and being a “disciple of the gentle Isaac,” found much delectable occupation on the banks of the pretty stream which divided the property of Temple from that of the Combe. And then, there was an interest deep and tender, which neither papas, mammas, nor young ladies will find it difficult to understand, which made the neighbouring territory, the noble old house, which belonged to it, its gardens, its woods, its very shade and sunshine, matters of pleasure and importance. Letters from Sir Charles Temple and Algernon had reached Clevelands a week or two before the Heathcote party left it, and besides furnishing most delightful matter for meditation, family discussion, and delicious hope, the packet contained a short, but excellent matter-of-fact document, addressed to the two old servants who were left in charge of Sir Charles Temple’s old house. This document directed them to furnish Major Heathcote with whatever game he chose to order; to let the house, gardens, and grounds be open to the whole of his family, at all times and seasons; and, moreover, (a clause which went very directly to the centre of Mrs. Heathcote’s heart,) that a sort of Belvedere banqueting-room, situated at the most beautiful part in the whole domain, should be swept and garnished for the express use and benefit of Messrs. Frederic and Stephen Heathcote, it being within easy reach of their sturdy little legs, if said little legs were permitted to trot for about a quarter of a mile along a path in the heiress’s shrubbery.

  Any gentleman and lady, their daughter and their two little boys, residing in so very excellent a house as that of Thorpe-Combe, must have exactly such a person as Miss Martin Thorpe for their hostess, before they will be able fully to comprehend all the pleasure which the Heathcote family derived from this old banqueting-room, the lovely walks around it, and the free admission to an excellent library, that did not belong to the mansion that they called their home. By degrees, indeed, this beautiful room became almost their only morning dwelling-place; and Miss Martin Thorpe, ensconced in the dignified retreat of her mouse-and-rose-coloured boudoir, little guessed how infinitely superior an apartment her harshly-treated guests had found. Nearly all Mrs. Heathcote’s work-boxes and work-baskets, one by one, found themselves permanent and most commodious receptacles in the banqueting-room. To the banqueting-room the Major conveyed the whole of his delicate apparatus for the manufacture of flies. To the banqueting-room every treasure over which the little boys held

  — “solely sovereign sway and masterdom,”

  was carried with feelings of delight that multiplied their value a thousand-fold. And, lastly, it was in the banqueting-room that Florence’s little writing-desk was established, at which she was beginning to pass some of her happiest hours, by complying with the earnest request contained in Sir Charles Temple’s first letter, which implored her by all the pretty adjurations in use among persons in their predicament, “to keep a regular registry of all she read and all she did.... of the walks she took, particularly when she deigned to turn her beloved footsteps towards Temple,.... and of the moments, (short of course, and far between), during which she permitted her precious thoughts to wander towards the man who adored her.”

  There are many young ladies, pretty thoroughly enamoured too, to whom this request would have brought nothing but embarrassment; but the “bringing up” of such must have been more artificial than that of Florence. What is called shyness is probably in all cases produced by the thoughts being too intently occupied by self. It is not self-love, exactly, but self-anxiety which produces it. Now Florence had no such anxiety. She had never been produced with a view to making an effect; and no thought or feeling connected with this had ever entered her head. She loved Sir Charles Temple,... oh, so much!.... And what could be so delightful as to write down for him all she thought and almost all she felt? Surely nothing!.... at least as long as he was away from her.

  But it is forestalling to dwell thus on all the enjoyment which Sir Charles Temple’s prescient attention to their comfort procured for the whole family. The events which occurred while all this was ripening into habit, must not be overlooked. The Hereford ball, the approach of which had been the ultimate signal which produced the summons to her guardian and his family, occupied the thoughts of Miss Martin Thorpe very considerably. It did not indeed prevent her giving daily attention to the quantity of bread, butter, meat, and milk, consumed by her guests, nor did she in the least degree relax her efforts to render the burden as little oppressive to her purse as possible. But, despite all this persevering attention to her domestic concerns, she was in no degree negligent in her preparations for that important epoch in her life’s history, — her first presentation before the eyes of the aristocracy of the county in which her property was situated.

  In all that concerned this important appearance, the counsels of Mr and Miss Brandenberry were of the greatest convenience and utility. Mr. Brandenberry assured her that there would be no necessity for her putting four post-horses to her coach, for that the Harrises, and the Pontefracts, and the Nevilles, and the Templetons, never came with more than a pair, though their places were all rather more distant from the scene of festivity than her own. He told her too, that he thought her coachman and footman would suffice, without encumbering her rather, heavy equipage with any other attendants; and, lastly, he relieved her from all anxiety about tickets, by putting into her hands a packet with half-a-dozen enclosed in an envelope conveying the respectful compliments of the stewards to Miss Martin Thorpe.

  But important as were all these services, they were, comparatively speaking, of nothing worth when set beside those which accident put it in the power of his sister to bestow. In one of the delightfully long morning visits which preceded this ball, the necessity for which became so urgent, that the cautious Sophia found herself actually driven by that strongest to her of all impulses, her own convenience, to lend the key of the shrubbery gate, “for a little while,” to her new friends; in one of these visits Miss Brandenberry happened to say, “It is very fo
rtunate, is it not, Richard,.... that Miss Martin Thorpe looks so particularly well in black? because, in general, deep mourning does not make a good ball-dress. But then one comfort is, that there is nothing which sets off diamonds so much. Of course, my dear Miss Martin Thorpe, you mean to wear your diamonds?”

  Miss Martin Thorpe coloured a little. “When I am of age,” aid she, “I shall consider it as a duty that I owe to myself to take care that nothing is wanting, either in my dress or equipage, which it is fitting to my station that I should have.... and some sort of jewelry will of course be necessary. But until I shall be in the unrestrained possession of my whole fortune, I do not mean to purchase diamonds, or anything else of the kind.”

  “Purchase! my dear Miss Martin Thorpe? Good Heaven, no!” exclaimed Miss Brandenberry, in reply. “Who that had the happiness of possessing such diamonds as you have, would ever think of baying more?”

  Miss Martin Thorpe stared, and now coloured a good deal; but for some minutes remained profoundly silent, which was perfectly natural, considering the variety of thoughts that rushed upon her, and which it was absolutely necessary she should in some degree digest before she ventured to speak again.

  Was it possible that diamonds really and truly made part of the treasure bequeathed to her by her ever-to-be-lamented uncle, although she had never yet seen or heard of them? Was it possible that the dear precious gems could have been surreptitiously removed by any one?.... The lawyer?.... Major Heathcote?.... Sir Charles Temple?.... God knows!.... and poor Miss Martin Thorpe felt the painful truth at the very bottom of her heart... God knows that it is impossible even to guess who may and who may not be trusted!

  As to opening these harassing doubts to her attached friends, Mr and Miss Brandenberry, it was wholly out of the question. Should she confess to them that she, with all the extraordinary ability for which they had repeatedly owned with the most unaffected candour, that they gave her credit, should she confess to them that she actually did not know whether she inherited any diamonds or not? It was not to be thought of!.... She was still silently struggling with these most embarrassing meditations, when it suddenly occurred to her that Mr.Westley, when he delivered to her keeping, by the direction of her two guardians, the various keys which had been placed in his hands by the careful Mrs. Barnes, had said, “These, madam, I presume, are the keys of all such repositories as contain valuables. Whatever they are, — of which I know nothing, — your guardians have authorised me to deliver them into your hands.”

  On receiving these keys, Sophia well remembered having shut herself up alone in what had been her uncle’s bed-room, and applied them to the locks of several inlaid old cabinets, which they readily unlocked; but finding nothing but a parcel of letters which appeared to her mere lumber, she closed those she had opened, and without troubling herself, at that very busy moment, to examine the others, she ordered them to be all carefully removed together into a lumber room, while the alterations upon which her thoughts were so anxiously engaged, went on.

  If there were indeed any diamonds, she felt confident they must be in one of these unexplored cabinets, now restored, as very precious ornaments, to her elegant boudoir; and there they stood, exactly opposite to her, while she waited with burning impatience for the departure of her friends. But it seemed to her as if they had taken root in the seats they occupied. It was in vain that, after waving the discussion upon diamonds, by saying that old-fashioned settings were only fit for old-fashioned people, it was in vain that she looked graver, and graver, and graver. It was in vain that she made short answers, or no answers at all, to all the lively and affectionate speeches they made. The crosser she looked, the more passionately did they seem to admire her, and the more impossible did it appear that they could tear themselves away; till at length she suddenly rose, and with most unwonted vivacity declared that she longed so excessively for a walk that she was determined to accompany them for a short way on their road home, through the shrubberies, Great, of course, was the delight expressed by the brother and sister at hearing this flattering, this delightful proposal; and away they went, Mr and Miss Brandenberry exhausting the English language to find words sufficiently strong to express their happiness, and the hapless Sophia forcing herself to endure all the sickness of hope delayed, till she thought she had marched them off far enough to prevent any danger of their proposing to return. When she had reached this point, she stopped short and said, “Now, good-b’ye.” Upon which Miss Brandenberry said, Oh heavens, my dearest, dearest Miss Marlin Thorpe! it is absolutely impossible that you should think of venturing back alone. Richard, of course...”

  “No. I am VERY much obliged to you; but I really am not in the least afraid, to-day. Good morning, good morning! I shall be very glad to see you again to-morrow if you happen to be in the humour for a walk. Good-b’ye!” and Miss Martin Thorpe separated herself from them by three backward steps.

  “If the earth were this moment to open before me, and yawn in a bottomless gulph at my feet,” exclaimed Mr. Brandenberry, “I would spring across it, though sure of sinking to everlasting night, rather than see you prepare to wander through these solitudes alone!”

  “Oh dear me!” said poor Miss Martin Thorpe, touched a little, certainly, by his vehement eloquence, yet still sick for an uninterrupted examination of her cabinets,— “Oh dear me! Mr. Brandenberry! no danger whatever can happen to me in my own woods!”

  “Gracious Heaven!.... You know not what you say! Dearest.... Forgive me, kindest Miss Martin Thorpe! Let me, I implore you, judge for you in this. You know not.... Oh! you cannot know. There ARE dangers. Oh! heavens!.... For such as you, there are dangers that innocence like yours can never dream of!.... I cannot let you go home alone. Margaret! you are within reach of our own gates, on quitting the shrubbery,” and so saying he darted after the retreating heiress, too much occupied in the construction of energetic, and as some might think, even passionate phrases, to perceive how very nearly his charming companion appeared to approach the condition of the deaf and dumb.

  Bat although too much pre-occupied to be any longer capable of either speaking or hearing, Miss Martin Thorpe was not a young lady to be put aside from having her own way by the ardour of any admirer upon earth. Had it been her will and pleasure to get rid of Mr and Miss Brandenberry by a shorter process than walking them off the premises in the manner she had done, she would have done it; and now that she began to suspect that Mr. Brandenberry intended to contrive a tête-à-tête in her boudoir, she was as resolutely determined that he should not enter there, as if she had greatly disliked, instead of very nearly liking, his insinuating advances. But love-making was one thing, and diamond-seeking another; and no one living could feel the difference more strongly than Miss Martin Thorpe.

  “Now I must wish you good morning in good earnest,” said Sophia, planting herself with her back towards a side-door that opened upon the lawn which divided the house from the shrubberies.

  “It must be so?”.... said he, looking plaintively in her firmly set little brown face.

  “Good morning, Mr. Brandenberry,” she returned; “I shall be glad to see you again to-morrow.”

  “May angels hover near and have you in their keeping!” he exclaimed. “But oh!.... For Heaven’s sake, let me unlatch that door! Are fingers such as those, made for such iron work?”.... And he seized the short little hand which had taken hold of the latch, and removed it. But not so did he move her resolution; no! not though he pressed the little hand, considerably harder than ever he pressed it before. Without affecting at all more disinclination to have her hand detained than at that moment she really felt, she jerked it out of his fingers in a way that left no doubt upon his mind as to its being advisable that he should let it alone for the present; so making a virtue of necessity, he let her pass, muttering just audibly, “sweet tyrant!” and then pronouncing aloud “farewell! farewell!” he bounded from her across the lawn with the agility of a youth of eighteen.

  CHAPTER XXII.

/>   It was with no slow step that the heiress mounted the stairs to her sacred boudoir, and with no slow hand that she prepared to explore the contents of the yet unexamined cabinets. They were opened successively, and apparently in vain, for drawer after drawer presented nothing to her but multitudes of letters; among which were a few valueless trifles, which looked like memoranda of treasured affection, but in no way resembling the dearer objects which she sought. But the heart of the fair Sophia was not doomed on this occasion to beat for nothing; neither was the word of Margaret Brandenberry to be accounted vain, false, and of no account. In one of the indescribable ins and outs of the largest of these Eastern miniature temples of mystery, the eager fingers of Miss Martin Thorpe detected the fact that there was a species of springy yielding in one part of the tortoise-shell labyrinth, which could only be explained by supposing that it might be removed if she could but have wit to find how.

  People talk of the eagerness with which drowning men catch at straws; but any one who had watched the features and the fingers of the heiress, as she patted, pushed, pulled, and shook the envious pass, which, as she believed, hid from her all she most longed to see, would have acknowledged that life was not the only treasure capable of making a human soul quiver in its “fleshy nook.” But description must cease when the moment arrived at which her trembling labours at length proved successful; for who can paint the joy of such a spirit as that which animated the gloating eyes of Sophia Martin Thorpe, as, for the first time of her life, she strained them open to behold diamonds... that were her own?

  She knew perfectly well that she had locked the door of the room, and that no human eye could share with her own the glory of that eight, unless that door was broken open, or the chimney or the windows invaded... Yet she could not be contented, till she had crept with stealthy step to see that all indeed was safe, and that her deep ecstasy might be indulged without danger that any envious eye should watch it.