The Widow Barnaby Volume I Part 13

Within a week after this unfortunate interview, all Mrs. Barnaby's earthly possessions, excepting her money, were deposited in the waggon that travelled between Silverton and Exeter; and the day afterwards herself, her niece, and her maid, whom she had surnamed Jerningham, (the two former in the coach, and the latter on the top of it,) set forth on their way to that fair and ancient city of the west.

Before we follow them thither, we must stop for a moment to bid a long adieu to poor Miss Compton. Unfortunately for her temper, as well as her limbs, farmer Wright did not over-take her till within a few yards of their home; and the agitation and fatigue, both equally unusual to her, so completely overpowered her strength and spirits, that having taken to her bed as soon as she reached her room, she remained in it for above a fortnight, being really feverish and unwell, but believing herself very much worse than she really was. During the whole of this time, and indeed for several months afterwards, she never attempted to separate the innocent image of Agnes from the offensive one of Mrs. Barnaby. The caress which the poor girl had offered with such true tenderness and sympathy, was the only distinct idea respecting her that remained on the mind of Miss Compton; and this suggested no feeling but that of indignation, from the conviction that Mrs. Barnaby's "dear love," not a whit less detestable, was only more artful than herself; or that, not yet being in possession of the wealth of which her hateful protectress boasted, she deemed it prudent to aim at obtaining whatever she herself might have to bestow.

Notwithstanding all these disagreeable imaginings, however, the old lady gradually recovered both her health and her usual tranquil equality of spirits, sometimes even persuading herself that she was very glad she had not been seduced, by the appearance of Agnes, to sacrifice her own comfort for the advantage of an artful girl, who was, after all, quite as much the grand-daughter of a Wisett as of a Compton.

Never during the prosperous years that Mrs. Barnaby had been the mistress of her comfortable house at Silverton, (excepting, perhaps, for the delightful interval while she was treated throughout the town as a bride,) did she feel half so grand or so happy a personage as now that she had no house at all. There was an elegance and freedom, which she never felt conscious of before, in thus setting off upon her travels with what she believed to be an ample purse, of which she was the uncontrolled mistress, a beautiful niece to chaperone, and a lady's-maid to wait upon her; and had Agnes, who sat opposite to her, been less earnestly occupied in recalling all the circ.u.mstances of her last strange interview with her aunt Compton, she must have observed and been greatly puzzled by the series of (perhaps) involuntary grimaces which accompanied Mrs. Barnaby's mental review of her own situation.

"A rich and handsome widow!... Could fate have possibly placed her in any situation she should have liked so well?" This was the question she silently asked herself, and cordially did her heart answer "No."

As these thoughts worked in her mind her dark, well-marked eyebrows raised themselves, her eyes flashed, and her lips curled into a triumphant smile.

The person who occupied the transverse corner to herself was a handsome young man, who had joined the Silverton coach, from the mansion of a gentleman in the neighbourhood, to which, however, he was himself quite a stranger; and having in vain tried to get sight of the features concealed by the long c.r.a.pe veil beside him, he took to watching those no way concealed by the short c.r.a.pe veil opposite.

"Mother and daughter, of course," thought he. "A young specimen, without rouge or moustache, would not be amiss."

Mrs. Barnaby perceived he was looking at her, and settled her features into dignified but not austere harmony.

"It is very pleasant travelling this morning, ma'am," said the young man.

"As pleasant as a stage-coach can be, I imagine; ... but I am so little accustomed to the sort of thing that I am not a very good judge. Do you know, sir, where the coach stops for dinner?"

"I cannot say I do; I never travelled this road before."

"Then you are not a resident in the neighbourhood?"

"No, ma'am, quite a bird of pa.s.sage. It is the first time I have ever been in Devons.h.i.+re. It seems to be a beautiful county indeed."

"Very!"... Mrs. Barnaby heartily hoped that no comparisons would follow, as it was not at all her intention to confess, either on the present or any future occasion, that she had never seen any other; and she therefore rather abruptly changed the conversation by adding, "Do you know, sir, whether there are many outside pa.s.sengers?... I hope my maid will not be annoyed in any way.... It is the first time I ever put her outside a coach!"

"Poor woman!" thought the young man--"lost her husband, and her money with him, I suppose. I must contrive to look at this tall, slender girl, though."

But Agnes seemed little disposed to give him any opportunity of doing so, for she continued to keep her eyes fixed on the scene without, thus very nearly turning her back on her curious neighbour.

Mrs. Barnaby's first act of active chaperons.h.i.+p was a very obliging one; she perceived the young man's object, and not having the slightest inclination to conceal the beauty of Agnes, which she held to be one of the many advantages with which she was herself surrounded, she said,--

"My dear Agnes, do look at that pretty cottage; it is a perfect picture of rural felicity!"

Agnes obeyed the words, and followed with her eyes the finger that pointed through the opposite window, thus indulging her neighbour with a full view of her exquisite profile. The effect was by no means what Mrs.

Barnaby expected; the young man looked, and instead of being led by what he saw into talkative civility, he became very respectfully silent. But respectful silence was not an offering to which Mrs. Barnaby in the most brilliant season of her beauty had ever been accustomed; it puzzled her, till a thought struck her which is worth recording, because it very greatly influenced her conduct and feelings for a long time afterwards.

This gentleman, whose attentions for the journey she greatly wished to conciliate, had addressed her in the easy style by which "fast" young men are apt to believe they can propitiate the favour of every woman somewhat under fifty years of age, and somewhat, too, beneath themselves in condition. Our traveller had no fear of blundering when he settled that Mrs. Barnaby belonged to this cla.s.s; but the instant he caught a glimpse of the countenance of Agnes, he became equally sure that she at least belonged to a higher one. It was not wonderful that poor Miss Compton doubted, when she looked at her, the possibility of her being a descendant of the buxom Martha Wisett, for, excepting something in the form and soft l.u.s.tre of her dark-brown eyes, her features bore no resemblance to her mother, or her mother's family, but a most decided one to that of her father, who, though a very foolish, hot-headed lieutenant, when we made his acquaintance, was descended from a race of aristocratic ancestors, rather remarkable for their n.o.ble and regular cast of features, which appeared indeed to be their least alienable birthright.

The traveller, though a young man, had lived sufficiently in the world to have learned at least the alphabet of character as written on the countenances of those he met, and he spelt gentlewoman so plainly on that of Agnes, that he felt no more right to address her without introduction than he would have done had the stage-coach been an opera-box.

"That's very odd," ... thought Mrs. Barnaby. "She certainly is a most beautiful creature ... quite as handsome as I was even in poor dear Tate's days, and yet the moment he got a sight of her, his pleasant, gay manner, changed all at once, and he now looks as glum as a boy at school.... Though she is my niece, she is not like me; that's certain, ... and who knows but that many men may still prefer my style to hers?... As to this one, at least, it is impossible to doubt it, and it will be great folly in me to set out with a fancy that my face and figure, especially when I get back to dress again, will not stand a comparison with hers. For some years, at any rate, in justice to myself, I will keep this in mind; and not take it for granted that every glance directed towards us is for the child, and not for the woman."

This agreeable idea seemed all that was wanting to make the journey perfectly delicious, and not even the continued reserve of the young man could affect in any great degree the charming harmony of her spirits. We hear much of the beautiful freshness of hope in young hearts just about to make their first trial of the joys of life; but it is quite a mistake to suppose that any such feeling can equal the fearless, confident, triumphant mastery and command of future enjoyment, which dilates the heart, in the case of such an out-coming widow as Mrs. Barnaby.

The Silverton coach set its pa.s.sengers down at Street's hotel, in the Church-yard; and my heroine, who now for the first time in her life found herself at an inn, with the power of ordering what she chose, determined to enjoy the two-fold gratification of pa.s.sing for a lady of great fas.h.i.+on and fortune, and of taking especial care of her creature-comforts into the bargain.

"Do you want rooms, ma'am?" said the head of a waiter, suddenly placing itself among the insides.

"Yes, young man, I want the best rooms in the house.... Where is my maid?--Let her be ready to attend me as soon as I get out. We have nothing with us but three trunks, one square box, one hat-box, two carpet-bags, and my dressing-case. Let everything be conveyed to my apartments. Now open the door, and let me get out.... Follow me, Agnes.... You will come, if you please, without delay, young man, to receive my orders respecting refreshments."

Two lighted candles were s.n.a.t.c.hed up as they pa.s.sed the bar, and Mrs.

Barnaby proceeded up the stairs in state, the waiter and his candles before, Agnes and "_my maid_" behind.

"This room is extremely dark and disagreeable.... Pray, send the master of the house to me; I wish to give my orders to him."

"My master is not at home, ma'am."

"Not at home?... Extremely negligent, I must say. Perhaps it will be better for me to proceed to some other hotel, where I may be able to see the head of the establishment. I have not been accustomed to be treated with anything like neglect ... people of my condition, indeed, seldom are."

"If you will be pleased, my lady, to give your orders to me," said the waiter very respectfully, "you shall find nothing wanting that belongs to a first-rate house."

"Then, pray, send my maid to me.... Oh! there you are, Jerningham."

"Yes, ma'am," answered the gawky soubrette, tucking back the veil with which Mrs. Barnaby had adorned one of her own bonnets, and staring at the draperied windows, and all the other fine things which met her eyes.

"You will see, Jerningham, that my sleeping apartment is endurable."

Now Betty Jacks, though careless and idle, was by no means a stupid girl; but she was but fifteen years old, and her experiences not having hitherto been upon a very extended scale, she found herself at a loss to understand what her new mistress meant, about nine times out of every ten that she spoke to her. On receiving the order above mentioned, she meditated for an instant upon what an "endurable sleeping apartment"

might be; but the sagacity which failed to discover this, sufficed to suggest the advantage of not confessing her ignorance; and she answered boldly, "Yes, sure, ma'am."

"Go, then," said the lady, languidly throwing her person upon a sofa; and then turning to the waiter, who still remained with the door in his hand, she p.r.o.nounced with impressive emphasis,--

"Let there be tea, sugar, and cream brought, with b.u.t.tered toast, and m.u.f.fins also, if it be possible.... Agnes, my love, I am afraid there is hardly room for you on the sofa; but sit down, dear, and try to make yourself comfortable on a chair."

The two ladies were now left to themselves, Betty Jacks joyfully accompanying the smart young waiter to the regions below. "And who may be your missus, my dear?" he said, giving her an encouraging chuck under the chin; "she can't have much to do, I'm thinking, with any of the county families, for they bean't much given to stage-coaches, and never without their own gentlemen to guard 'em.... Is she a real grand lady, or only a strutting make-believe?"

Betty, thinking it much more for her own credit to serve a real grand lady than a make-believe, readily answered.

"To be sure, she is a real grand lady, Mr. Imperdence.... We comes up along from Silverton, and she's one of the finest ladies in the town."

"_In_ the town," repeated the knowing waiter significantly.... "I understand.... Well, she shall have some tea; .... And now, my girl, you had better go and do what she bid you."

"Well now, if I hav'n't downright forgot already!" said the unblus.h.i.+ng Betty. "Will you tell me what it was then?"

"How old are you, my dear?" was the unsatisfactory reply.

"And pray what's that to you?... But come now, do tell me, w.i.l.l.y', what was it missus told me to do?"

"To go see after her bed, my dear, and all that, and unpack her nightcap, I suppose."

"Well, then, give me a candle,--that's a good man.... But where is her bed, though?"

"You bean't quite hatched yet, my gay maypole, but you'll do well enough some of these day.... Here, Susan! shew this young waiting-maid a bed-room for two ladies--and one for yourself too, I suppose, my dear. I shouldn't wonder, Susan, if it was possible the grand lady up stairs may pay less than a d.u.c.h.ess; but take my word for it she'll blow you sky high, if you don't serve her as if you thought she was one."