The Young Step-Mother; Or, A Chronicle of Mistakes. Yonge Charlotte Mary
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you will give up the book,’ she said.
‘O dear! if you would let me see whether d’Artagnan got to England. I must know that! I’m sure there can’t be any harm in that. Do you know what it is about?’
‘Yes, I do. My brother got it by some mistake among some French books. He read some of the droll unobjectionable parts to my sister and me, but the rest was so bad, that he threw it into the fire.’
‘Then you think it funny?’
‘To be sure I do.’
‘Do you remember the three duels all at once, and the three valets? Oh! what fun it is. But do let me see if d’Artagnan got the diamonds.’
‘Yes, he did. But will this satisfy you, Gilbert? You know there are some exciting pleasures that we must turn our backs on resolutely. I think this book is one of them. Now you will let me take it? I will tell your father about it in private, and he cannot blame you. Then, if he will give his consent, whenever you can come home early, come to my dressing-room, out of your sisters’ way, and I will read to you the innocent part, so as to get the story out of your brain.’
‘Very well,’ said Gilbert, slowly. ‘Yes, if you will not let papa be angry with me. And, oh dear! must you go?’
‘I think you had better dress yourself and come down to tea. There is nothing the matter with you now, is there?’
He was delighted with the suggestion, and promised to come directly; and Albinia carried off her prize, exceedingly hopeful and puzzled, and wondering whether her compromise had been a right one, or a mere tampering with temptation—delighted with the confidence and affection bestowed on her so freely, but awe-struck by the impression which the boy had avowed, and marvelling how it should be treated, so as to render it a blessed and salutary restraint, rather than the dim superstitious terror that it was at present. At least there was hope of influencing him, his heart was affectionate, his will on the side of right, and in consideration of feeble health and timid character, she would overlook the fact that he had not made one voluntary open confession, and that the partial renunciation had been wrung from him as a choice of evils. She could only feel how much he was to be pitied, and how he responded to her affection.
She was crossing the hall next day, when she heard a confusion of tongues through the open door of the dining-room, and above all, Gilbert’s. ‘Well, I say there are but two ladies in Bayford. One is Mrs. Kendal, and the other is Genevieve Durant!’
‘A dancing-master’s daughter!’ Lucy’s scornful tone was unmistakeable, and so was the ensuing high-pitched querulous voice, ‘Well, to be sure, Gilbert might be a little more—a little more civil. Not that I’ve a word to say against—against your—your mamma. Oh, no!—glad to see—but Gilbert might be more civil.’
‘I think so indeed,’ said Albinia. ‘Good morning, Miss Meadows. You see Gilbert has come home quite alive enough for mischief.’
‘Ah! I thought I might be excused. Mamma was so uneasy—though I know you don’t admit visitors—my just coming to see—We’ve been always so anxious about Gilbert. Gibbie dear, where is that flannel I gave you for your throat?’
She advanced to put her finger within his neck-tie and feel for it. Gilbert stuck his chin down, and snapped with his teeth like a gin. Lucy exclaimed, ‘Now, Gilbert, I know mamma will say that is wrong.’
‘Ah! we are used to Gilbert’s tricks. Always bear with a boy’s antics,’ said Miss Meadows, preventing whatever she thought was coming out of Mrs. Kendal’s month. Albinia took the unwise step of laughing, for her sympathies were decidedly with resistance both to flannels and to the insertion of that hooked finger.
‘Mr. Bowles has always said it was a case for great care. Flannel next the skin—no exposure,’ continued Miss Meadows, tartly. ‘I am sure—I know I am the last person to wish to interfere—but so delicate—You’ll excuse—but my mother was uneasy; and people who go out in all weathers—’
‘I hope Mrs. Meadows had my note this morning.’
‘O yes! I am perfectly aware. Thank you. Yes, I know the rule, but you’ll excuse—My mother was still anxious—I know you exclude visitors in lesson-time. I’m going. Only grandmamma would be glad—not that she wishes to interfere—but if Gilbert had on his piece of flannel—’
‘Have you, Gilbert?’ said Albinia, becoming tormented.
‘I have been flannel all over all my life,’ said Gilbert, sulkily, ‘one bit more or less can make no odds.’
‘Then you have not that piece? said Albinia.
‘Oh, my dear! Think of that! New Saxony! I begged it of Mr. Holland. A new remnant—pink list, and all! I said it was just what I wanted for Master Gilbert. Mr. Holland is always a civil, feeling man. New Saxony—three shillings the yard—and trimmed with blue sarsenet! Where is it, Gilbert?’
‘In a soup dish, with a crop of mustard and cress on it,’ said Gilbert, with a wicked wink at Albinia, who was unable to resist joining in the girls’ shout of laughing, but she became alarmed when she found that poor Miss Meadows was very near crying, and that her incoherency became so lachrymose as to be utterly incomprehensible.
Lucy, ashamed of her laughter, solemnly declared that it was very wrong of Gilbert, and she hoped he would not suffer from it, and Albinia, trying to become grave, judicial, and conciliatory, contrived to pronounce that it was very silly to leave anything off in an east wind, and hoping to put an end to the matter, asked Aunt Maria to sit down, and judge how they went on with their lessons.
O no, she could not interrupt. Her mother would want her. She knew Mrs. Kendal never admitted visitors. She had no doubt she was quite right. She hoped it would be understood. She would not intrude. In fact, she could neither go nor stay. She would not resume her seat, nor let anything go on, and it was full twenty minutes before a series of little vibrating motions and fragmentary phrases had borne her out of the house.
‘Well!’ cried Gilbert, ‘I hoped Aunt Maria had left off coming down upon us.’
‘O, mamma!’ exclaimed Lucy, ‘you never sent your love to grandmamma.’
‘Depend upon it she was waiting for that,’ said Gilbert.
I’m sure I wish I had known it,’ said Albinia, not in the most judicious manner. ‘Half-past eleven!’
‘Aunt Maria says she can’t think how you can find time for church when you can’t see visitors in the morning,’ said Lucy. ‘And oh! dear mamma, grandmamma says gravy soup was enough to throw Gilbert into a fever.’
‘At any rate, it did not,’ said Albinia.
‘Oh! and, dear mamma, Mrs. Osborn is so hurt that you called on Mrs. Dusautoy before returning her visit; and Aunt Maria says if you don’t call to-day you will never get over it, and she says that—’
‘What business has Mrs. Osborn to ask whom I called on?’ exclaimed Albinia, impatiently.
‘Because Mrs. Osborn is the leading lady in the town,’ said Lucy. ‘She told Miss Goldsmith that she had no notion of not being respected.’
‘And she can’t bear the Dusautoys. She left off subscribing to anything when they came; and he behaved very ill to the Admiral and everybody at a vestry-meeting.’
‘I shall ask your papa before I am in any hurry to call on the Osborns!’ cried Albinia. ‘I have no desire to be intimate with people who treat their clergyman in that way.’
‘But Mrs. Osborn is quite the leader!’ exclaimed Lucy. They keep the best society here. So many families in the county come and call on them.’
‘Very likely—’
‘Ah! Mrs. Osborn told Aunt Maria that as the Nugents called on you, and you had such connexions, she supposed you would be high. But you wont make me separate from Lizzie, will you? I suppose Miss Nugent is a fashionable young lady.’
‘Miss Nugent is five years old. Don’t let us have any more of this nonsense.’
‘But