And while Mrs. Charteris, scarcely rising, held out her ring encrusted fingers, and murmured a greeting, Ratia settled them all, pushed a chair behind Miss Charlecote, almost threw Phœbe on a cushion, handed tea, scolded Owen, and rattled away to Lucilla with an impetus that kept Phœbe in increased wonder. It was all about the arrangements for the morrow, full of the utmost good-nature and desire to secure every one’s pleasure, but all discussed in a broad out-spoken way, with a liberal use of slang phrases, and of unprefaced surnames, a freedom of manner and jovial carelessness of voice that specially marked Rashe Charteris at home.
Phœbe had a good deal of opportunity for these observations, for as soon as her stream of information was exhausted, Rashe jumped up and insisted on conducting the guests round the hothouses and pleasure-grounds. She knew Miss Charlecote was a famous hand at such things. Lucilla remained on the grass, softly teasing Lolly about the exertions of the morrow, and Owen applying himself to the care of Honor, Rashe took possession of Phœbe with all the tyrannous good-nature that had in baby days rendered her hateful to Lucilla. She showed off the parrots and gold fish as to a child, she teased the sensitive plant, and explained curiosities down to the level of the youthful intellect; and Phœbe, scientific enough to know if she went wrong in botany or locality, began a word or two of modest suggestion, only to be patronizingly enlightened, and stopped short, in the fear of pedantry. Phœbe had yet to learn the ignorance of the world.
At last, with a huge torrent of explanations and excuses, Ratia consigned the two guests to share the same bedroom and dressing-room. The number of gentlemen visitors had necessitated close packing, and Cilly, she said, had come to sleep in her room. Another hope had failed! But at the moment when the door was shut, Phœbe could only sink into a chair, untie her bonnet, and fan herself. Such oppressive good-nature was more fatiguing than a ten miles’ walk, or than the toughest lesson in political economy.
‘If nature have her own ladies,’ was Honora’s comment on her young friend’s exhaustion, ‘she likewise has her own dairy-maids!’
‘Miss Charteris is a lady,’ said Phœbe, her sense of the intended kindness of her hostess calling her to speak in vindication.
‘Yes,’ said Honor, hesitating; ‘it is station that emboldens her. If she had been a dairy-maid, she would have been a bouncing rude girl; if a farmer’s daughter, she would be hearty and useful; if one of the boasters of gentility, she would think it worth while to restrain herself; as she is, her acknowledged birth and breeding enable her to follow her inclinations without fear of opinion.’
‘I thought refinement was one great characteristic of a lady,’ said Phœbe.
‘So it is, but affectation and false shame are the contrary.
Refinement was rather overworked, and there has been a reaction of late; simplicity and unconstraint have been the fashion, but unfortunately some dispositions are not made to be unconstrained.’
‘Lucy is just as unrestrained as her cousin,’ said Phœbe, ‘but she never seems like her. She offends one’s judgment sometimes, but never one’s taste—at least hardly ever;’ and Phœbe blushed as she thought of what had passed about her sister that day.