‘I must try to be put in the right way, Bertha, that is all I want.’
‘And you are going to the Holt for the most precise, narrow-minded way you can get. I wish I were in your place, Phœbe.’
Scarcely had Phœbe driven from the door, before she saw Miss Charlecote crossing the grass on foot, and after the interchange of a few words, it was agreed to talk while driving on towards Elverslope. Each was laden with the same subject, for not only had Honor heard from Robert, but during her visit to Moorcroft she had become enlightened on the gossip that seldom reached the Holt, and had learnt that the whole neighbourhood was scandalized at the Beauchamp doings, and was therefore shy of taking notice of the young people there. She had been incredulous at first, then extremely shocked and distressed, and though in part convinced that more than she guessed had passed beyond the west wing, she had come primed with a representation which she cautiously administered to Phœbe. The girl was more indignant on her brother’s account than alarmed on her own.
‘If that is the way the Raymonds talk of Mervyn,’ cried she, ‘no wonder they made their niece cast him off, and drive him to despair.’
‘It was no unkindness of the Raymonds, my dear. They were only sorry for you.’
‘I do not want them to be sorry for me; they ought to be sorry for Mervyn,’ said Phœbe, almost petulantly.
‘Perhaps they are,’ said Honor. ‘It was only in kindness that they spoke, and they had almost anticipated my explanation that you were kept entirely apart. Every gentleman hereabouts who has been at Beauchamp has declared such to be the case.’
‘I should think so!’ said Phœbe; ‘Mervyn knows how to take care of us better than that!’
‘But all ladies do not seem willing to believe as much, shame on them,’ said Honor; ‘and, tell me, Phœbe, have people called on you?’
‘Not many, but I have not called on them since they left their cards of inquiry. I had been thinking whether I ought.’