Here was playing into the governess’s hands! Mindful of Juliana’s injunctions, Lady Bannerman announced her intention of calling heaven and earth together rather than sanction the impropriety, and set off for her party at the sheriff’s in a mood which made Phœbe tremble lest the attractions of ortolans and Burgundy should instigate the ‘tremendous sacrifice’ of becoming chaperon.
Mervyn thought the doctor’s sentence conclusive as to Miss Fennimore’s plans, but to his consternation it made no change
in them, except that she fixed the departure of the family as the moment of parting. Though her manner towards him had become open and friendly, she was deaf to all that he could urge, declaring that it was her duty to leave his sisters, and that the change, when once made, would be beneficial to Bertha, by removing old associations. In despair, he came to Miss Charlecote, begging her to try her powers of persuasion for the sake of poor Bertha, now his primary object, whom he treated with spoiling affection. He was quite powerless to withstand any fancy of Bertha in her present state, and not only helpless without Miss Fennimore, but having become so far used to her that for his own sake he could not endure the notion of a substitute. ‘Find out the objection,’ he said, ‘that at least I may know whether to punch Augusta’s head.’
Honora gratified him by seeking an interview with the governess, though not clear herself as to the right course, and believing that her advice, had she any to give, would go for very little with the learned governess. Miss Fennimore was soft and sad, but decided, and begging to be spared useless arguments. Whether Lady Bannerman had insulted her by hinting her suspicions, Honor could not divine, for she was firmly entrenched within her previous motive, namely, that it would be wrong to remain in a family where first her system, and then her want of vigilance, had produced such results. And to the representation that for her own sake the present conjuncture was the worst in which she could depart, she replied that it mattered not, since she saw her own deficiencies too plainly ever to undertake again the charge of young ladies, and only intended to find employment as a teacher in a school.
‘Say no more,’ she entreated; ‘and above all do not let Phœbe persuade me,’ and there were tears on either cheek.
‘Indeed, I believe her not having done so is a most unselfish act of deference to your judgment.’
‘I know it for a sign of true affection! You, who know what she is, can guess what it costs me to leave her above all, now that I am one in faith with her, and could talk to her more openly than I ever dared to do; she whose example first showed me that faith is a living substance! Yes, Miss Charlecote, I am to be received into the Church at St. Wulstan’s, where I shall be staying, as soon as I have left Beauchamp.’
Overcome with feeling, Honora hastily rose and kissed the governess’s forehead, her tears choking her utterance. ‘But—but,’ she presently said, ‘that removes all possible doubt. Does not Robert say so?’
‘He does,’ said Miss Fennimore; ‘but I cannot think so. After having miserably infused my own temper of rationalism, how could I, as a novice and learner, fitly train that poor child? Besides, others of the family justly complain of me, and I will not be forced on them. No, nor let my newly-won blessing be alloyed by bringing me any present advantage.’
‘I honour you—I agree with you,’ said Miss Charlecote, sadly; ‘but it makes me the more sorry for those poor girls. I do not see what is to be done! A stranger will be worse than no one to both the invalids; Lieschen has neither head nor nerve; and though I do not believe Phœbe will ever give way, Bertha behaves very ill to her, and the strain of anxiety may be too much for such a mere girl, barely twenty! She may suffer for it afterwards, if not at the time.’