‘Poor Juliana!’ said Phœbe, saddened by her own sense that the difficulties of her present position were lessened by the removal of this sister. ‘And little Elizabeth?’
‘She is a nice little thing, and her father hardly lets her out of his sight. I have sometimes speculated whether he might not ask you to keep house for him, but last time I saw him, I fancied that he was inclined to hold aloof from you.’
‘I had rather he did not ask us,’ said Phœbe.
‘Why so?’
‘Because I am afraid Bertha would not look up to him if she lived with him,’ said Phœbe.
Robert smiled, having himself become conscious of that weakness in his good brother-in-law which Phœbe felt, but did not name.
‘And now, Phœbe,’ said Robert, suddenly changing the subject, ‘I have something for you to do; I want you to call on Miss Sandbrook.’
On her astonished look, he explained that he had made it his business frequently to see Owen Sandbrook’s child, and of late to give it some religious teaching. While thus engaged, he had been surprised by the entrance of Lucilla, looking wretchedly ill and exhausted, and though she had rallied her spirits after the first moment, talked of having come up from Essex for a day’s holiday of shopping and seeing her nephew, and had inquired eagerly and warmly for Miss Charlecote, he had been sufficiently uneasy about her to go afterwards to Mrs. Murrell, from whom he had learnt that she had avowed having consulted a physician in the morning, and had procured her address.
‘And now,’ said Robert, ‘I want you, with whom she has never quarrelled, to call on her as an old friend just come into her neighbourhood, and find out what was the doctor’s opinion. I am sure she is destroying herself.’
The whole was said with perfect simplicity, without shrinking from Phœbe’s eye, as though he had absolutely forgotten what sentiments he had once entertained; and Phœbe could, neither in kindness nor humanity, refuse to be the means of reopening communication with the voluntary exile. She proposed to write and offer a call, but Robert, fearing to rouse the old perverse pride, recommended that there should be no preparation. Indeed, the chances of an independent expedition seemed likely to be scanty, for Lady Bannerman pounced on her sister as a truant bond-slave, who, when captured, was to be useful all day, and go to parties all night.