Without a word, she beheld the green space of park, scattered with groups of glowing trees, the elms spangled with gold, the maples blushing themselves away, the parterre a gorgeous patchwork of scarlet, lilac, and orange, the Virginian creeper
hanging a crimson mantle on the cloister. There was something inexpressibly painful in the sight of all this beauty, unheeded and cast away by the owners, and displayed as a matter of bargain and sale. Phœbe thought of the strange, uncomfortable dream that it had been to her when she had before looked and wondered at the scene before her. She retraced Robert’s restless form in every window, and thought how little she had then augured the fruit of what he had suffered.
The rooms were opened, and set out for inspection. Honor and Phœbe made it their duty to occupy the chattering maid, a stranger to Lucilla, and leave her free to move through the apartments, silent and very white, as if it were a sacred duty to stand wherever she had stood, to gaze at whatever her eyes had once met.
Presently she stood still, in the dining-room, her hand grasping the back of a chair, as she looked up to a large picture of three children, two boys and a girl, fancifully dressed, and playing with flowers. The waxen complexion, fair hair, and blue eyes of the girl were almost her own.
‘This to be sold?’ she said, turning round, and speaking for the first time.
‘O yes, ma’am!—everything, unreservedly. That picture has been much admired—by the late Sir Thomas Lawrence, ma’am—the children of the late General Sir Christopher Charteris.’
Lucilla, whiter than before, walked quickly away. In a few seconds Phœbe followed, and found her leaning on the balustrade of the terrace, her breathing heavily oppressed; but she smiled coldly and sternly, and tightened a stiff, cold grasp on Phœbe’s arm as she said—
‘Honor has her revenge, Phœbe! These are the kindred for whom I broke from her! Well, if Charles sells his birthright and his own father, I don’t know how I can complain of his selling my mother!’
‘But, Lucy, listen. Miss Charlecote was asking about the agent. I am sure she means to try to get it for you.’
‘I dare say. It is right that I should bear it!’