CHAPTER XIV.
HOW TO CHOOSE LODGINGS.—REASONS FOR LAYING ASIDE WIDOW'S WEEDS.—LADY-LIKE ACCOMPLISHMENTS.—AFFECTIONATE FORETHOUGHT.—CHARMING SENSIBILITY.—GENEROUS INTENTIONS.—A CLEVER LETTER, BUT ONE UPON WHICH DOCTORS MAY DISAGREE.
Of lodgings Mrs. Barnaby saw enough to offer a most satisfactory selection, and heartily to weary Agnes, who followed her up and down innumerable stairs, and stood behind her, during what seemed endless colloquies with a multitude of respectable-looking landladies, long after she had flattered herself that her aunt must have been suited to her heart's desire by what she had already seen. Of adventures the quiet streets of Exeter were not likely to produce many; but the widow had the satisfaction of observing that lounging gentlemen were abundant, a cavalry officer still visible now and then, and that hardly one man in ten of any class passed her without staring her full in the face.
At length, after having walked about till she was sufficiently tired herself, and till poor Agnes looked extremely pale, she entered a pastry-cook's shop for the purpose of eating buns, and of taking into deliberate consideration whether she should secure apartments in the Crescent, which were particularly comfortable, or some she had seen in the High Street, which were particularly gay.
Mrs. Barnaby often spoke aloud to herself while appearing to address her niece, and so she did now.
"That's a monstrous pretty drawing-room, certainly; and if I was sure that I should be able to get any company to come and see me, I'd stick to the Crescent.... But it's likely enough that I shall find nobody to know, and in that case it would be most horribly dull.... But if we did not get a soul from Monday morning to Saturday night, we could never be dull in the High Street. Such lots of country gentlemen!... And they always look about them more than any other men." And then, suddenly addressing her niece in good earnest, she added,—
"Don't you think so, Agnes?"
"I don't know, ma'am," replied Agnes, in an accent that would have delighted her aunt Compton, and which might have offended some sort of aunts; but it only amused her aunt Barnaby, who laughed heartily, and said, for the benefit of the young woman who presided at the counter, as well as for that of her niece,—
"Yes, my dear, that's quite right; that's the way we all begin.... And you will know all, how, and about it, too, long and long before you will own it."
Agnes suddenly thought of Empton parsonage, its pretty lawn, its flowers, its books, and its gentle intellectual inmates, and involuntarily she closed her eyes for a moment and sighed profoundly; but the reverie was not permitted to last long, for Mrs. Barnaby, having finished her laugh and her bun, rose from her chair, saying,—