“If any thing came of all this reverie, I should be less uneasy about it; but while she becomes more unfit for common life, I do not perceive that her understanding improves like her sister’s. It is time something was done, nurse; and I hope the experiment has not been delayed too long.”
A month was to be spent in London, previous to their leaving England. It was now the gay season in town: the exhibitions were all open: and as the girls had lived in almost entire seclusion, their father wished to embrace the present opportunity of gratifying that love of the fine arts with which he had taken pains to inspire them. They could both draw well, having been well taught and long-practised; but they had never seen any picture-gallery, but one. There was a fine collection at Audley Castle, and there Mary had gazed and studied till she knew every picture by heart, and had copied all the best into her mind, and some few into her portfolio. She had an earnest desire to see other works of her favourite masters, and to become acquainted with the productions of many whom she yet knew only by name. The time too appeared at hand, when they should hear such music as their hearts told them of by anticipation, but as their ears had never heard. The most ancient edifice they had ever seen was the market-cross of A——, which bore date 1521. No; not the most ancient, for Mary had once been in a cathedral, when she was only four or five years old. She remembered dimly the chill grandeur of the aisles, and the music of the choir, as it swelled from the soft breathings of a single voice, to the pealing harmony which rang again from the roof. She remembered enough to make her long intensely, and to communicate to her sister an equal impatience to see Westminster Abbey. Mr. Byerley had many political connexions in London, but they were not persons with whom he wished to form more than an acquaintance; and as it was necessary that they should hold their time at their own disposal, he refused several invitations to take up an abode at the houses of friends, and requested Signor Elvi to engage lodgings in a favourable situation. He was very happy to receive such a commission, and on the evening when they were expected, awaited their arrival in the apartments, which he was resolved they should not enter without meeting with a welcome.
A doubt had been started, whether or not the girls should take their maid Susan with them. It seemed probable that in France she would be an incumbrance more than a help; but their father dreaded the effects of their inexperience in the ways of travelling, in the little circumstances of a journey in which he could not help them, and on which its comfort and pleasure so much depended. It was resolved, at last, that she should accompany them to London, and then proceed or not, as might appear desirable at the end of a month. On the appointed morning, therefore, Susan having looked into her young mistresses’ drawers, to see that the packing, which was managed in their own very original style, was complete, and that nothing needful was left behind, appeared in her new straw bonnet and shawl, ready to mount the box when the carriage drove up to the door. It was hard to say who looked the most grave and sad—Mr. Byerley, who was whirled away in opposition to his inclinations if not to his will; or Nurse Rickham and the remaining servant, who were left behind, to comfort one another as they best might.
The travelling party reached their lodgings in town in time for a late dinner;—their pretty, convenient apartments, looking out upon such a scene of organized bustle as the girls had formed no idea of. When they had been welcomed by Signor Elvi, and had in turn welcomed him to dinner, when they had followed their civil-spoken hostess to their apartment, and been introduced to all its advantages of prospect, air, quiet, &c. and when they had dismissed fish and fowl, the question arose, what was to be done next? Mary replied, by taking down from the mantel-piece the notes which had awaited them from Mr. B——, the professor of music, and Mr. D——, the drawing-master, who appointed certain days and hours for giving the desired lessons. Mr. B—— was to come the next morning; so Mary lost no time in trying whether the instrument provided by Signor Elvi was in tune. It satisfied her perfectly, and she was then ready to accompany the party in a drive round Regent’s Park. It was not the hour for seeing the throng of company with which it is crowded at an earlier period of a fine spring day; but the splendour of the buildings afforded quite enough interest for the first visit. The wonders of the Colosseum, the Diorama, and the Zoological Gardens, were reserved for another day; and before it grew dark, the party were glad to return to tea and to bed. They set down Signor Elvi at his lodgings, having agreed upon the time which should be devoted to their lessons with him.
At breakfast the next morning, the girls heard with consternation, that their father was going out immediately on business, and would be absent for some hours.
“But, papa, Mr. B—— is coming at eleven o’clock, to give me my music lesson.”
“Well, my dear, what of that? you do not think I can assist your music, do you?”
“And Mrs. Boyer, and the Nicholsons, will most likely call this morning,” said Anna; “and you know we are quite strangers to them.”
“They will not be strangers when they have been here five minutes; and if they were, I do not know what you should be afraid of, or how I could be of any use to you.”
So saying, and knowing that his daughters might reasonably remonstrate further, he pushed away his cup and saucer, nodded, and left them.