CHAPTER VII.
CONTAINS A LETTER FROM A DEAR FRIEND, AND TAKES THE READER ONCE MORE TO SEVERNTOWN.
“My dear Amy,” wrote Phœbe in reply to her friend’s invitation, “your letter was indeed welcome, though the news it contained startled me not a little, and made me regret ever so much more my inability to respond to your kind and sisterly invitation. My poor mother is so unwell that I cannot possibly leave her at present. She is suffering from an attack of the same kind as that which prostrated her at Barton Hall. I hope she will be quite recovered in a day or two, and then I hope to come to you.
“Dearest Amy, I am sure you will not give way in the slightest with regard to that respect and love which is your noble husband’s. The trial has come earlier than you expected, but so much the better; it will be the sooner at an end; trials in anticipation are more grievous often than when they come upon us suddenly. The memory of your noble and religious vow in that London hotel when you and I were alone will support you, and God will help you to keep in the path of duty! I know what your only fear is; but you may rely upon his respecting your position and considering the happiness of his brother too much even to utter an incautious word that shall compel you to confess all. Should the worst come to the worst, my dear sister—and this is the worst—there will be no shame in an honest avowal of the past. Don’t fear, my dear, dear Amy, he must have too acute a sense of his own neglect to make him otherwise than your true friend, and you will find him returning to India sooner than you expect.
“When mother has recovered I am to make arrangements for my marriage to my own dear Arthur. Of course you have seen how famous he has become; he is taking the highest position in art that is attainable. Ere long he will stand at the highest point of success. He comes to us from Severntown every week.
“You will be surprised to receive this letter from Lincolnshire. That Oldhall farm of which my father used to talk so much is his, and we have removed thither now a month past—during the month of your honeymoon. We have left old Dorothy at Barton, and father is going to write to you about the tenancy. We are not far from the birthplace of Tennyson, your favourite poet. I don’t think I like the country quite so well as Avonworth Valley; but it is a pleasure to see my father ‘at home,’ as it were, in his native county.
“I shall write again in a day or two. Meanwhile accept my most affectionate regards, and believe me to be
“Ever yours devotedly,
“Phœbe.”
“Oldhall, Lincolnshire.”
Amy was disappointed with this letter, but she had grown calmer since she had written to Phœbe; she had become more accustomed to the situation, and Lionel Hammerton’s conduct had allayed her fears. He observed a studious courtesy towards her, and had not in the slightest alluded to the past by word or deed. It is true she gave him no opportunity, although he had certainly once made an effort to be alone with her in the grounds.
A succession of callers and visitors was of great assistance to the Earl’s wife, and she encouraged his lordship to invite his country neighbours to dinner. On several days she had to receive presents from local manufacturers at Brazencrook—specimens of their wares specially manufactured for her. This gave her occupation, and her gracious manners speedily won for her a reputation of which she might well be proud. She was pronounced in Brazencrook to be the most beautiful and the least proud of any lady in the land, and the country people were enchanted with her amiability and her sparkling conversational powers. The old vicar and his wife, who had never agreed about anything in their lives before, agreed that she was a charming woman, and all the district was singing her praises in less than a week.