Vanessa had weathered a good many paternal tempests since she had emerged from the nursery, stormy winds blown up by milliner’s bills, hurricanes provoked by too reckless flirtations, and divers other meteorological disturbances of a domestic nature. A storm, more or less, in Vanessa’s opinion made no difference.
Captain Standish rode the black to hounds, and pronounced him perfect.
‘There’s to be a grand meet next Thursday morning at Milvey Bridge, and we must all go,’ he said, to Bella. ‘You can tell Piper you are going to see the hounds throw off.’
CHAPTER XVIII.
OPENING HIS EYES.
While Bella had been indulging in archery, dinner-giving, riding, and other expensive amusements, her husband’s old friend and servant, Samuel Chumney, had returned from his fortnight’s holiday, and had taken his place among those insignificant and unvalued guests whom the mistress of the Park regarded rather as lookers on, or as a kind of human furniture, than as actual participators in her gaieties and pleasures.
On her Thursday afternoons Mrs. Piper tolerated Chumney, as a necessary evil. His old-fashioned shirt-collars were ridiculous, but harmless. He was quiet, and was therefore much less vulgar than the prosperous Porkman or the millionaire Timperley. So, as it pleased Mr. Piper to have him there, Bella endured his presence without further complaint.
‘As long as you don’t invite him to my best dinners I don’t mind,’ she told Mr. Piper, which was certainly a great concession from a young lady who, a year or so before, had not always been sure of having any dinner at all.
Mr. Chumney looked on at Bella’s career, and had his own opinion about her, and said nothing. Miss Coyle said a great deal to him, and he let her talk, but he never committed himself by any more direct expression of opinion than was to be gleaned from a grave nod, or a significant shake of the head. This dumb show of his, and the general reticence of his manners, possessed a wonderful fascination for Miss Coyle. She opened her mind to him freely, and felt herself in the presence of supreme worldly wisdom.
‘If poor Mr. Piper were only like you, that foolish young woman would not venture upon such conduct,’ said Miss Coyle, whereupon Mr. Chumney lifted his dark eyebrows, and thrust his fingers into his waistcoat pockets, and breathed a gentle sigh.