But Master Charles’s healthy nature reasserted itself speedily,—the more speedily that his pursuit of Miss Barlowe had still been full of the idealism of an uncorrupted youthful manhood, of a dreamy delight in the present, and a vague grasp of the future. First he returned with renewed zest to his old interests and occupations. Then he gradually wore back to the original friendly footing, free now from all uncertainty and double meaning, on which he had been with Lady Bell.
She witnessed the change, and was a little mystified, a little mortified; but being true to herself and him, she was easily reconciled to it. She was not a budding coquette. She was not naturally weak, though girlishly weak. She had been more sinned against than sinning. She had not forgotten Lady Lucie’s lessons of religion and virtue, however she had swerved from them; and that remembrance, even in the middle of perversity and shortsightedness, with grace given her, prevented her from falling. But she had even been saved from the temptation of loving her young squire, so that she could afford to be thankful that he had soon ceased to love her, and was willing to be no more than her friend.
CHAPTER XIX.
AN OLD FRIEND.
The white hoar frost which had given a fairy-like beauty to the old orchard trees of Nutfield had long melted away, and was replaced by the first powdering and fluttering of green on the grey gnarled boughs.
The birds which Lady Bell had fed no longer came hopping to door and windowsill, but, independent of her bounty, and forgetful of past favours, broke off the acquaintance, and gave themselves up to satisfactory poking for worms in the soft earth, to energetic pecking at the first midges and green flies, and to the absorbing delights of pairing.
Summer company might be anticipated to fill the spare rooms at Nutfield. But Miss Kingscote, though not so graceful and winning in her ways as Lady Bell’s feathered friends, was more faithful, and less carried away by the claims of her personal history, in the association which had remained unbroken since Lady Bell had communicated the fact of her marriage.
Miss Kingscote made up her mind to retain Mrs. Barlowe as a companion, “for, Lud! I’ve growed fond of her.” Miss Kingscote told herself in a succession of reflections, “it would cost me summat to part with her. Besides, what would become of the wench herself, as is pure genteel and dandily, though she do have the smartest fingers, and the prettiest devices, if she were cast out into the world, may be to be driven back on the tender mercies of her villain of a man. I do have a spite at them men; except my Master Charles—he’s a good sort, as well as a pretty fellow, to make his sister’s heart glad, and other lasses’ hearts sad. But this lass she knows that she and Master Charles can’t at no price come together, since she’s neither a rank fool nor a base hussy, and he’s not an abandoned rakish rascal, God bless him! She’s a safe playfellow for Master Charles, as well as good company for me.
“She’ll help me in the knotted fringes for the curtains of them beds. She has begun covers for the spare chairs, which ain’t half finished, and which I could no more complete all alone than I could dance a minnuee. I want a hand, too, in the sets out when the folks staying in the house step in to sup with Master Charles and me; and I am no great shakes at the preserving and pickling which summer do bring on heavy, since old nursey would never let me try, so long as she could have a finger in the pie. I can prank myself fine enough, but Master Charles he’s besotted with the last modes, and he lays into me to take Mrs. Barlowe’s word in the matter. Well, I’m not misdoubting that, wheresoever, and at whatsoever loss the poor thrown-away thing learnt it, she knows the fashions of the top company.”
Thus Lady Bell lived on at Nutfield, and shared the agreeable stir which followed the first announcement of the season of lodgers to the house.
“It’s the mayor’s wife have sent out a messenger express that the rooms are wanted for a Lon’on lady the mayor knows on (we only make our house free to friends and friends’ friends, Mrs. Barlowe), a young madam newly lain in with her first child, and seeking quiet and country air to recruit her,” was Miss Kingscote’s important tidings.