“And you’ll let Fairoaks, of course? Good school in the neighbourhood; cheap country: dev’lish nice place for East India Colonels, or families wanting to retire. I’ll speak about it at the club; there are lots of fellows at the club want a place of that sort.”
“I hope Laura will live in it for the winter, at least, and will make it her home,” Arthur replied: at which the Major pish’d and psha’d, and said that there ought to be convents, begad, for English ladies, and wished that Miss Bell had not been there to interfere with the arrangements of the family, and that she would mope herself to death alone in that place.
Indeed, it would have been a very dismal abode for poor Laura, who was not too happy either in Dr. Portman’s household, and in the town where too many things reminded her of the dear parent whom she had lost. But old Lady Rockminster, who adored her young friend Laura, as soon as she read in the paper of her loss, and of her presence in the country, rushed over from Baymouth, where the old lady was staying, and insisted that Laura should remain six months, twelve months, all her life with her; and to her ladyship’s house, Martha from Fairoaks, as femme de chambre, accompanied her young mistress.
Pen and Warrington saw her depart. It was difficult to say which of the young men seemed to regard her the most tenderly. “Your cousin is pert and rather vulgar, my dear, but he seems to have a good heart,” little Lady Rockminster said, who said her say about everybody—“but I like Bluebeard best. Tell me, is he touche au coeur?”
“Mr. Warrington has been long—engaged,” Laura said, dropping her eyes.
“Nonsense, child! And good heavens, my dear! that’s a pretty diamond cross. What do you mean by wearing it in the morning?”
“Arthur—my brother, gave it me just now. It was—it was——”
She could not finish the sentence. The carriage passed over the bridge, and by the dear, dear gate of Fairoaks—home no more.
CHAPTER LIX.
Old Friends
It chanced at that great English festival, at which all London takes a holiday upon Epsom Downs, that a great number of the personages to whom we have been introduced in the course of this history, were assembled to see the Derby. In a comfortable open carriage, which had been brought to the ground by a pair of horses, might be seen Mrs. Bungay, of Paternoster Row, attired like Solomon in all his glory, and having by her side modest Mrs. Shandon, for whom, since the commencement of their acquaintance, the worthy publisher’s lady had maintained a steady friendship. Bungay, having recreated himself with a copious luncheon, was madly shying at the sticks hard by, till the perspiration ran off his bald pate. Shandon was shambling about among the drinking tenants and gipsies: Finucane constant in attendance on the two ladies, to whom gentlemen of their acquaintance, and connected with the publishing house, came up to pay a visit.