Pemberley Shades. D. A.Bonavia-Hunt

with her to Portsmouth.”

      “But that was because she did not like to go so far from her family,” said Miss Sophia.

      “Pray do not contradict me, Sophia. Indeed she would have gone if I had not warned her mother that it was no proper place for her. How can you think of it, I said. A Pemberley girl at Portsmouth. The very idea! Do you suppose you would ever see her again? You should have more care than to let her run into such danger.”

      Darcy waited until she had finished her speech and then continued: “I was speaking of Yew Tree Cottage which is now empty. As you are under the painful necessity of removing from the Parsonage very shortly, I beg that you will seriously consider its suitability for your future abode. The house is not so large as this, but it is in fact more spacious than would appear from the first view. As soon as you can conveniently see him, Mr. Groves will wait upon you to give you all particulars.”

      The sisters looked at each other as if unable to credit their ears. Miss Robinson went purple with indignation and Miss Sophia pink with discomfiture; but the latter, not having lost all the effects of good breeding, commanded herself sufficiently to thank him.

      “You are always kindness and consideration itself, Mr. Darcy. I am sure Yew Tree Cottage is a very pretty little house, but it would not take the half of our furniture—would it, Sister? And we do not think we need to leave the Parsonage after all, for with a little proper management it could be arranged for us to continue here, which would be so much better for us. Of course we know that we can no longer count upon the income from the living, but our dear Papa has most thoughtfully provided for us, and with care and economy we can still maintain ourselves in the same way as before. I am sure you would not want us to quit our dear home, for Sister could not be happy anywhere else.”

      “I am afraid,” said Darcy speaking more gently, “that you do not altogether comprehend the matter. You have lived here so long that it is but natural for you to regard the house as your own. But the fact is that the Parsonage forms part of the benefice, and the new rector, whoever he may be, will expect to take possession of it as soon as he enters the parish, and most certainly to find it ready for the reception of himself, his family—should he have any—and his furniture.”

      “That would not be the case if you asked Mr. Mortimer to accept the living,” said Miss Robinson. “I hear you have not got a new rector yet, so you can still do so. I wonder you have not thought of it, for I do not think he would take much pressing. Nothing could be more advantageous for everybody. He would continue in his own house at Clopwell, and we should not be turned out of our home to make way for a stranger. I am certain he would never desire it.”

      “I have no intention of offering the living to Mr. Mortimer.”

      Miss Robinson looked at him, but seemed not to have heard.

      “Mr. Mortimer says that all could be done very well by a curate, and that it is quite the thing nowadays for a rector to reside away from the parish.”

      “I do not remember Mr. Mortimer saying that, Sister,” Miss Sophia said in some surprise.

      “I beg you will not interrupt, Sophia. It was the day you stayed in bed with a cold caught by going through the rain to see Mrs. Finch. You would go in spite of all I could say, and she was not at home, so back you had to come through the rain, and got your feet wet.”

      “Whatever Mr. Mortimer may have said on the subject is hardly to the point,” said Darcy slightly raising his voice. “I am exceedingly sorry to add to your distresses, but you must allow me to be the best judge of what is for the good of the parish. The personal convenience of individuals—though friends—cannot weigh with me in comparison with that. Mr. Mortimer is all that is amiable, but he has no serious interest in a clergyman’s duties, as he would be the first to avow.”

      “But surely, Mr. Darcy, there would be no objection to engaging a curate. A young man of no particular family and used to poverty would not want to be paid very much. He could lodge with some respectable, clean village woman.”

      “A curate,” said Darcy firmly, “whether under Mr. Mortimer or anyone else, will not do for Pemberley. I must ask you to accept that as final and unconditional. As regards to another residence for yourselves, I do not wish to make any stipulation except as to removal within the usual period—I believe three months—observed in such cases. Any facilities that I can give are entirely at your service.” He rose as he spoke for he was afraid that unless he ate his words nothing further could be said that would not call for repentance in a calmer mood.

      “Indeed, yes,” faltered Miss Sophia, looking thoroughly frightened. “I do not think that poor Papa had any opinion of curates either. If they are so poor, as they always are, they cannot be gentlemen, and that is a pity. It is very unfortunate that Mr. Mortimer has so little liking for making sermons. But there are so many beautiful ones written already that there is no need for him to put himself to any trouble. I am sure there are more than twenty volumes alone in Papa’s study, for he would often take a paragraph from one of them to fill up what he had written himself. But of course whatever Mr. Darcy thinks is right should be done. Only as to Yew Tree Cottage, it would not take the half of our furniture unless by building on—”

      “Do not talk such nonsense, Sophia,” cried her sister. “By the time Yew Tree Cottage was large enough we should be in our graves.”

      Darcy, studiously polite, but also inflexibly determined to retract nothing of what he had said, now took his leave. Miss Robinson curtseyed with indignant ceremony. As the butler was ushering him to the front door he could hear her voice uplifted in castigation of poor Miss Sophia who had not yet learnt the wisdom of being silent, and never would.

      CHAPTER II.

       Table of Contents

      In moments of extreme emotion, especially of wrath or mortification, a gentleman in possession of a wife will rightly claim all her attention while he unburdens himself to the uttermost with that perfect freedom of expression which is his prerogative as a husband. The duty of a wife on such occasions is to listen, and when all has been said, to make observations of a consolatory nature, confirming the gentleman in his good opinion of himself and his bad opinion of all who thwart or vex him, and finally restoring him to good humour.

      On reaching home, Darcy went in search of Elizabeth, expressly to acquaint her with all that had been unfolded during his visit to the Parsonage. As she was not in any of her accustomed places in the house, and none of the servants could say where she had gone, he went upstairs to his sister’s sitting-room, hoping for information. Georgiana was seated at the pianoforte, and deep in the study of some very intricate music which she was reading for the first time, neither heard nor saw him until he had spoken twice over.

      “Elizabeth?” she then replied. “She was here not very long ago. She did not stay a minute—I believe she said she was going out into the grounds. Perhaps she is walking with Richard.”

      “Have you no recollection at all where she said she was going?”

      Georgiana thought for a moment or two and at length answered: “She asked me my favourite colour for a rose, and now I remember that she was going to see some new sorts of roses McGregor has grown which are coming into bloom in one of the greenhouses. She said he had asked her to name them.”

      This gave a probable direction to Elizabeth’s whereabouts, and after lingering another moment or two looking at Georgiana’s music and advising her not to study too hard, he went off in good hope of soon finding his wife. Making his way through the flower garden, he came upon her walking there attended by the Scotch head gardener. Both of them were surveying the severely pruned stumps of rose-bushes in a long bed with the deepest interest. While he was still some distance away Elizabeth looked up and gave him a smile of welcome. As soon as they were face to face something of urgency and constraint in his demeanour warned her that he had news to tell, that it would not wait, and that he was impatient of McGregor’s presence. The old servant doubtless