Hopes and Fears or, scenes from the life of a spinster. Yonge Charlotte Mary

with her inferiors of the west wing.

      Yet Augusta Fulmort might have been good for something, if her mind and her affections had not lain fallow ever since she escaped from a series of governesses who taught her self-indulgence by example.

      ‘I wonder what mamma said!’ exclaimed Phœbe, in her strong craving for sympathy in her suspense.

      ‘I am sorry the subject has been brought forward, if it is to unsettle you, Phœbe,’ said Miss Fennimore, not unkindly; ‘I regret your being twice disappointed; but, if your mother should refer it to me, as I make no doubt she will, I should say that it would be a great pity to break up our course of studies.’

      ‘It would only be for a little while,’ sighed Phœbe; ‘and Miss Charlecote is to show me all the museums.  I should see more with her than ever I shall when I am come out; and I should be with Robert.’

      ‘I intended asking permission to take you through a systematic course of lectures and specimens when the family are next in town,’ said Miss Fennimore.  ‘Ordinary, desultory sight-seeing leaves few impressions; and though Miss Charlecote is a superior person, her mind is not of a sufficiently scientific turn to make her fully able to direct you.  I shall trust to your good sense, Phœbe, for again submitting to defer the pleasure till it can be enhanced.’

      Good sense had a task imposed on it for which it was quite inadequate; but there was something else in Phœbe which could do the work better than her unconvinced reason.  Even had she been sure of the expediency of being condemned to the schoolroom, no good sense would have brought that resolute smile, or driven back the dew in her eyes, or enabled her voice to say, with such sweet meekness, ‘Very well, Miss Fennimore; I dare say it may be right.’

      Miss Fennimore was far more concerned than if the submission had been grudging.  She debated with herself whether she should consider her resolution irrevocable.

      Ten minutes were allowed after dinner in the parterre, and these could only be spent under the laurel hedge; the sun was far too hot everywhere else.  Phœbe had here no lack of sympathy, but had to restrain Bertha, who, with angry gestures, was pronouncing the governess a horrid cross-patch, and declaring that no girls ever were used as they were; while Maria observed, that if Phœbe went to London, she must go too.

      ‘We shall all go some day,’ said Phœbe, cheerfully, ‘and we shall enjoy it all the more if we are good now.  Never mind, Bertha, we shall have some nice walks.’

      ‘Yes, all bothered with botany,’ muttered Bertha.

      ‘I thought, at least, you would be glad of me,’ said Phœbe, smiling; ‘you who stay at home.’

      ‘To be sure, I am,’ said Bertha; ‘but it is such a shame!  I shall tell Robin, and he’ll say so too.  I shall tell him you nearly cried!’

      ‘Don’t vex Robin,’ said Phœbe.  ‘When you go out, you should set yourself to tell him pleasant things.’

      ‘So I’m to tell him you wouldn’t go on any account.  You like your political economy much too well!’

      ‘Suppose you say nothing about it,’ said Phœbe.  ‘Make yourself merry with him.  That’s what you’ve got to do.  He takes you out to entertain you, not to worry about grievances.’

      ‘Do you never talk about grievances?’ asked Bertha, twinkling up her eyes.

      Phœbe hesitated.  ‘Not my own,’ she said, ‘because I have not got any.’

      ‘Has Robert, then?’ asked Bertha.

      ‘Nobody has grievances who is out of the schoolroom,’ opined Maria; and as she uttered this profound sentiment, the tinkle of Miss Fennimore’s little bell warned the sisters to return to the studies, which in the heat of summer were pursued in the afternoon, that the walk might be taken in the cool of the evening.  Reading aloud, drawing, and sensible plain needlework were the avocations till it was time to learn the morrow’s lessons.  Phœbe being beyond this latter work, drew on, and in the intervals of helping Maria with her geography, had time to prepare such a bright face as might make Robert think lightly of her disappointment, and not reckon it as another act of tyranny.

      When he opened the door, however, there was that in his looks which made her spirits leap up like an elastic spring; and his ‘Well, Phœbe!’ was almost triumphant.

      ‘Is it—am I—’ was all she could say.

      ‘Has no one thought it worth while to tell you?’

      ‘Don’t you know,’ interposed Bertha, ‘you on the other side the red baize door might be all married, or dead and buried, for aught we should hear.  But is Phœbe to go?’

      ‘I believe so.’

      ‘Are you sure?’ asked Phœbe, afraid yet to hope.

      ‘Yes.  My father heard the invitation, and said that you were a good girl, and deserved a holiday.’

      Commendation from that quarter was so rare, that excess of gladness made Phœbe cast down her eyes and colour intensely, a little oppressed by the victory over her governess.  But Miss Fennimore spoke warmly.  ‘He cannot think her more deserving than I do.  I am rejoiced not to have been consulted, for I could hardly have borne to inflict such a mortification on her, though these interruptions are contrary to my views.  As it is, Phœbe, my dear, I wish you joy.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Phœbe managed to say, while the happy tears fairly started.  In that chilly land, the least approach to tenderness was like the gleam in which the hardy woodbine leaflets unfold to sun themselves.

      Thankful for small mercies, thought Robert, looking at her with fond pity; but at least the dear child will have one fortnight of a more genial atmosphere, and soon, maybe, I shall transplant her to be Lucilla’s darling as well as mine, free from task-work, and doing the labours of love for which she is made!

      He was quite in spirits, and able to reply in kind to the freaks and jokes of his little sister, as she started, spinning round him like a humming-top, and singing—

      Will you go to the wood, Robin a Bobbin?

      giving safe vent to an ebullition of spirits that must last her a good while, poor little maiden!

      Phœbe took a sober walk with Miss Fennimore, receiving advice on methodically journalizing what she might see, and on the scheme of employments which might prevent her visit from being waste of time.  The others would have resented the interference with the holiday; but Phœbe, though a little sorry to find that tasks were not to be off her mind, was too grateful for Miss Fennimore’s cordial consent to entertain any thought except of obedience to the best of her power.

      Miss Fennimore was politely summoned to Mrs. Fulmort’s dressing-room for the official communication; but this day was no exception to the general custom, that the red baize door was not passed by the young ladies until their evening appearance in the drawing-room.  Then the trio descended, all alike in white muslin, made high, and green sashes—a dress carefully distinguishing Phœbe as not introduced, but very becoming to her, with the simple folds and the little net ruche, suiting admirably the tall, rounded slenderness of her shape, her long neck, and short, childish contour of face, where there smiled a joy of anticipation almost inappreciable to those who know not what it is to spend day after day with nothing particular to look forward to.

      Very grand was the drawing-room, all amber-coloured with satin-wood, satin and gold, and with everything useless and costly encumbering tables that looked as if nothing could ever be done upon them.  Such a room inspired a sense of being in company, and it was no wonder that Mrs. Fulmort and her two elder daughters swept in in as decidedly procession style as if they had formed part of a train of twenty.

      The star that bestowed three female sovereigns to Europe seemed to have had the like influence on Hiltonbury parish, since both its squires were heiresses.  Miss Mervyn would have been a happier woman had she married a plain country gentleman, like those of her own stock, instead of giving a county position to a man of lower origin and enormous monied wealth.  To live up to the claims of that wealth had been her business