take care. You’re a learned young lady.’
‘No; I’m very backward.’
‘Ah! it’s the fashion to deny it, but mind you don’t mention Shakespeare.’
‘Why not?’
‘Did you never hear of the Merchant of Venice?’
Phœbe, a little startled, wanted to hear whether Mrs. Charteris were really Jewish, and after a little more in this style, which Honor reasonably feared the Parsonses might not consider in good taste, it was explained that her riches were Jewish, though her grandfather had been nothing, and his family Christian. Owen adding, that but for her origin, she would be very good-looking; not that he cared for that style, and his manner indicated that such rosy, childish charms as were before him had his preference. But though this was evident enough to all the rest of the world, Phœbe did not appear to have the least perception of his personal meaning, and freely, simply answered, that she admired dark-eyed people, and should be glad to see Mrs. Charteris.
‘You will see her in her glory,’ said Owen; ‘Tuesday week, the great concern is to come off, at Castle Blanch, and a rare sight she’ll be! Cilly tells me she is rehearsing her dresses with different sets of jewels all the morning, and for ever coming in to consult her and Rashe!’
‘That must be rather tiresome,’ said Honor; ‘she cannot be much of a companion.’
‘I don’t fancy she gets much satisfaction,’ said Owen, laughing; ‘Rashe never uses much “soft sawder.” It’s an easy-going place, where you may do just as you choose, and the young ladies appreciate liberty. By the bye, what do you think of this Irish scheme?’
Honora was so much ashamed of it, that she had never mentioned it even to Phœbe, and she was the more sorry that it had been thus adverted to, as she saw Robert intent on what Owen let fall. She answered shortly, that she could not suppose it serious.
‘Serious as a churchyard,’ was Owen’s answer. ‘I dare say they will ask Phœbe to join the party. For my own part, I never believed in it till I came up to-day, and found the place full of salmon-flies, and the start fixed for Wednesday the 24th.’
‘Who?’ came a voice from the dark mantelshelf.
‘Who? Why, that’s the best of it. Who but my wise sister and Rashe? Not a soul besides,’ cried Owen, giving way to laughter, which no one was disposed to echo. ‘They vow that they will fish all the best streams, and do more than any crack fisherman going, and they would like to see who will venture to warn them off. They’ve tried that already. Last summer what did Lucy do, but go and fish Sir Harry Buller’s water. You know he’s a very tiger about preserving. Well, she fished coolly on in the face of all his keepers; they stood aghast, didn’t know what manner of Nixie it was, I suppose; and when Sir Harry came down, foaming at the mouth, she just shook her curls, and made him wade in up to his knees to get her fly out of a bramble!’
‘That must be exaggerated,’ said Robert.
‘Exaggerated! Not a word! It’s not possible to exaggerate Cilly’s coolness. I did say something about going with them.’
‘You must, if they go at all!’ exclaimed Honora.
‘Out of the question, Sweet Honey. They reject me with disdain, declare that I should only render them commonplace, and that “rich and rare were the gems she wore” would never have got across Ireland safe if she had a great strapping brother to hamper her. And really, as Charles says, I don’t suppose any damage can well happen to them.’
Honora would not talk of it, and turned the conversation to what was to be done on the following day. Owen eagerly proffered himself as escort, and suggested all manner of plans, evidently assuming the entire direction and protection of the two ladies, who were to meet him at luncheon in Lowndes Square, and go with him to the Royal Academy, which, as he and Honora agreed, must necessarily be the earliest object for the sake of providing innocent conversation.
As soon as the clock struck ten, Robert took leave, and Owen rose, but instead of going, lingered, talking Oxford with Mr. Parsons, and telling good stories, much to the ladies’ amusement, though increasing Honora’s trepidation by the fear that something in his tone about the authorities, or the slang of his manner, might not give her friends a very good idea of his set. The constant fear of what might come next, absolutely made her impatient for his departure, and at last she drove him away, by begging to know how he was going all that distance, and offering to send Henry to call a cab, a thing he was too good-natured to permit. He bade good night and departed, while Mr. Parsons, in answer to her eager eyes, gratified her by pronouncing him a very fine young man.
‘He is very full of spirit,’ she said. ‘You must let me tell you a story of him. They have a young new schoolmistress at Wrapworth, his father’s former living, you know, close to Castle Blanch. This poor thing was obliged to punish a school-child, the daughter of one of the bargemen on the Thames, a huge ruffianly man. Well, a day or two after, Owen came upon him in a narrow lane, bullying the poor girl almost out of her life, threatening her, and daring her to lay a finger on his children. What do you think Owen did?’
‘Fought him, I suppose,’ said Mr. Parsons, judging by the peculiar delight ladies take in such exploits. ‘Besides, he has sufficiently the air of a hero to make it incumbent on him to “kill some giant.”’
‘We may be content with something short of his killing the giant,’ said Honor, ‘but he really did gain the victory. That lad, under nineteen, positively beat this great monster of a man, and made him ask the girl’s pardon, knocked him down, and thoroughly mastered him! I should have known nothing of it, though, if Owen had not got a black eye, which made him unpresentable for the Castle Blanch gaieties, so he came down to the Holt to me, knowing I should not mind wounds gained in a good cause.’
They wished her good night in her triumph.
The receipt of a letter was rare and supreme felicity to Maria; therefore to indite one was Phœbe’s first task on the morrow; after which she took up her book, and was deeply engaged, when the door flew back, and the voice of Owen Sandbrook exclaimed, ‘Goddess of the silver bow! what, alone?’
‘Miss Charlecote is with her lawyer, and Robert at the office.’
‘The parson and parsoness parsonically gone to study parsonages, schools, and dilapidations, I suppose. What a bore it is having them here; I’d have taken up my quarters here, otherwise, but I can’t stand parish politics.’
‘I like them very much,’ said Phœbe, ‘and Miss Charlecote seems to be happy with them.’
‘Just her cut, dear old thing; the same honest, illogical, practical sincerity,’ said Owen, in a tone of somewhat superior melancholy; but seeing Phœbe about to resent his words as a disrespectful imputation on their friend, he turned the subject, addressing Phœbe in the manner between teasing and flattering, habitual to a big schoolboy towards a younger child, phases of existence which each had not so long outgrown as to have left off the mutual habits thereto belonging. ‘And what is bright Cynthia doing? Writing verses, I declare!—worthy sister of Phoebus Apollo.’
‘Only notes,’ said Phœbe, relinquishing her paper, in testimony.
‘When found make a note of—Summoned by writ—temp. Ed. III.—burgesses—knights of shire. It reads like an act of parliament. Hallam’s English Constitution. My eyes! By way of lighter study. It is quite appalling. Pray what may be the
