Читать книгу Old Friends and New Fancies - Sybil G. Brinton - Страница 8

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Elizabeth was anxious to see as much of Miss Crawford as possible before their departure from Bath, which was now fixed for the 17th of April, the day after Lady Catherine's reception. She accordingly made an excuse to walk down to Mrs. Grant's house on the day before with the piece of music, which it had occurred to her might be arranged with a setting for the harp; and she found Miss Crawford in and alone. Mary was wearing her bonnet and cloak and was wrapping up a parcel when Mrs. Darcy was announced; and the latter exclaimed that she would not stay, as Mary was just going out.

"No, no, I am not—it does not matter—I was only going to take this parcel to Miss Elliot's—pray sit down, Mrs. Darcy—I can send it by the boy"; and recalling the servant, Miss Crawford handed him the package with directions to take it to Camden Place. Then returning, she threw off her cloak and said: "It really does not signify in the least; it is only a fan Miss Elliot lent me a few evenings ago—as an excuse, she said, for seeing me again when I brought it back." This was spoken with a slight blush, but on Elizabeth's repeating her regrets she exclaimed: "Oh, but I would much rather stay and talk to you. I so seldom see you alone; one seldom does see anyone alone in Bath, I think. What have you brought? Some music? How delightful! You will play it to me now."

Elizabeth explained her scheme, and Miss Crawford examined the piece with great interest, and presently declared she thought it would make an admirable duet. As she walked across the room to the harp, Elizabeth remarked: "If you like it, we might play it to-morrow night at my aunt's reception."

Miss Crawford appeared to be busily tuning the strings of her harp, and it was after a moment's pause that she replied: "I do not think we shall be at Lady Catherine's reception."

"Not be there!" repeated Elizabeth, concealing her dismay as best she could. "I am very sorry for that; we shall all be sorry not to see you there."

"Thank you," returned Miss Crawford, and seemed unwilling to say more. Elizabeth, however, could not bear to leave the subject at that point, and after a few moments suggested that if Mrs. Grant did not feel equal to going, she herself would be delighted to call for Miss Crawford and take her to Pulteney Street.

"You are very kind, Mrs. Darcy, but it is not that," said Miss Crawford, at length turning round and showing a countenance expressive of some embarrassment. "The truth is," she continued, "and I know I can speak it to a friend like yourself, that I don't think Lady Catherine really wants such very small rushlights as ourselves in her firmament of glittering stars. She cannot be said to know us; she has not called here since I was introduced to her at that concert, and only sent us a note late one evening asking us to come next day to Clifton. I do not in the least mind being invited only on account of my music, but, as Frances and I always agree, since I am not paid in money, I must be in manners. Oh! I beg your pardon—" she stopped short, colouring and biting her lip—"I should not have said that. Lady Catherine has, of course, a perfect right to do as she likes. I daresay she has long forgotten having given me an invitation."

"My dear Miss Crawford," exclaimed Elizabeth, whose colour had also risen, "say no more; you quite put us all to shame. Was there ever such an ill-mannered family? Of course, I thought that my aunt had sent you and your sister an invitation in due form. You must let me take all the blame to myself, for having omitted to remind her; we had talked, we had assumed all this time that you would be at the reception, which must account for my unpardonable forgetfulness of what should have been an early and most pleasurable duty."

Miss Crawford tried to laugh the matter off by saying that it was in no respect Mrs. Darcy's fault, and that the whole thing was too trifling to deserve a moment's consideration; besides, she added, Mrs. Darcy had presented her sister to Lady Catherine on one occasion, and could not have done more; that she was sure she and Mrs. Grant would not be missed at such a large party, and that she hoped to have other opportunities of meeting Mr. and Mrs. Darcy.

"It is because I fear there will be so few more in Bath, owing to our departure for home, that I am so particularly sorry to lose this one, and also for the cause of it," returned Elizabeth. "I can quite enter into your feelings, Miss Crawford, but will you do a very kind and generous thing, and show that you have forgiven me by availing yourself of my aunt's invitation if she tenders it in a manner you can accept?"

Miss Crawford could not be persuaded to give a definite assent to this proposal; she tried to treat the matter of her going to the party or staying away as no consequence, and laughingly protested that she would send the harp alone, which would answer all purposes as far as Lady Catherine was concerned. The utmost she could be induced to say was: "I should be very glad to give you the pleasure"; and with this Elizabeth was obliged to be content. Nevertheless, Elizabeth was so extremely desirous of securing Miss Crawford's presence, partly in the hope that Lady Catherine might be more kindly disposed to her on a closer acquaintance, and partly in order that Colonel Fitzwilliam might be enabled to enjoy her company without fear of interruption from the Elliots, that on leaving Mrs. Grant's house she hastened at once to Pulteney Street, trusting to find Lady Catherine alone and disposed to listen to her errand. In both these objects she was successful; for though the inevitable Miss Steele was in the house, she was upstairs with Miss de Bourgh, and Lady Catherine having just had a disappointment in hearing that some old friends found themselves obliged to quit Bath before her reception, was in a mood to demand Elizabeth's sympathy and to discuss matters connected with entertainment.

"It really is exceedingly trying," she said. "I am not prepared for these annoyances. At my age my friends should take care to spare me them. I am convinced that Lady Alicia Markham's son is not so ill but that he could have done without his mother for another two days."

Elizabeth condoled warmly, and listened to a description of the arrangements for the evening, in which, it appeared, Mrs. Ferrars's help had been invaluable; and when Lady Catherine named the musicians she expected, Elizabeth took advantage of the opening thus afforded her, by suggesting that a more formal invitation should be sent to Miss Crawford, to ensure her presence.

Lady Catherine stared, and in a tone of offended surprise reminded her of the first meeting with Miss Crawford. "You were present, I recollect, Elizabeth, when she was introduced to me, and I gave her the opportunity of bringing her instrument on this occasion."

"Yes, I remember its being mentioned," said Elizabeth, "but I hardly think she took it as an invitation. I fancied you meant to follow it up by calling on her and her sister."

"I may have had some thoughts of doing so," returned Lady Catherine haughtily; "but in the end I decided that I did not choose it; I cannot take up with all the new young ladies who come to Bath, and least of all those who are talked of as much as she is. She is the greatest flirt imaginable: that foolish old beau, Sir Walter Elliot, and half the men of Bath are running after her."

"No, indeed, dear madam; you have been misinformed, and I must defend her," said Elizabeth with more earnestness. "She is not in the least a flirt, and though men may run after her, they receive no encouragement to do so. But if you do not like her, there is no more to be said. Now, whom could you get in her place? I do not know any other lady, but there is a man at the theatre who is said to play the harp tolerably well."

Lady Catherine was silent for a moment with anger; then she broke out, as Elizabeth had expected: "There is no one I can get in her place. The impudent girl! She should be glad to come to a house like this. Probably she is intending to come all the time, if the truth were known; how can you tell she is not?"

"Only that when I last saw her she distinctly said that she and her sister had no reason to think themselves expected."

"No reason! when with my own mouth I said, 'I should like you to come and play at my house on the sixteenth.' Nothing could be clearer. As to her sister, if that is the very ordinary-looking person whom I believe you presented to me one morning, no, I do not recollect saying anything to her; but it is not she who plays the harp."

"She is a very agreeable and cultured woman, widow of a Canon of Westminster, and Miss Crawford goes nowhere without her."

"Well, it is all extremely annoying, and I do not know when I have been so upset. You should have told her, Elizabeth, told her plainly that she was to come. Really, the airs these people give themselves! Here is a card; I will write their names and send it round this afternoon, and I hope after that we shall have no more nonsense."

This by no means satisfied Elizabeth, and the next ten minutes were spent by her in using every means of persuasion she could think of to induce her aunt to repair all previous omissions by going to visit Mrs. Grant and conveying her invitation in person. Lady Catherine at first resisted the proposal indignantly, and would have continued to do so but for her knowledge that Miss Crawford's music was to have been an attractive part of the evening's entertainment, and an uncomfortable recollection of having told many of her friends that they would hear a person scarcely known, in whom she had discovered some remarkable talent.

This she did not betray to her niece, and when the latter left the house it was without having secured a definite promise, but Elizabeth felt she had said as much as she safely could, and she walked home, pondering on what had passed, and wondering uneasily whether what she had done had been a real kindness to Mary. This question was also raised by her husband, to whom she had related the affair on her return. He shook his head over it, and gave it as his opinion that as his aunt had been rude to Miss Crawford, and the latter was fully conscious of it, they would not meet in a spirit conducive to future good feeling.

"But it would have been worse," said Elizabeth, "if Aunt Catherine had counted on Miss Crawford's coming and she had not appeared. There would have been no healing the breach then."

"Would it have greatly signified if there had been a breach?" inquired Darcy. "But never mind, my dear, you have done your best, and it will be interesting to see the result of Aunt Catherine's efforts at conciliation—the first time she has ever appeared in such a role, I should think."

Strangely enough, Lady Catherine's efforts were successful enough, although no one ever knew precisely how she accomplished it. But it was partly accounted for by the fact that she saw Mrs. Grant alone, Miss Crawford being out. She had taken only her daughter with her, not choosing that Miss Steele should be a witness of an interview which was undoubtedly galling to her pride; and Mrs. Grant, realizing but a small part of the great lady's insolence towards her sister, and the nature of Mary's resentment of it, only perceived that Lady Catherine was anxious to have them at the party, and was willing to acknowledge any remissness in her manner of issuing the invitation. Lady Catherine was so relieved at not having to apologize directly to the object of her dislike, that she became, in the course of the interview, more and more condescendingly gracious to Mrs. Grant, whom she found, as she afterwards remarked to her daughter, an amiable, unpretentious person; and actually admitted that she ought to have called sooner, but the pressure of engagements in Bath at this period of the season was so great. The call was strictly limited to a quarter of an hour, and Mrs. Grant described it all to Mary when she came in with much spirit and humour.

Mary, on hearing that her sister had actually accepted, was inclined to be defiant, and to declare that she would have a headache and not go; of course it was kind Mrs. Darcy's doing, but she did not care to accept favours thrown at her at the eleventh hour like this, by ill-tempered old ladies who only wanted to make use of her. Mrs. Grant, whose pride in, and love of, her sister were unbounded, and who delighted in seeing her shine by means of her beauty and talents, had great difficulty in persuading her; in fact, when they met the Darcy party at the Lower Rooms the following morning, Mary still declared that her coming was so doubtful that it was not worth while to give Mrs. Darcy the trouble of learning the duet.

Elizabeth, however, felt fairly confident of seeing her there, and Colonel Fitzwilliam confirmed this by telling Elizabeth with a cheerful glance that "she had not actually said she would not go." Their hopes were realized by the arrival of the two sisters, Mary looking lovely and sparkling in white with a few fine jewels, the gifts of her devoted brother. Elizabeth, who had arrived some time earlier, happened to be near her aunt, and so was able to satisfy herself that their reception by their hostess was properly courteous, if not cordial. Lady Catherine even took the trouble to mention the name of her daughter, who stood close by, and Miss de Bourgh actually exerted herself so far as to make two separate curtsies, though the remark that it was a cold evening was taken out of her mouth by Anne Steele, who was standing next to her, and evidently considered herself included in the introduction.

Elizabeth saw with delight that Colonel Fitzwilliam was impatiently awaiting his turn after these formalities should be over, and that he immediately placed himself by Miss Crawford's side. They seemed to have much to say to one another; and Elizabeth, after greeting the two ladies, and giving Mary an expressive glance of gratitude which conveyed much more than her quiet remark: "It was kind of you to come," began to converse with Mrs. Grant until music should be demanded of Mary.

Elizabeth was very well amused in watching the arrival of the guests, and in noticing which of them were under the special patronage of the Robert Ferrars, who appeared to have brought into Lady Catherine's circle a number of individuals of about the same standing in the world of fashion as themselves. Robert Ferrars was in his element, as though he found entertaining in another person's house a much more satisfactory matter than when the trouble and expense had to be incurred by himself, besides having the advantage of being able to introduce his friends to an earl's daughter as their hostess. When all who were expected had arrived, he, in company with a showy-looking young man, dressed in the extreme of fashion, began strolling about the rooms in search of someone upon whom they could make an impression. Elizabeth thought that she and her husband might at least have escaped Mr. Ferrars's civilities; and great was her surprise when the young men paused before her, and Mr. Ferrars begged leave to introduce his friend Mr. Yates, who had newly come from London. Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, he thought, might be interested to meet Mr. Yates, in view of their intended journey, as Mr. Yates would be able to give them all information as to the state of the roads.

Mrs. Darcy had scarcely made her curtsey and was about to frame some suitable reply, when the glance of the newcomer happened to fall on Mrs. Grant, who was seated on a low chair close by. He immediately pronounced her name in tones of questioning surprise, and when she looked up, exclaimed: "Yes, I was sure it was. Upon my word, madam, I take some credit to myself, considering the length of time it is since we met. I hope I am so fortunate as to recall myself to your remembrance?"

"You are very good, sir," replied Mrs. Grant, with a perceptible effort. Her countenance expressed no great pleasure at the encounter. "Of course, I recall you perfectly. Mrs. Yates, I trust, is quite well."

"Very well, I thank you, madam; and I hope the same may be said of your fair sister, Miss Crawford—but perhaps she is no longer Miss Crawford?"

"Don't be under any alarm, Yates," struck in Robert Ferrars; "she is still Miss Crawford, and you can judge for yourself how well she is, for you will see and hear her to-night."

This speech was so offensive to Mrs. Grant that she cut short Mr. Yates's compliments, and remarking, "Yes, I am glad to say my sister is still with me," rose and prepared to move away. Elizabeth immediately suggested that they should go in search of some tea, and the dismayed Mr. Yates saw Mrs. Darcy departing before he had uttered a single word about London, or about the distinguished people he had dined with the night before last.

"Well, I'm very sorry, Ferrars," he replied to his friend's reproaches; "I'm sure I didn't want to talk to Mrs. Grant at all, but seeing her was the greatest surprise; I never dreamt of meeting her here, and, of course, I had to speak a civil word, or she would have thought it so strange."

"My dear fellow," retorted Ferrars, "what on earth did that matter? I should have thought you would understand that Mrs. Darcy is the person to make yourself agreeable to here, not Mrs. Grant, who is only a clergyman's widow. I suppose, as you knew her before, that she lived down at that precious dull place in the country, where you took your wife from."

"Yes, she did," answered Mr. Yates; "but there's a good deal more in it than that—not through her. Do you mean to say that sister of hers is really here, going about in Bath?"

"Of course she goes about; why shouldn't she?" demanded Ferrars. "Is there anything against it? The women are all down on her, I know—you should hear my wife and sister—but only because she's such a devilish pretty girl and proud; she won't have any friends but the Darcys."

"But do you actually not know? Have you never heard all about her and her brother? Between the two of them they managed to lead my wife's family a pretty dance. Neither of them can ever show their faces in Mansfield again, so it was a lucky thing the Grants moved when they did. To think of meeting Miss Crawford again! I shall tell her that Edmund Bertram is uncommonly well and prosperous, and Tom Bertram isn't married yet; and you see how she looks when I do it."

This amiable intention was frustrated, as Elizabeth, who could readily see that Mrs. Grant was disturbed by what had happened, did not need even the hint dropped by her that she hoped Mary would not meet Mr. Yates, as he was connected with the Bertrams, and all that part of her life that it was painful to her to remember, in order to make her strive in every way to protect Mary from any disagreeableness. They went to the tea-room, whither Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mary had, fortunately, preceded them some time before Mr. Yates's appearance. They were there joined by Darcy, and all five formed a happily conversing group. Mrs. Grant whispered a word to her sister, whose countenance changed for a moment; but she shook off the cloud and gave herself up to the delight of the present. Once Elizabeth received a message from her aunt requesting her to "make Miss Crawford play now," and she escorted her friend back to the music-room and did not leave her after the performance until she saw Colonel Fitzwilliam safely stationed beside her. No command to play a second time followed, rather to Elizabeth's surprise, but having a number of friends to take leave of, she could not give it much thought before her own departure, which her husband had insisted should be an early one, in view of the journey on the following day.

Mr. Yates did not, in fact, come near any of this little party during the rest of the evening, but might have been observed conversing earnestly in a quiet part of the room with Lucy Ferrars and her sister, who, judging by their rapt attention and animated countenances, found what Mr. Yates had to say deeply interesting; so much so, in fact, that when his narration was finished the two young women, having faithfully promised to repeat no word of what he had told them, took the first opportunity of slipping away unostentatiously in the direction of their hostess; and having drawn her aside, with a hint of having something very important to communicate, poured into her ears that whole story just heard, a story which, as may be imagined, lost nothing in their version of it. Lady Catherine was so exceedingly angry that her instantly expressed desire was to have both Mr. Yates and Miss Crawford—the latter being, of course, the heroine of his tale—brought before her, with some confused idea in her mind of proving to the world at large that her dislike of Mary Crawford had all the time been well founded; but Lucy's extreme terror of the consequences of this act and her part in it, while Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were there to protect their friend, caused her to implore Lady Catherine to suspend pronouncing judgment till the following day. There would still be plenty of opportunities of meeting Miss Crawford, Lucy assured her patroness. Lady Catherine would make no promises. Only the necessity of attending to her other guests, she replied, delayed her from informing Miss Crawford of her strong disapproval. She would not appear to condone such conduct as Miss Crawford's had been one moment longer than she could help. Lucy and her sister thought it safest to mingle inconspicuously with the crowd until the storm should break over some other heads.

Meantime, Elizabeth and her husband had made their farewells to most of their friends, and were exchanging a few last words with Mrs. Grant and Mary. The latter looked unusually lovely, and an expression of quiet happiness illumined her countenance. Colonel Fitzwilliam did not allow himself yet to adopt the easy manner of an intimate friend, but the earnestness of his glance towards Mary, the eagerness with which he obeyed her slightest request, betrayed the state of his feelings, and his air and manner were those of a man whose thoughts are wholly pleasant.

"I am so sorry that this is really good-bye," Elizabeth was saying, "but I am consoled by thinking it is only for a little while. You will keep your promise and come to us this summer, will you not?" Mary Crawford and her sister repeated a cordial acceptance, and the former added: "You must tell us exactly how to come, Mrs. Darcy, you must explain all the intricacies of travelling between Brighton and Derbyshire, or we shall undoubtedly be lost on the road."

"Brighton! Shall you come from there?" and it was explained that the ladies generally spent the months of June and July at some seaside place, and Brighton had been thought of for this year. "Or we may be in London with my brother," continued Mary, "but wherever we are, if you remember to ask us, we shall come."

The usual protestations of the impossibility of forgetting followed, and very warm handshakes were exchanged; then Elizabeth, turning to her cousin, said: "Are you coming home now, Robert? It will be most unfriendly of you not to, for how else shall we see you again, since you positively decline to go with us to-morrow?"

Colonel Fitzwilliam hesitated, and said he had not thought of going home just yet; but Mary interrupted him by saying: "Pray don't let us keep you, Colonel Fitzwilliam. I am sure our coach will be there now, if you would kindly inquire. Colonel Fitzwilliam was so kind as to wish to put us into our coach," she added to Elizabeth, "but it would not be worth while, just for that, to prevent him from driving home with you and Mr. Darcy."

"I will go and see, certainly," said the Colonel, moving off; "but don't wait for me, Elizabeth. I would just as soon walk back, and I will see you and Darcy at breakfast."

Darcy drew his wife's arm within his, and they made their way to Lady Catherine, who was sitting very upright in an armchair and wearing her most stern and forbidding expression. To Elizabeth's civilly-worded thanks for all the kindness and pleasure which their aunt had bestowed on her relatives during their stay, she made no reply; but when Elizabeth referred to their departure on the morrow, she started, placed her hand coldly within her niece's for a moment, and said: "Yes, you are going, I recollect. You did not consult me in the matter, but still, perhaps this year it is as well you are not staying longer."

Elizabeth was too well accustomed to her aunt's insolent speeches to seek to account for them, and turned away; while Darcy, remarking, "Yes, we have stayed as long as we care to for this year," also shook hands with his aunt, cutting her rather short in the midst of a statement that she could send no message to Georgiana, and without further delay escorted his wife downstairs.

Mary Crawford watched them from the room, and then said to Mrs. Grant: "Let us go and say good-night also, Frances. We may as well be ready—and there will be the harp to be carried down."

"Very well, my dear," returned her sister. "We shall have to take our turn, for everyone else seems to be preparing to leave at once."

They approached Lady Catherine, and when after a few minutes they reached her side, to their surprise she addressed them in a more stiff and stately manner than usual. "Ah! Miss Crawford! I was awaiting you. Will you kindly come this way?" And she preceded them towards a small library, where card-tables had been placed, but which was now deserted.

Mary was not the least apprehensive of harm, and even whispered mischievously to her sister: "Perhaps she is going to present me with a fee!" so that her astonishment was unbounded when Lady Catherine, having closed the door, turned to her and exclaimed in a voice shrill with anger, which she did not attempt to control: "As this is probably the last time we shall meet, Miss Crawford, you will allow me to inform you that I have been entirely under a misapprehension in inviting you to my house, and that I very much regret having done so." The two sisters gazed at her, both silent from surprise, and Lady Catherine made haste to continue: "I see you are on the point of asking me what reason I have for coming to this conclusion. I do not care to enter into particulars; it must be sufficient for you that facts have come to my knowledge—facts which, if you search your memory, will no doubt—"

Mary had by now found words, and she broke into Lady Catherine's speech in a voice that distress and wounded dignity caused to tremble: "I was not on the point of asking you why you propose to forbid me your house. In that matter my decision had anticipated your wishes. But I have a right to ask the meaning of this insult; even your ladyship will hardly refuse to inform me of what and by whom I am accused."

Lady Catherine drew herself up still further, and said: "I repeat that I do not care to enter into particulars. I have no wish to say anything that may be injurious to you in your future life. The facts which have come to my knowledge are facts which you must be well aware are damaging to yourself and any member of your family—only in a lesser degree to you, Mrs. Grant. I shall repeat them to no one. I only wish you to understand our acquaintance is henceforth at an end."

Mary scarcely heard the last words; she had turned to her sister, who seemed quite overwhelmed and could only say, almost indistinguishably: "That dreadful Mr. Yates! I feared—I feared—"

"Frances, dear Frances, do not give way, I implore you. Do not let her make you unhappy. What does it matter about Mr. Yates? The truth cannot harm either of us." Then, confronting Lady Catherine once more, with head proudly thrown back, she demanded: "Now, madam, in justice to my sister, if not to me, will you kindly state what Mr. Yates has told you?"

Lady Catherine, who had expected a shamefaced attitude, was unprepared for this counter-attack, and replied after some hesitation: "It is evident that you know Mr. Yates has something to tell."

"Certainly, we know exactly what Mr. Yates knows," retorted Mary with spirit, "but what he may have told your ladyship is quite another matter. Will you tell us, or are you disposed to wait for the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy? A message from us would cause them to postpone their journey to-morrow."

The taunt was a well-judged one; Lady Catherine felt its truth, and anxious not to involve herself more deeply, she exclaimed: "Mr. Yates has not spoken on the subject to me; it is sufficient for me that he has told others, upon whom I can rely, the whole story of your brother's disgraced connection with that married woman, with whose dishonoured name I will not sully my lips—is that the true, or is it not? You say the truth can do you no harm."

"The fact is true," replied Mary, who had grown very white.

"Oh, Mary, Mary!" exclaimed Mrs. Grant, "let us come away now that we know the worst."

"No," answered Mary, who was retaining her calmness by a great effort, "we will not deprive Lady Catherine of the pleasure of telling all she has heard."

"And you express no contrition, you shameless, you bad-hearted girl?" broke out Lady Catherine, giving rein to her anger. "You think it can do you no harm to have all known of that shocking affair, which alone should make you shun the society of respectable persons, but beyond and above all that, there are your own intrigues with the two brothers of that wretched woman, one of whom you enticed away from the girl to whom he was attached, and your own flirtations here, which I will not enter into, but which I have watched taking place under my very eyes—"

"That will do, I think," said Mary, raising her hand. "You can have nothing further to say. You have insulted us in every possible manner. I only hope, Lady Catherine, that by this outrage you will consider yourself to have taken ample revenge."

"How dare you speak so to my poor sister?" demanded Mrs. Grant, wrath at last overmastering her distress. "If you only knew the real truth of the matter—if you only knew who had suffered and who was to be blamed!—God forgive you your wicked thoughts and your poisonous tongue!"

"Hush, hush, Frances!" interposed Mary, drawing her sister away. "Do not try to convince her. She is not worth it," and the two sisters left the room and walked with fairly firm steps downstairs, where they procured their cloaks, and Mrs. Grant was able, by drawing down her hood, to conceal the traces of her emotion. Mary directed a servant to bring her instrument downstairs, and they awaited it within the cloak-room. A few minutes later the servant knocked at the door, asking for Miss Crawford, and both ladies hastened forward, expecting the announcement of their coach, but Mary drew back on encountering the pale and anxious gaze of Colonel Fitzwilliam, and hearing his eager words: "I feared I had missed you—that you had gone—I searched for you through the rooms—and then I heard you were with my aunt. Is anything the matter, dear Miss Crawford? I fear there is something."

"It is of no consequence, thank you, Colonel Fitzwilliam," she replied, speaking with cold pride. "You are come a little too late to be of any assistance. I see the footman has brought my harp, so if you will kindly allow us to leave the house, that is the most you can do."

"I implore you not to speak so, dearest Miss Crawford," he exclaimed, though keeping his voice low on account of the persons standing round. "Is there nothing I can do, nothing I can put right? I could, I am sure, if only I knew what had happened."

"Lady Catherine can best inform you of that," returned Mary in icy tones. "May I again request that you will ask for our carriage?"

"One moment only, and I will not detain you," he said hurriedly. "May I call on you to-morrow, at an early hour? Pray give me permission."

"I shall not be at home to-morrow," answered Mary, and swept proudly past him towards the front door, where a footman had just announced: "Mrs. Grant's carriage stops the way."

"Mrs. Grant!" exclaimed Colonel Fitzwilliam, placing himself beside that lady as she followed her sister, "you will allow me to come and see you? I will not torment your sister, but—you will not close your door on me without at least explaining the reason for this dreadful change?"

"Oh, Colonel Fitzwilliam!" exclaimed Mrs. Grant, with difficulty controlling her agitation, "if you knew all, you would not expect me to receive you; but I cannot altogether refuse, only I must have time to reflect, to consider—and my sister must be my first care."

He could only bow and acquiesce; and he assisted her into the carriage, which immediately rolled away.