CHAPTER XVI.

MRS. PETERS BECOMES UNEASY, BUT CONTRIVES TO ATTAIN HER OBJECT.--A PLEASANT WALK DISCOVERED TO BE A GOOD MEANS OF MAKING A PARTY OF YOUNG PEOPLE ACQUAINTED WITH EACH OTHER.--MRS. PETERS SHEWS MUCH PROMPTITUDE AND EXPERIENCE IN TAKING LODGINGS.--SHE ALSO DISCOVERS THE BEST MODE OF LIONIZING A LADY WHO IS TOO BEAUTIFUL.--ANOTHER COUNTRY WALK IMPROVES THE INTIMACY BETWEEN THE YOUNG LADIES.

The impressions mutually received overnight, were not greatly changed when the parties met again on the following morning; excepting, indeed, that Mr. Peters was rather surprised at seeing the widow looking so very smart, and so very much handsomer.

The young people could hardly admire Agnes more than they had done before, though they confessed that they were not fully aware of the particular beauty of her hair, or of the perfect symmetry of her person, till they had seen her by daylight; but Mrs. Peters pleaded guilty to disliking her affectionate sister quite as much on Tuesday morning as she had done on Monday night; and as the sun shone brightly she took advantage of this to introduce the subject that was decidedly next her heart.

"You must take care to put this beautiful day to profit, Mrs. Barnaby," said she. "Of course you have heard of our rocks, and our downs, Miss Willoughby? and you could not look at them through a more favourable atmosphere.... We shall have time to take you to our famous windmill, and to shew you some lodgings too, Mrs. Barnaby, for we Bristol people never sacrifice business to pleasure. I thought of you yesterday morning when I saw a bill up at Sion Row ... some of the prettiest lodgings in Clifton, and it will be dangerous to put off looking at them, they are so very likely to be taken."

The good-natured Mr. Peters felt a great inclination to say that there could be no need of hurry in looking out for lodgings, as he should be so very glad to keep the ladies where they were; but, though the most perfect harmony (real harmony) and good feeling existed between Mr. Peters and his wife, a very salutary understanding also existed, that whenever she said anything that he did not quite comprehend, which not unfrequently happened, he was neither to contradict nor observe upon it till the matter had been inquired into between them when they were _tete-a-tete_, upon which occasions he always found her as ready to hear as to render reasons, and it was rare indeed that the conference broke up without their being of the same mind.

In conformity to this excellent rule, the good man suffered this lodging-hunting expedition to be arranged without offering any objection, and set off on his daily walk to the Bristol exchange, with no other observation than that he should leave James to escort them, as he did not think he should find him a very gay companion if he took him away.

The ladies then immediately dispersed to bonnet and cloak themselves, and in a few minutes the whole party, amounting to seven, all turned out upon the broad flagstones of Rodney Place, and dividing into three couples, with James hanging on upon that of which Agnes was one, proceeded, headed by Mrs. Barnaby and Mrs. Peters, towards Sion Row.

Before they reached it, however, James called a council with his eldest sister and Miss Willoughby, upon the necessity of so very large a party all going to look for lodgings.

"Would it not be better, Mary," said the young man, "for us to take Miss Willoughby to the down? The others can follow if they like it, you know, and we shall be sure to meet them coming back."

"Very well, then, tell mamma so, will you?" replied the young lady, turning off in the direction indicated.

The message caused the elder ladies to stop; Mrs. Peters looked very much as if she did not like her share in the division, but, after a moment's hesitation, she good-humouredly nodded assent, and walked on, Elizabeth, (who in her heart believed Mrs. Barnaby was the kindest person in the world, because she said so,) joining the elder ladies, and the four others striking off towards the beautiful rising ground on the right.

There is a sort of free-masonry among young people which is never brought into action till the elders are out of the way, and it was probably for this reason that Agnes felt better acquainted with her companions, before they had pursued their walk for half an hour, than all the talk of the preceding evening, or that of the breakfast-table, had enabled her to become. Something, too, might have been effected in the way of familiarity by an accident arising from the nature of the scenery upon which they paused to gaze. On reaching the windmill, and looking down upon the course of the Avon, winding its snake-like path at their feet, with the woods of Leigh, rich in their midsummer foliage, feathering down on one side, and rocks of limestone, bright in their veins of red and grey, freshly opened by the quarrying, rising beautifully bold on the other, Agnes stood wrapt in ecstasy. All she had yet seen of Nature had been the flowery meads and blooming apple orchards of the least romantic part of Devonshire; and though there was beauty enough in this to awaken that love of landscape which is always one of the strongest feelings in a finely-organized mind, she was quite unprepared for the sort of emotion the scene she now beheld occasioned her. She pressed forward before her companions, and, utterly unmindful of danger, leaned over the verge of the giddy precipice, till young Peters, really alarmed, seized her by the arm and drew her back again. Tears were in her eyes, and her face was as pale as marble.

"My dear Miss Willoughby!" said Mary, kindly, "the precipice has made you giddy, ... I do believe, if James had not seized you, that you would have fallen!"

"Oh! no, no," replied Agnes, shaking her head, while a bright flush instantly chased the paleness, "I do assure you I was not in any danger at all ... only I never saw anything so beautiful before."

"Let us sit down," said Lucy. "There is no dampness whatever. It is almost the first day of real summer, and the air is delicious. Is it not beautiful here, Agnes?"

A look of gratitude, and almost of affection, was the answer; and as the little party sat together, inhaling that most delicious of essences which the sun draws forth when herbs and flowers are what he shines upon, with a lovely landscape around, and each other's fair young faces and blithe voices beside them, was it wonderful that the recent date of their acquaintance should be forgotten, or that they laughed, and chatted, and looked about, and enjoyed themselves, with as much gaiety and as little restraint as if they had known each other for years.

They were all very happy, and a full hour passed unheeded as they amused themselves, sometimes with idle talk, sometimes with listening to the reverberating thunder that arose from the blasting of the rocks below them, and sometimes by sitting silent for a whole minute together, pulling up handfuls of the fragrant thyme with which their couch was strewed. They were all very happy, but none of the party had any notion of the happiness of Agnes. It was the first moment of real positive enjoyment she had tasted since she left Empton, and a feeling like renewed life seemed to seize upon her senses. Without reasoning about it, she had felt, during the last few months, as if it were her fate to be unhappy, and that all she had to do was to submit; but, to her equal delight and astonishment, she now found that nobody ever was so much mistaken, for that she was one of the most particularly happy people in the world, wanting nothing but sun, sweet air, and a lovely landscape, to make her forget that such a thing as sorrow existed; and the only thought that threw a shadow upon the brightness of her spirit, was that which suggested that she must have been very wicked to have doubted for a moment the goodness of God, who had formed this beautiful world on purpose to make people happy.

But, though every moment of such an hour as this seems to leave its own sweet and lasting impression on the memory, the whole is soon gone; and when Mary, with the wisdom called for by being the eldest of the party, jumped up, exclaiming that they had quite forgotten their appointment to meet her mother on the down, Agnes roused herself with a sigh, as if she had passed through a momentary trance.

They met the rest of their party, however, though the order of the meeting was changed, for it was our young set who encountered the others on their return, after a ramble of half a mile or so towards the turnpike, which it is probable had not been enlivened by any such raptures as those felt by Agnes.

The two parties now joined, and the conversation was general, not very lively perhaps, but by no means devoid of interest to Agnes, who had fallen so heartily in love with St. Vincent's rocks, as to make her hear of being fixed for some time in their neighbourhood with the greatest delight.

"Well, ma'am, have you seen any lodgings that you liked?" said the eldest Miss Peters to Mrs. Barnaby.

"Yes, my dear Mary, I have, indeed," replied the widow; "thanks to your dear kind mamma, who has really been indefatigable. Clifton seems exceedingly full, I think, and I am not sorry for it, for my poor dear Agnes really wants a little change to rouse her spirits.... That mourning habit that she so delights in, is, I am sorry to say, but too just a type of her disposition."

The brother and sisters, who had so lately shared in the gay hilarity of Agnes's laughter, exchanged glances, but said nothing, while she herself blushing, and half laughing again at the same recollection, changed the subject by saying.--

"And have you taken lodgings, aunt?"

"Yes, my dear, I have ... small but very delightful lodgings in Sion Row ... the very Row, Agnes, that you heard my dear sister mention this morning as so desirable!... and which we quite despaired of getting at first, for there appeared to be all sorts of difficulties. But," turning to Mrs. Peters, "you seem to understand all these things, Margaret, so admirably well! You made the good woman do exactly what you pleased.... So clever,... and so like your poor dear brother!..."

"My poor dear brother must have been wonderfully changed if he ever shewed himself half so self-willed!" thought the conscious Mrs. Peters, who had certainly used something like bribery and corruption to remove all difficulties in procuring for her sister-in-law apartments, which must by agreement be entered upon the following day.

"But you have got them, aunt, at last?... I am so glad of it!... for I think Clifton the most beautiful place I ever saw in my life."

"Falling in love with the young man, that is quite clear," thought the active-minded widow.

A fresh return of happiness awaited Agnes on re-entering the house. Lucy threw her wraps aside and sat down to the pianoforte: she played prettily, and sang, too, well enough to delight the thirsty ears of Agnes, who had never heard a note, excepting at the cathedral at Exeter, since she had left her school. The evident pleasure which her performance gave to her young auditor, encouraged the good-natured Lucy to proceed, and, excepting during an interval occupied by eating sandwiches for luncheon, she continued to play and sing till three o'clock.

Though by no means one of those performers who like to keep the instrument wholly to themselves, it never occurred to her to ask Agnes to play. There was something so childishly eager in the delight with which she listened, that Lucy fancied it was the novelty of the thing that so captivated her attention; and with something of that feeling, perhaps, against which her father had warned them all, and which leads young ladies at Clifton to fancy that young ladies in Devonshire must be greatly behind-hand in all things, she somehow or other took it for granted that it was very unlikely Agnes Willoughby should have learned to play or sing.

When the time-piece on the chimney struck three, there seemed to be a general movement among the Peters family, indicative of another _sortie_.

"I suppose you walk again, mother?" said the young man.

"I suppose so, James. I dare say Mrs. Barnaby will like to go to the library and put her name down at the rooms."

"Oh yes!... I shall, indeed, ... for poor Agnes's sake!..."

"Very well; that is all quite right.... You and I are smart enough, Mrs. Barnaby, but I suppose the girls will choose to change their walking bonnets for bonnets for the walk, and we must wait for them. Here are all the annuals, I believe, ... and I am deep in this review."

So saying, Mrs. Peters threw aside her shawl, seated herself in a low bee-hive that just fitted her little person, and "happified" herself with a biting article in the Quarterly.

Mrs. Barnaby smilingly turned to the piles of pretty books that decorated the loo-table; but hardly had the young ladies disappeared, and Mrs. Peters occupied herself, than she rose, and silently glided out of the room.

Agnes had no better bonnet to put on than the one she had already displayed, but she ran up stairs with the other girls, because one of them had put out a hand inviting her to do so, and it was therefore to one of their rooms she went, instead of her own: another step this, and a very considerable one too, towards intimacy between young ladies; for few things produce a more genial flow of talk than the being surrounded by a variety of objects in which all parties take a common interest.

Had Mrs. Barnaby been upon this occasion a little less humble-minded in her estimate of her own charms, it would have been better for her; but, unfortunately, a restless spirit within whispered to her that she was not quite beautiful enough for the "walk," and the "library," and the "rooms," and it was to refresh her rouge a little, that she followed the young ladies up stairs.

Now her rouge had been decidedly sufficient before, and moreover, after she had touched up her bloom to the point she deemed to be the most advantageous, it struck her that her lavender and black bonnet and plumes looked sombre, and would be rendered infinitely more becoming by introducing among the blonde beneath a few bright blossoms of various colours; so that, when she re-entered the drawing-room, she looked precisely like a clever caricature of what she had been when she left it,--the likeness not lost, but all that touched upon the ridiculous or _outre_ brought out and exaggerated.

Mrs. Peters looked up as she entered, and gave her one steady glance, then rose from her chair and rang the bell.

The young people were all seated in array, waiting for the widow's re-appearance as a signal to depart, and all rose together as she entered; but they had yet longer to wait, for Mrs. Peters, after ringing the bell, quietly reseated herself, and prepared to resume her book, saying,--

"Upon second thoughts, dear friends, I think we shall do better if we order the carriage, and take Mrs. Barnaby and Miss Willoughby to Bristol. The library and all that will be within five minutes' walk of their lodgings, and as they leave us to-morrow, it will be making better use of our time to go to Bristol to-day." At this moment a servant entered, and the determined little lady, without waiting to hear any opinions on her proposal, desired to know if the coachman was in the house.

"Yes, ma'am," was the reply.

"Then tell him to bring the carriage round as quickly as he can.... You may give Miss Willoughby another song, Lucy, in the interval. I want you, Mary, in my room for a moment."... And Mrs. Peters left the room, followed by her eldest daughter.

"Have I puzzled you, Mary?" said she, laughing, and closing the door of the dressing-room as soon as they had entered it.... "Don't think me whimsical, child, but upon my word I cannot undertake to parade that painted and plumaged giantess through Clifton. I will sacrifice myself for a two hours' purgatory, and listen with the patience of a martyr to the record of her graces, her virtues, and her dignity, but it must be in the close carriage. I always prefer performing my penances in private. Elizabeth evidently believes in her, and I really think admires her beauty into the bargain; so she had better go with us, for I presume, Mary, you have no wish to be of the party?"

"Oh yes, I will certainly go, if Agnes does.... But, mamma, I hope you won't take a fancy against our being a great deal with Miss Willoughby. I will agree in all you may choose to say against this overwhelming aunt Barnaby, but it would grieve me to be rude to her charming niece. She is, I do assure you, the very sweetest creature I ever made acquaintance with."

"It is evident that you have taken a great fancy _for_ her, ... and, upon the whole, it is a fancy that does you honour, for it clearly proves you to be exempt from the littleness of fearing a rival.... There is not a single girl in the neighbourhood that can be compared to her in beauty--I am quite ready to acknowledge that; ... but you must excuse me, Mary, if I doubt the possibility of my sympathizing with you in your general and unqualified admiration of a young lady brought up by my portentous sister Barnaby."

"But Agnes Willoughby was not brought up by her, mamma ... quite the contrary.... You laugh, mamma, but I do assure you...."

"I laugh at your '_quite the contrary_,' which means, I suppose, that she has been brought _down_ by her; and you will be brought down too, my dear, if you suffer yourself to be identified with her and her rouge in public."

"Identified with Mrs. Barnaby?... I am quite sure that I do not like her at all better than you do; and I will make myself into a porcupine, and set up my quills at her whenever she comes near me, if you wish it; but then, on your side, you must promise" ... and the young lady took her mother's hand very coaxingly ... "you must promise to take the trouble of talking a little to Agnes ... will you?"

"Yes, I will, if I have an opportunity; ... and I am sure, if she is good for anything, I pity her.... Now, then, let us go down again, and you shall see how well I will behave."

Before they reached the drawing-room, however, Mary Peters had conceived a project of her own. She knew what sort of a drive it would be when her mother was "behaving well" to a person she disliked, and she instantly addressed a whispered request to Agnes that she would stay at home, and chat, instead of going to Bristol.

"If I may!..." replied Agnes, colouring with pleasure at the proposal; but the yoke upon her young neck was far from being as easy a one as that by which Mrs. Peters guided her daughters, and she felt so much doubt of obtaining permission if she asked it herself, that she added, "Will you ask for me?"

"Mrs. Barnaby," said her courageous friend, "you must do without your niece during your drive, if you please, for she is going to look over my portfolios."

"You are excessively kind, my dear Mary!" replied the benign Mrs. Barnaby, too well satisfied at displaying herself in her beloved sister's carriage to care three straws what became of her niece the while. "I am sure Agnes can never be sufficiently grateful for all your kindness."

The delighted Agnes instantly disembarrassed herself of all out-of-door appurtenances, and Lucy, without saying a word about it, quietly did the same. The carriage was announced, the radiant widow stalked forth, Mrs. Peters took Elizabeth by the arm, and followed her, shaking her head reproachfully at Lucy as she passed her, and the young man escorted them down stairs; but having placed them in the carriage, he declined following them, saying,--

"I dare say my father will be glad of the drive home, for it is quite hot to-day.--You will be sure to find him at the Exchange Coffee-house if you get there by half-past four.... A pleasant ride!... Good morning!" and the next moment he joined the happy trio in the drawing-room.

"And what shall we do with ourselves?" said he. "Would Miss Willoughby like to promenade among the beaux and belles? Or will she let us keep her all to ourselves, and take another delightful country walk with us? Which do you vote for, Miss Willoughby."

"For the country walk, decidedly," she replied.

"Then let us go down by the zig-zag, and walk under the rocks," said Lucy; and in another minute they were _en route_ for that singular and (despite the vile colour of the water) most beautiful river-path.

The enjoyment of this second ramble was not less to Agnes than that of the first, for, if the newness of the scenery was past, the newness of her companions was past too; and she suffered herself to talk, with all the open freedom of youth and innocence, of her past life, upon which Mary, with very friendly skill, contrived to question her; for she was greatly bent upon discovering the source and cause of the widely different tone of mind which her acuteness had discovered between Mrs. Barnaby and her protegee. This walk fully sufficed to explain it; for though Agnes would have shrunk into impenetrable reserve had she been questioned about her aunt Barnaby, she opened her heart joyfully to all inquiries respecting Empton, and the beloved Wilmots; nor was she averse, when asked if Mrs. Barnaby had placed her with these very delightful people, to expatiate upon the eccentric character of her half-known aunt Betsy. On the contrary, this was a subject upon which she loved to dwell, because it puzzled her. The one single visit she had made to Miss Compton in her bower, with the simple but delicious repast which followed it ... the old lady's marked kindness to herself, her mysteriously rude manner to her aunt Martha, ... the beauty of her bower, the prettiness of her little parlour, had all left a sort of vague and romantic impression upon her mind, which no subsequent interviews had tended to render more intelligible. And all this she told, and with it the fact that it was this same dear, strange, variable aunt Compton, who had placed her in the care of Mrs. Wilmot.

"Miss Compton of Compton Basett," repeated Mary; "that is a mighty pretty aristocratic designation. Your aunt Betsy is an old spinster of large fortune, I presume?"

"Why, no, I don't believe she is; indeed, my aunt Barnaby says she is very poor, but that she might have been a great deal richer had she not given so much of her property to the poor; ... but I wish I knew something more of her.... I cannot help thinking that, with all her oddities, I should like her very much. There is one thing very strange about her," she added musingly, "she is quite deformed, quite crooked, and yet I think she is one of the most agreeable-looking persons I ever saw in my life."

"She has a handsome face, perhaps?" said Lucy.

"No, I believe not. She is very pale, and her face is small, and there is nothing very particular in her features; but yet, somehow or other, I love dearly to look at her."

"The force of contrast, perhaps?" whispered James to his eldest sister.

"No doubt of it," she replied.

And thus they walked and talked, till it was quite time to turn back, and though their pace was somewhat accelerated, it was as much as they could do to get home in time to dress for their six o'clock dinner.

But the walk was not only agreeable, but profitable to Agnes, for at the end of it Miss Peters felt fully prepared to give a reason for her confidence relative to the cause of the dissimilarity between Mrs. Barnaby and her niece.