Now on this very morning it chanced that Mrs. Somerton felt it her duty to call at Chirke Weston.
For, as she said, it was impossible to know what that artful little creature, Margaret Capel was about with those two brothers, unless she went to see it with her own eyes; and that it was Blanche's business to counteract her as much as possible: that if Margaret had really entangled Hubert, to flirt with him would be a mere waste of time; but that although George was not an impressible subject, yet by management, something might be done with him. Even a little attention from so fastidious a person might be of service to her; for there were several men in the neighbourhood who took for gospel all that George Gage chose to say.
"Ah!" said the amiable Blanche, "it is very well that I know how to manage matters without your help! See what you have done for my sister.
Thank you! I don't wish to follow her example. I shall find a match for myself!"
"You are looking very well to day," said Mrs. Somerton, putting up her glass, "if you would but wear your hair a little lower on your face."
"Much obliged," retorted Blanche. "I say, look at my sister, as complete an old maid as ever lived; all owing to your valuable hints. She has nothing for it now but to go to Missionary meetings, and pick up a stray Methodist preacher."
"There is one thing," said Mrs. Somerton, exasperated by this attack. "I don't believe anybody ever had such ill-disposed ungrateful children as mine!"
"Chips of the old block, I suppose," returned Blanche laughing.
"Come, come;" said Mrs. Somerton, as they reached the entrance to Chirke Weston, "this is not to the purpose; recollect that George is your object to-day."
While this attack was preparing for the unconscious Mr. Gage, he was in the drawing-room pretending to read the paper, and employing himself in watching intently every movement of Harriet Conway.
As soon as Elizabeth was gone, Harriet took up a book, drew a footstool close to the fire, and sat down upon it. She wore a beautiful morning gown of purple Cashemere, worked in floss silk, and trimmed, and tied with cords and tassels. Her attitude was striking and graceful, and as she slowly turned the leaves of her book, the light of the fire sparkled on the costly rings that adorned her slender fingers.
Although Mr. Gage never removed his eyes from her, she feigned to be totally absorbed in her book, and unconscious of his presence. At last he approached her under pretence of mending the fire.
She looked up and nodded to him.
"What is that you are reading?" said he. "A French novel? I thought ladies never did such things in public."
"I thought you knew, Squire--I mean Mr. Gage, that I am never ashamed of any thing I do," said Harriet. "Besides, this is a very readable one of Eugene Sue's."
"Yes--a certain class of French novels are very harmless," said Mr.
Gage.
"Look!" said Harriet, turning the book round, and holding it up so that he might read the title: 'Arthur.'
Now Mr. Gage had never read 'Arthur;' so he said directly, that it was a very clever work; indeed, in parts, really beautiful. There was something quite touching in one or two of the scenes.
As this might be safely said of any book written by Eugene Sue, Mr. Gage was not out of his depth.
Harriet acquiesced, and asked him what he thought of the character of Helene.
Mr. Gage replied without hesitation, that it was very ably depicted, but that his ideas of female perfection were not exactly formed upon that model.
"Too statuesque, perhaps, for your taste," said Harriet.
"Yes, that was the case," Mr. Gage said, catching at the hint. "He thought something a little less unbending more attractive in the female character."
"And do you not think Arthur very interesting, in spite of his faults?"
said Harriet.
"Undoubtedly," replied Mr. Gage, "but whether he would find any favour with the fair sex, you can determine better than me."
"I don't know. I can't quite make out," said Harriet. "You see one would never be prepared for so strange a disposition. But how beautifully he describes scenery," she continued, turning the leaves. "He makes quite a paradise of this cottage ornee."
"Your taste," said Mr. Gage, in a very pointed manner. "Your taste would lead you to a much less simple style of architecture."
"Oh, yes!" said Harriet putting up her book to conceal her smiles. "I hate cottages. My idea of perfect felicity is to be found only in a nobleman's seat."
"I trust," said Mr. Gage, looking very grand and injured, "that you will never have reason to acknowledge yourself mistaken."
"Why, George," said Harriet, just trusting her laughing eyes over the top of her book, "how long have you been an advocate for living in cottages? I should think they must be just one degree worse than barracks."
"Heartless!" muttered Mr. Gage, turning away, and walking to the window.
Harriet buried her face in her handkerchief to stifle her laughter. She was not in the slightest degree afraid that Mr. Gage would transfer his regard to another, in consequence of her provoking mystifications. She felt that she had regained her power over him, and that as long as she remained single, so would he. But she delighted in mischief, and would not for the world have let him discover that she cared anything about him. At this instant the bell rang.
"Now don't for Heaven's sake, George, leave me to entertain your guests," said Harriet, looking up with a very flushed face, "it is only fair to stay and support me."
"Pray don't call them my guests," said Mr. Gage, coming back, however, "I should have rather a different visiting list if this house were in my possession."
"Yes, your list would be very extensive if you lived in one of your favourite cottages," said Harriet, seating herself on the sofa; "all the neighbouring farmers and their wives. How I should like to see you playing cribbage with Farmer Jenkins!"
Mr. Gage leaning against the mantelpiece, "regretted that he was unable to follow all Miss Conway's flights of fancy," and "was not aware that he had said anything that could lead her to suppose he intended forming an intimacy with Farmer Jenkins."
The door was opened and Mrs. Somerton and her daughter were announced.
Harriet bowed coldly; and Mr. Gage, after a still more frigid fashion.
Mrs. Somerton, who had seen the world, was not at all put out by this English reception; and Blanche with a manner full of _minauderie_, glanced sideways at Mr. Gage, and glided into a chair as near to him as she conveniently could. Now any person totally unacquainted with society, and forming their notions of good manners from abstract principles, would perhaps imagine that Mr. Gage and Harriet would instantly begin to talk to the visitors, and endeavour to amuse them until Miss Gage should arrive. Not at all; they had seen enough of company, to know how much they might leave undone; a code much more extensively put in practice than that which might teach people how much to do.
Mr. Gage stared across at Mrs. Somerton. Harriet with her head drawn up, surveyed Blanche.
At last, Mr. Gage said to Harriet, "Have you any idea where Bessy is?"
"I suppose," said Harriet, "that she is somewhere among the hot-houses.
Hubert said something about the American plants. I dare say she will be in to luncheon."
"It is not half past one yet," said Mr. Gage, pointing to the time-piece.
"That French piece of trumpery is always wrong," said Harriet.
"My watch is the same, all but two minutes," said Mr. Gage, taking it out.
"If they happened to meet your father, you know, he would carry them all over the country," returned Harriet.
"Of course he would," said Mr. Gage, "whenever I see his straw hat, I make a point of getting out of the way. I have no idea of being handed round the farm yard, and introduced to every fresh litter of pigs."
"Have not you?" said Harriet mischievously. "I thought those humble pleasures belonged especially to the sphere of life you are so partial to. Most cottages, I believe in these days, can boast a pig-stye."
Mr. Gage hardly knew whether to laugh or be angry; at that moment Elizabeth and Margaret made their appearance together, followed by Hubert with a splendid bouquet of flowers.