Out in the Forty-Five Part 40

"Child, I cannot interfere with my mother. Ask Hatty to spend the day.

Then you can have a talk with her."

"Uncle, please, will you ask Grandmamma?"

"If you like," said he, with a laugh.

I heard no more about it till supper-time, when my Uncle Charles said, as if it had just occurred to him (which I dare say it had),--"Madam, I think this little puss is disappointed that Hatty cannot come at once.

Might she not spend the day here? It would be a treat for both girls."

Grandmamma's snuff-box came out as usual. I sat on thorns, while she rapped her box, opened it, took a pinch, shut the box with a snap, and consigned it to her pocket.

"Yes," she said, at last. "Dorothea, you can send Caesar with a note."

"Oh, thank you, Grandmamma!" cried I.

Grandmamma looked at me, and gave an odd little laugh.

"These fresh girls!" she said, "how they do care about things, to be sure!"

"Grandmamma, is it pleasanter not to care about things?" said I.

"It is better, my dear. To be at all warm or enthusiastic betrays under-breeding."

"But--please, Grandmamma--do not well-bred people get very warm over politics?"

"Sometimes well-bred people forget themselves," said Grandmamma, "But it is more allowable to be warm over some matters than others. Politics are to some degree an exception. We do not make exhibitions of our personal affections, Caroline, and above all things we avoid showing warmth on religious questions. We do not talk of such things at all in good society."

Now--I say this to my book, of course, not to Grandmamma--is not that very strange? We are not to be warm over the most important things, matters of life and death, things we really care about in our inmost hearts: but over all the little affairs that we do not care about, we may lose our tempers a little (in an elegant and reasonable way) if we choose to do so. Would it not be better the other way about?

Note 1. The use of the subjunctive with _when_ and _until_, now obsolete, was correct English until the present century was some thirty years old.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

CARY IN A NEW CHARACTER.

"G.o.d has a few of us whom He whispers in the ear."

BROWNING.

I feel more and more certain that something is wrong in Charles Street.

The invitation is declined, not by Hatty herself, but in a note from Mrs Crossland: "Miss Hester Courtenay has so sad a catarrh that it will not be safe for her to venture out for some days to come." [Note 1.]

"Why, Cary, that is a disappointment for you," said my Uncle Charles, kindly. "I think, Madam, as Hester cannot come, Mrs Crossland might have offered a counter-invitation to Caroline."

"It would have been well-bred," said Grandmamma. "Mrs Crossland is not very well connected. She was the daughter or niece of an archdeacon, I believe; rather raised by her marriage. I am sorry you are disappointed, child."

This was a good deal for Grandmamma to say, and I thanked her.

Well, one thing had failed me; I must try another. At the next evening a.s.sembly I watched my chance, and caught Charlotte in a corner. I asked how Hatty was.

"Hatty?" said Charlotte, looking surprised. "She is well enough, for aught I know."

"I thought she had a bad catarrh?" said I.

"Didn't know she had one. She is going to my Lady Milworth's a.s.sembly with Mrs Crossland."

I felt more sure of ill-play than ever, but to Charlotte I said no more.

The next person whom I pinned to the wall was Amelia. With her I felt more need of caution in one sense, for I did not know how far she might be in the plot, whatever it was. That no living mortal with any shadow of brains would have trusted Charlotte with a secret, I felt as sure as I did that my ribbons were white, and not red.

"Emily," I said, "why did not Hatty come with you to-night?"

"I did not ask," was Amelia's languid answer. I do think she gets more and more limp and unstarched as time goes on.

"Is she better?"

"What is the matter with her?" Amelia's eyes betrayed no artifice.

"A catarrh, I understand."

"Oh, you heard that from Miss Newton. The Newtons asked her for an a.s.sembly, and Mrs Crossland did not want to give up my Lady Milworth, so she sent word Hatty had a catarrh, I believe. It is all nonsense."

"And it is not telling falsehoods?" said I.

"My dear, I have nothing to do with it," said Amelia, fanning herself.

"Mrs Crossland may carry her own shortcomings."

I felt pretty sure now that Amelia was not in the plot.

"Will you give a message to Hatty?" I said.

"If it be not too long to remember."

"Tell her I wanted her to spend the day, and my Aunt Dorothea writ to ask her to come, and Mrs Crossland returned answer that she had too bad a catarrh, and must keep indoors for some days."

"Did she--to Mrs Desborough?" said Amelia, with a surprised look. "I rather wonder at that, too."

"Emily, help me!" I said. "These Crosslands want to keep Hatty and me apart. There is something wrong going on. Do help us, if you ever cared for either of us."

Amelia looked quite astonished and nuzzled.

"Really, I knew nothing about it! Of course I care for you, Cary. But what can I do?"

"Give that message to Hatty. Bid her, from me, break through the snares, and come. Then we can see what must be done next."

"I will give her the message," said Amelia, with what was energy for her. "Cary, I have had nothing to do with it, if something be wrong. I never even guessed it."