The Three Brides

'And are you always a prisoner here? Ah! I know your patience.'

'What was the matter on which you wanted to speak to me?' said Mrs. Poynsett, fretted beyond endurance by the soft, caressing tone.

'As I said, I should hardly venture if I did not know we agreed- though perhaps not for the same reasons. We do agree in our love and high opinion of your dear Frank!'

'Well!' repressing a shudder at the 'dear.'

'I am afraid we likewise agree that, under all circumstances, our two young people are very unfortunately attached, and that we must be hard-hearted, and let it go no further.'

'You mean your sister?'

'My dear Lena! I cannot wonder! I blame myself excessively, for it was all through my own imprudence. You see, when dear Frank came to Rockpier, it was so delightful to renew old times, and they both seemed such children, that I candidly confess I was off my guard; but as soon as I had any suspicion, I took care to separate them, knowing that, in the state of my poor father's affairs, it would be most unjustifiable to let so mere a youth be drawn into an attachment.'

'Frank is no prize,' said his mother with some irony.

'I knew you would say that, dear Mrs. Poynsett. Pecuniarily speaking, of course, he is not; though as to all qualities of the heart and head, he is a prize in the true sense of the word. But, alas! it is a sort of necessity that poor Lena, if she marry at all, should marry to liberal means. I tell you candidly that she has not been brought up as she ought to have been, considering her expectations or no expectations. What could you expect of my poor father, with his habits, and two mere girls? I don't know whether the governess could have done anything; but I know that it was quite time I appeared. I tell you in confidence, dear Mrs. Poynsett, there was a heavy pull on my own purse before I could take them away from Rockpier; and, without blaming a mere child like poor dear Lena you can see what sort of preparation she has had for a small income.'

It is hard to say which tried Mrs. Poynsett's patience most, the 'dears' or the candour; and the spirit of opposition probably prompted her to say, 'Frank has his share, like his brothers.'

'I understand, and for many girls the provision would be ample; but poor Lena has no notion of economizing- how should she? I am afraid there is no blinking it, that, dear children as they both are, nothing but wretchedness could result from their corning together; and thus I have been extremely sorry to find that the affair has been renewed.'

'It was not an unnatural result of their meeting again.'

'Ah! there I was to blame again; but no one can judge whether an attachment be real between such children. I thought, too, that Frank would be gone out into the world, and I confess I did not expect to find that he had absolutely addressed her, and kept it secret. That is what my poor father feels so much. Eleonora is his special darling, and he says he could have overlooked anything but the concealment.'

Maternal affection assumed the defensive; and, though the idea of concealment on the part of one of her sons was a shock, Mrs. Poynsett made no betrayal of herself, merely asking, 'How did it come to light?'

'I extorted the confession. I think I was justified, standing in a mother's position, as I do. I knew my vigilance had been eluded, and that your son had walked home with her after the skating; and you know very well how transparent young things are.'

The skating! The mother at once understood that Frank was only postponing the explanation till after his examination; and besides, she had never been ignorant of his attachment, and could not regard any display thereof more or less as deception towards herself. The very fact that Lady Tyrrell was trying to prejudice her beforehand, so as to deprive him of the grace of taking the initiative towards his own mother, enlisted her feelings in his defence, so she coldly answered, 'I am sorry if Sir Harry Vivian thinks himself unfairly treated; but I should have thought my son's feelings had been as well known in the one family as in the other.'

'But, dear Mrs. Poynsett,' exclaimed Lady Tyrrell, 'I am sure you never encouraged them. I am quite enough aware-whatever I may once have been-of the unfortunate contrast between our respective families.'

Certainly there was no connection Mrs. Poynsett less wished to encourage; yet she could not endure to play into Camilla' hands, and made reply, 'There are many matters in which young men must judge for themselves. I have only once see Miss Vivian, and have no means of estimating my son's chance of happiness with her.'

Her impenetrability ruffled Lady Tyrrell; but the answer was softer than ever. 'Dear Mrs. Poynsett, what a happy mother you are, to be able so freely to allow your sons to follow their inclinations! Well! since you do not object, my conscience is easy on that score; but it was more than I durst hope.'

To have one's approval thus stolen was out of the question and Mrs. Poynsett said, 'Regret is one thing, opposition another. Sir Harry Vivian need not doubt that, when my son's position is once fixed, he will speak openly and formally, and it will then be time to judge.'

'Only,' said Lady Tyrrell, rising, 'let this be impressed on your son. Eleonora cannot marry till she is of age, and my father cannot sanction any previous entanglement. Indeed it is most unfortunate, if her affections have been tampered with, for me, who have outgrown romance, and know that, in her position, a wealthy match is a necessity. I have spoken candidly,' she repeated; 'for I like Frank too well to bear that he should be trifled with and disappointed.'

'Thank you!'

The ladies parted, liking one another, if possible, less than before.

Mrs. Poynsett's instinct of defence had made her profess much less distaste to the marriage than she really felt; she was much concerned that another son should be undergoing Raymond's sad experiences, but she had no fear that Lady Tyrrell would ever allow it to come to a marriage, and she did not think Frank's poetical enthusiasm and admiration for beauty betokened a nature that would suffer such an enduring wound as Raymond's had done.

So she awaited his return, without too much uneasiness for amusement in Rosamond's preparations. One opening into the conservatory was through her room, so that every skilful device, or gay ornament, could be exhibited to her; and she much enjoyed the mirth that went on between the queen of the revels and her fellow- workers.

Cecil did not interfere, being indeed generally with her friends at Sirenwood, Aucuba Villa, or the working-room, in all of which she had the pleasure of being treated as a person of great consideration, far superior to all her natural surroundings, and on whom hinged all the plans for the amelioration of Willansborough.

Sometimes, however, it happens that the other side of a question is presented; and thus it was on the day before the entertainment, when Rosamond had taken her brother Tom to have his hair cut, and to choose some false moustaches, and the like requisites for their charades.

They went first to Pettitt's, the little hair-dresser, where Tom was marvellously taken with the two Penates, and could hardly be dragged into the innermost recesses, where in the middle of a sheet, with a peignoir on his shoulders, he submitted to the clipping of his raven-black locks, as Mr. Pettitt called them, on the condition of his sister looking on.

Presently they heard some feet enter the outer shop, and Mrs. Duncombe's voice asking for Mr. Pettitt; while his mother replied that he would wait on her immediately, but that he was just now engaged with the Honourable Mr. De Lancey. 'Could she show them anything?'

'Oh no, thank you, we'll wait! Don't let us keep you, Mrs. Pettitt, it is only on business.'

'Ay!' said the other voice-female, and entirely untamed. 'He's your great ally about your gutters and drains, isn't he?'

'The only landowner in Wil'sbro' who has a particle of public spirit!' said Mrs. Duncombe.

Whereat good-natured Lady Rosamond could not but smile congratulation to the hair-cutter, who looked meekly elevated, while Tom whispered, 'Proverb contradicted.'

But the other voice replied, 'Of course-he's a perfumer, learned in smells! You'd better drop it, Bessie! you'll never make anything of it.'

'I'll never drop what the health and life of hundreds of my fellow-creatures depend on! I wish I could make you understand, Gussie!'

'You'll never do anything with my governor, if that's your hope-you should hear him and the mum talking! 'It's all nonsense,' he says; 'I'm not going to annoy my tenants, and make myself unpopular, just to gratify a fashionable cry.' 'Well,' says mumsey, 'it is not what was thought the thing for ladies in my time; but you see, if Gussie goes