PHOEBE'S SUITOR.
"Mr. George Talboys.—Any person who has met this since the 7th inst., or who any him to that date, will be on with A.Z., 14 Chancery Lane."
Sir Michael Audley read the above in the second of the Times, as he sat at with my lady and Alicia two or three days after Robert's return to town.
"Robert's friend has not yet been of, then," said the baronet, after reading the to his wife and daughter.
"As for that," my lady, "I cannot help that any one can be to for him. The man was of a restless, disposition—a of Bamfyld Moore Carew of modern life, no keep in one spot."
Though the appeared three times, the party at the Court very little to Mr. Talboys' disappearance; and after this one occasion his name was again mentioned by either Sir Michael, my lady, or Alicia.
Alicia Audley and her were by no means any friends after that on which the had at the Court.
"She is a vain, frivolous, little coquette," said Alicia, herself to her Newfoundland dog Caesar, who was the of the lady's confidences; "she is a and flirt, Caesar; and not with setting her yellow and her at the men in Essex, she must needs make that of mine upon her. I haven't common patience with her."
In proof of which last Miss Alicia Audley her with such very that Sir Michael himself called upon to with his only daughter.
"The little woman is very sensitive, you know, Alicia," the said, gravely, "and she your most acutely."
"I don't it a bit, papa," answered Alicia, stoutly. "You think her she has soft little white hands, and big with long lashes, and all manner of affected, ways, which you men call fascinating. Sensitive! Why, I've her do with those white fingers, and laugh at the pain she inflicted. I'm very sorry, papa," she added, a little by her father's look of distress; "though she has come us, and Alicia of the love of that dear, heart, I wish I like her for your sake; but I can't, I can't, and no more can Caesar. She came up to him once with her red apart, and her little white teeth them, and his great with her soft hand; but if I had not had of his collar, he would have at her and her. She may every man in Essex, but she'd make friends with my dog."
"Your dog shall be shot," answered Sir Michael angrily, "if his Lucy."
The Newfoundland rolled his slowly in the direction of the speaker, as if he every word that had been said. Lady Audley to enter the room at this very moment, and the animal by the of his with a growl. There was something in the manner of the dog which was, if anything, more of terror than of fury; as it that Caesar should be by so a as Lucy Audley.
Amicable as was my lady's nature, she not live long at the Court without Alicia's to her. She to it but once; then, her white shoulders, she said, with a sigh:
"It very hard that you cannot love me, Alicia, for I have been used to make enemies; but since it that it must be so, I cannot help it. If we cannot be friends, let us be neutral. You won't try to me?"
"Injure you!" Alicia; "how should I you?"
"You'll not try to me of your father's affection?"
"I may not be as as you are, my lady, and I may not have the same sweet and for every I meet, but I am not of a meanness; and if I were, I think you are so secure of my father's love, that nothing but your own act will you of it."
"What a you are, Alicia!" said my lady, making a little grimace. "I you to by all that, that I'm deceitful. Why, I can't help at people, and speaking to them. I know I'm no than the of the world; but I can't help it if I'm pleasantér. It's constitutional."
Alicia having thus the door upon all Lady Audley and herself, and Sir Michael being in and sports, which him away from home, it was natural that my lady, being of an social disposition, should herself a good upon her white-eyelashed for society.
Phoebe Marks was the of a girl who is promoted from the post of lady's to that of companion. She had just education to her to her when Lucy to allow herself to in a of tarantella, in which her to the of its own rattle, as the Spanish dancer at the noise of his castanets. Phoebe of the French language to be able to into the yellow-paper-covered which my lady ordered from the Burlington Arcade, and to with her upon the of these romances. The which the lady's to Lucy Audley was, perhaps, a point of the two women. It was not to be called a likeness; a might have them together, and yet have failed to it. But there were and lights in which, meeting Phoebe Marks through the dark passages of the Court, or under the in the garden, you might have easily her for my lady.
Sharp October were the from the in the long avenue, and them in with a noise along the walks. The old well must have been up with the that about it, and in circles into its black, mouth. On the still of the fish-pond the same slowly away, mixing themselves with the that the surface of the water. All the Sir Michael not keep the of autumn's hand from the about the Court.
"How I this month!" my lady said, as she walked about the garden, her mantle. "Every thing to and decay, and the cold of the sun up the of the earth, as the of gas-lamps lights the of an old woman. Shall I old, Phoebe? Will my off as the are from those trees, and me and like them? What is to of me when I old?"
She at the of this more than she had done at the cold, breeze, and herself closely in her fur, walked so fast that her had some in up with her.
"Do you remember, Phoebe," she said, presently, her pace, "do you that French we read—the of a woman who had some crime—I what—in the of her power and loveliness, when all Paris to her every night, and when the people ran away from the of the king to about hers, and a at her face? Do you how she the of what she had done for nearly a century, her old age in her family chateau, and by all the as an saint and to the poor; and how, when her was white, and her almost with age, the was through one of those by which such always are in romances, and she was tried, guilty, and to be alive? The king who had her colors was and gone; the of which she had been a star had passed away; powerful and great magistrates, who might have helped her, were in the graves; cavaliers, who would have died for her, had upon battle-fields; she had to see the age to which she had like a dream; and she to the stake, by only a country people, who all her bounties, and at her for a sorceress."
"I don't for such stories, my lady," said Phoebe Marks with a shudder. "One has no need to read books to give one the in this place."
Lady Audley her and laughed at her maid's candor.
"It is a place, Phoebe," she said, "though it doesn't do to say so to my dear old husband. Though I am the wife of one of the most men in the county, I don't know that I wasn't nearly as well off at Mr. Dawson's; and yet it's something to wear that cost sixty guineas, and have a thousand on the of one's apartments."
Treated as a by her mistress, in the receipt of the most wages, and with such as lady's had before, it was that Phoebe Marks should wish to her situation; but it was not the less a that she was to all the of Audley Court for the very which her as the wife of her Cousin Luke.
The man had in some manner to himself with the of his sweetheart. He had allowed Phoebe any peace till she had for him, by the of my lady's interference, a as of the Court.
He out with either Alicia or Sir Michael; but on one of the occasions upon which my lady the little for her use, he to her in her ride. He saw enough, in the very hour they were out, to that, as Lucy Audley might look in her long cloth habit, she was a horsewoman, and unable to manage the animal she rode.
Lady Audley with her upon her in to the groom.
The two were seated together over the fire in my lady's dressing-room, the sky in upon the October afternoon, and the black of the windows.
"You surely are not in love with the awkward, are you, Phoebe?" asked my lady sharply.
The girl was on a low at her feet. She did not answer my lady's question immediately, but sat for some time looking into the red in the fire.
Presently she said, as if she had been than Lucy's question:
"I don't think I can love him. We have been together from children, and I promised, when I was little than fifteen, that I'd be his wife. I daren't that promise now. There have been times when I've up the very I meant to say to him, telling him that I couldn't keep my with him; but the have died upon my lips, and I've sat looking at him, with a sensation, in my that wouldn't let me speak. I daren't to him. I've often and him, as he has sat away at a hedge-stake with his great clasp-knife, till I have that it is just such men as he who have their into places, and them for being false to their word. When he was a boy he was always and revengeful. I saw him once take up that very knife in a with his mother. I tell you, my lady, I must him."
"You girl, you shall do nothing of the kind!" answered Lucy. "You think he'll you, do you? Do you think, then, if is in him, you would be any as his wife? If you him, or him jealous; if he wanted to another woman, or to of some poor, of money of yours, couldn't he you then? I tell you you sha'n't him, Phoebe. In the place I the man; and, in the next place I can't to part with you. We'll give him a and send him about his business."
Phoebe Marks my lady's hand in hers, and them convulsively.
"My lady—my good, mistress!" she cried, vehemently, "don't try to me in this—don't ask me to him. I tell you I must him. You don't know what he is. It will be my ruin, and the of others, if I my word. I must him!"
"Very well, then, Phoebe," answered her mistress, "I can't oppose you. There must be some at the of all this." "There is, my lady," said the girl, with her away from Lucy.
"I shall be very sorry to you; but I have promised to your friend in all things. What your to do for a when you are married?"
"He would like to take a public house."
"Then he shall take a public house, and the sooner he drinks himself to death the better. Sir Michael at a bachelor's party at Major Margrave's this evening, and my step-daughter is away with her friends at the Grange. You can your into the drawing-room after dinner, and I'll tell him what I to do for him."
"You are very good, my lady," Phoebe answered with a sigh.
Lady Audley sat in the of and in the drawing-room; the of the sofa with her dark dress, and her about her in a haze. Everywhere around her were the of and splendor; while in to all this, and to her own beauty; the his as my lady to him what she to do for her maid. Lucy's promises were very liberal, and she had that, as the man was, he would, in his own manner, have his gratitude.
To her he at the without a word in answer to her offer. Phoebe was close to his elbow, and at the man's rudeness.
"Tell my lady how you are, Luke," she said.
"But I'm not so over and above thankful," answered her lover, savagely. "Fifty ain't much to start a public. You'll make it a hundred, my lady?"
"I shall do nothing of the kind," said Lady Audley, her clear with indignation, "and I wonder at your in it."
"Oh, yes, you will, though," answered Luke, with that had a meaning. "You'll make it a hundred, my lady."
Lady Audley rose from her seat, looked the man in the till his under hers; then walking up to her maid, she said in a high, voice, to her in moments of agitation:
"Phoebe Marks, you have told this man!"
The girl on her at my lady's feet.
"Oh, me, me!" she cried. "He it from me, or I would never, have told!"
