It is hoped that a certain quarter of lamb will not have been forgotten — a quarter of lamb that was sent as a peace-offering from Exeter to Nuncombe Putney by the hands of Miss Stanbury’s Martha, not with purposes of corruption, not intended to buy back the allegiance of Dorothy, folded delicately and temptingly in one of the best table napkins, with no idea of bribery, but sent as presents used to be sent of old in the trains of great ambassadors as signs of friendship and marks of true respect. Miss Stanbury was, no doubt, most anxious that her niece should return to her, but was not, herself, low spirited enough to conceive that a quarter of lamb could be efficacious in procuring such return. If it might be that Dorothy’s heart could be touched by mention of the weariness of her aunt’s solitary life; and if, therefore, she would return, it would be very well; but it could not be well unless the offer should come from Dorothy herself. All of which Martha had been made to understand by her mistress, considerable ingenuity having been exercised in the matter on each side.
On her arrival at Lessboro’, Martha had hired a fly, and been driven out to Nuncombe Putney; but she felt, she knew not why, a dislike to be taken in her carriage to the door of the cottage; and was put down in the middle of the village, from whence she walked out to Mrs Stanbury’s abode, with the basket upon her arm. It was a good half mile, and the lamb was heavy, for Miss Stanbury had suggested that a bottle of sherry should be put in under the napkin and Martha was becoming tired of her burden, when whom should she see on the road before her but Brooke Burgess! As she said herself afterwards, it immediately occurred to her, ‘that all the fat was in the fire.’ Here had this young man come down, passing through Exeter without even a visit to Miss Stanbury, and had clandestinely sought out the young woman whom he wasn’t to marry; and here was the young woman herself flying in her aunt’s face, when one scratch of a pen might ruin them both! Martha entertained a sacred, awful, overcoming feeling about her mistress’s will. That she was to have something herself she supposed, and her anxiety was not on that score; but she had heard so much about it, had realised so fully the great power which Miss Stanbury possessed, and had had her own feelings so rudely invaded by alterations in Miss Stanbury’s plans, that she had come to entertain an idea that all persons around her should continually bear that will in their memory. Hugh had undoubtedly been her favourite, and, could Martha have dictated the will herself, she would still have made Hugh the heir; but she had realised the resolution of her mistress so far as to confess that the bulk of the property was to go back to a Burgess. But there were very many Burgesses; and here was the one who had been selected, flying in the very face of the testatrix! What was to be done? Were she to go back and not tell her mistress that she had seen Brooke Burgess at Nuncombe, then, should the fact be found out, would the devoted anger of Miss Stanbury fall upon her own head? It would be absolutely necessary that she should tell the story, let the consequences be what they might; but the consequences, probably, would be very dreadful. ‘Mr Brooke, that is not you?’ she said, as she came up to him, putting her basket down in the middle of the dusty road.
‘Then who can it be?’ said Brooke, giving her his hand to shake.
‘But what do bring you here, Mr Brooke? Goodness me, what will missus say?’
‘I shall make that all straight. I’m going back to Exeter tomorrow.’ Then there were many questions and many answers. He was sojourning at Mrs Crocket’s, and had been there for the last two days. ‘Dear, dear, dear,’ she said over and over again. ‘Deary me, deary me!’ and then she asked him whether it was ‘all along of Miss Dorothy’ that he had come. Of course, it was all along of Miss Dorothy. Brooke made no secret about it. He had come down to see Dorothy’s mother and sister, and to say a bit of his own mind about future affairs and to see the beauties of the country. When he talked about the beauties of the country, Martha looked at him as the people of Lessboro’ and Nuncombe Putney should have looked at Colonel Osborne, when he talked of the church porch at Cockchaffington. ‘Beauties of the countries, Mr Brooke you ought to be ashamed of yourself!’ said Martha.
‘But I ain’t the least in the world,’ said Brooke.
Then Martha took up her basket, and went on to the cottage, which had been close in sight during their conversation in the road. She felt angry with Dorothy. In such matters a woman is always angry with the woman who has probably been quite passive, and rarely with the man, who is ever the real transgressor. Having a man down after her at Nuncombe Putney! It had never struck Martha as very horrible that Brooke Burgess should fall in love with Dorothy in the city, but this meeting, in the remoteness of the country, out of sight even of the village, was almost indecent; and all, too, with Miss Stanbury’s will just, as one might say, on the balance! Dorothy ought to have buried herself rather than have allowed Brooke to see her at Nuncombe Putney; and Dorothy’s mother and Priscilla must be worse. She trudged on, however, with her lamb, and soon found herself in the presence of the three ladies.
‘What Martha!’ said Dorothy.
‘Yes, miss here I am. I’d have been here half-an-hour ago amost, if I hadn’t been stopped on the road.’
‘And who stopped you?’ asked Priscilla.
‘Why Mr Brooke, of course.’
‘And what did Mr Brooke say to you?’ asked Dorothy.
Martha perceived at once that Dorothy was quite radiant. She told her mistress that she had never seen Miss Dorothy look half so comely before. ‘Laws, ma’am, she brightened up and speckled about, till it did your heart good to see her in spite of all.’ But this was some time afterwards.
‘He didn’t say very much,’ replied Martha, gravely. ‘But I’ve got very much to tell you,’ continued Dorothy. ‘I’m engaged to be married to Mr Brooke, and you must congratulate me. It is settled now, and mamma and my sister know all about it.’
Martha, when she was thus asked directly for congratulation, hardly knew at once how to express herself. Being fully aware of Miss Stanbury’s objection to the marriage, she could not venture to express her approbation of it. It was very improper, in Martha’s mind, that any young woman should have a follower, when the ‘missus’ didn’t approve of it. She understood well enough that, in that matter of followers, privileges are allowed to young ladies which are not accorded to maid servants. A young lady may do things, have young men to walk and talk with them, to dance with them and embrace them, and perhaps even more than this, when for half so much a young woman would be turned into the streets without a character. Martha knew all this, and knew also that Miss Dorothy, though her mother lived in a very little cottage, was not altogether debarred, in the matter of followers, from the privileges of a lady. But yet Miss Dorothy’s position was so very peculiar!
Look at that will or, rather, at that embryo will, which might be made any day, which now probably would be made, and which might affect them both so terribly! People who have not got money should not fly in the face of those who have. Such at least was Martha’s opinion very strongly. How could she congratulate Miss Dorothy under the existing circumstances. ‘I do hope you will be happy, miss, that you knows,’ said Martha, in her difficulty. ‘And now, ma’am, miss, I mean,’ she added, correcting herself, in obedience to Miss Stanbury’s direct orders about the present ‘missus has just sent me over with a bit of lamb, and a letter as is here in the basket, and to ask how you is and the other ladies.’
‘We are very much obliged,’ said Mrs Stanbury, who had not understood the point of Martha’s speech.
‘My sister is, I’m sure,’ said Priscilla, who had understood it.
Dorothy had taken the letter, and had gone aside with it, and was reading it very carefully. It touched her nearly, and there had come tears into both her eyes, as she dwelt upon it. There was something in her aunt’s allusion to the condition of unmarried women which came home to her especially. She knew her aunt’s past history, and now she knew, or hoped that she knew, something of her own future destiny. Her aunt was desolate, whereas upon her the world smiled, most benignly. Brooke had just informed her that he intended to make her his wife as speedily as possible, with her aunt’s consent if possible, but if not, then without it. He had ridiculed the idea of his being stopped by Miss Stanbury’s threats, and had said all this in such fashion that even Priscilla herself had only listened and obeyed. He had spoken not a word of his own income, and none of them had dreamed even of asking him a question. He had been as a god in the little cottage, and all of them had been ready to fall down and worship him. Mrs Stanbury had not known how to treat him with sufficient deference, and, at the same time, with sufficient affection. He had kissed them all round, and Priscilla had felt an elation which was hardly intelligible to herself. Dorothy, who was so much honoured, had come to enjoy a status in her mother’s estimation very different from that which she had previously possessed, and had grow............