CHAPTER XIV.

THE BANQUET.

FOR some weeks all went on smoothly between Winifred and her pupils. The needlework was transferred from the morning to the afternoon, and a story or a reading was the reward of good behavior. Phyllis and Jemima, the twins, were easily made amenable to discipline. Phyllis was a lively, high-spirited girl, affectionate and truthful, taking the lead in study and play, and maintaining a complete ascendency over Jemima, who was slower and more disposed to indolence, but who followed her sister's lead in everything, good and bad.

Winifred found the most difficulty in breaking up the habit of teasing both their elder and younger sisters. Paulina's airs of superior sanctity and wisdom, and Betty's passionate temper, offered a fair mark for their girlish wit. Paulina usually received their assaults in sullen silence and contempt, while a very little sufficed to throw Betty into a passion of rage, in which she was like a mad creature for a few minutes, and afterwards perfectly overwhelmed with penitence and grief. These tempests were the more dangerous as the child's health was very delicate, and she was subject to alarming swoons.

With Paulina, Winifred could not feel that she gained any ground. At first, indeed, Paulina seemed much interested in talking about Lady Peckham and her ways, though she was evidently unwilling to allow any merit to a style of piety so very different from her own; and many were the arguments she held with Winifred upon the subject. All at once, just as Winifred seemed to be getting upon some terms of intimacy and confidence with her, Paulina froze up again more entirely than ever. She would not speak a word more than she could help on religious subjects, or any other, and spent as much time as possible in her own room; while her fastings and penances were renewed with redoubled ardor. She asked and obtained permission to attend morning prayers at the cathedral—a permission her mother granted all the more easily, because Sir John Trelawny, the bishop, was noted as a very decided Protestant, and was indeed one of the seven bishops who were soon afterwards imprisoned by King James.

Lady Corbet only stipulated that her daughter should always be accompanied by Molly, one of the maids, who was a great favorite both with her and Ashwell, the old housekeeper. She had come highly recommended, and was a well-mannered, smooth-spoken personage, professing great devotion to the whole family and especially to Mrs. Paulina. Winifred did not like her, and blamed herself for entertaining a prejudice against such a useful and harmless person, but she could not get rid of the feeling that Molly was somehow playing a double part. As Phyllis said, she always looked as if she were watching everything and everybody.

To judge by Paulina's face and manner, she found little comfort in her church-going. She grew thin and pale every day, and often appeared in the morning with her eyes swollen as if she had cried all night. She professed to read a great deal in her own room, but she always excused herself, if possible, from the Bible reading with which Winifred began the morning lessons, and indeed almost always came in too late for them, while her preoccupation told visibly upon her lessons, in which Phyllis and even Jemima threatened to outstrip her.

"I shall have to speak to your mother, unless you take more pains with your lessons, Paulina," said Winifred to her, one day, after the children had left the room. "You set your sisters a very bad example. What can they think of the effect of your religion, when they see you growing more careless and neglectful of your duties every day? You bring dishonor on the cause itself."

"I cannot help it," said Paulina. "I have something more important to think about than tapestry work and tables."

"Your matters must be important indeed, if they are more so than the duty imposed upon you by God Himself of obeying and honoring your parents!" said Winifred, gravely. "You are cheating and deceiving them by thus wasting your time and mine."

Paulina flushed scarlet, and then, bursting into tears, she ran out of the room. From that time she was more careful with her lessons, but the cloud of depression grew deeper every day, and Winifred began to be seriously uneasy, and to debate with herself whether she ought not to mention the matter to the girl's mother. But incidents were soon to occur which would render any such explanation unnecessary, and which put an end forever to all poor Betty's school-room troubles.

"Dear me, Mrs. Evans, I wonder if you can help me upon a pinch?" exclaimed Lady Corbet one day, bursting into the school-room, evidently in a great heat. "Here has Sir John sent up from the sugar-house to say that he has a party of Londoners come to see the furnaces, and desiring me to have a banquet prepared for them and be ready to receive them all in half an hour. And there is the furniture in the great room to be uncovered and dusted, and myself to be dressed—and how it is to be done 'I' don't know, for Ashwell has gone home to her mother, who is ill, and the cook has no notion of anything beyond her saucepans. Do tell me what I shall do, there's a dear!"

"If you will allow me, madam, I will arrange the banquet myself, and that will allow you time to dress and to superintend the ordering of the great rooms," said Winifred.

"Oh, my dear! But are you sere you know how? Sir John is very particular."

"I think so," said Winifred, smiling. "I have often assisted Mrs. Alwright. There is abundance of wall fruit now ripe, and if you will allow me as many flowers as I need, and the help of Mrs. Paulina—"

"Take anything you need!" said Lady Corbet, evidently greatly relieved. "You will find a tray and dishes in the great closet, and there is the key of the store-room, where is abundance of preserved fruits, both English and other. But use the Indian comfits as much as you can, for Sir John will be glad to see them."

"Cannot we help too?" asked the twins and Betty, all in a breath.

"Not this time," said Winifred. "You have your lessons to learn, and, having wasted so much time already this morning, I cannot allow you to spend any more. Let me see when I come back that you have redeemed your time, and with madam your mother's permission, I will bring you some comfits."

"To be sure, poor wretches!" (Wretch, in those days, was a term of endearment.) "Do just as you like, Mrs. Evans, only do have everything ready in time!"

"No fear, madam. Give yourself no concern, only go and dress, and we will have all things prepared," said Winifred, entering into the spirit of the affair, which recalled to her mind some of the delightful bustles at the Hall on similar occasions. "Run to the garden, Paulina, and bring me all the red and white roses you can find, with plenty of other flowers, and young lavender and rosemary shoots. Cut short stems, and don't go off in a dream and forget what you are about!"

Paulina departed, and presently returned with her basket and apron full of flowers. She found Winifred, with her gown tucked up and her ruffles turned back, dishing out preserves, arranging comfits and spices in numberless glass and china bowls, and piling up fruit in silver baskets. All these bowls and baskets, being arranged in symmetrical order in the large wooden trays which stood on the table, and decked with quantities of flowers, constituted the banquet which it was the custom to serve up to guests like those Lady Corbet expected. Paulina looked on in wonder and admiration, as Winifred contrived, arranged, and planned, harmonizing forms and colors with the eye of a born artist.

"That is really beautiful!" said she, as Winifred stepped back to contemplate her work. "All I have ever seen before were just heaps of good things piled up any how. And you really take pleasure in the work!" she added, looking at Winifred's delicately flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. "I don't see how one like you can care for such matters. In an hour all this will be ruined and scattered, and who will be the better for all your toil?"

"Ever so many people!" said Winifred. "I shall be the better for having pleased madam your mother, who has been kind to me. Madam will be pleased because Sir John is, and Sir John will be gratified at having done due honor to his guests. Besides, I love the work. It recalls the happiest days of all my life, when I used to help my dear lady at the Hall."

"I should not think my cousin would have cared for such worldly trifles," said Paulina.

"My dear lady cared for anything which would give pleasure to others," said Winifred. "I have seen her spend hours over Sir Edward's laced bands and ruffles because no one else could do them so much to his mind. Ah, my dear, when you come to look rightly at life, you will find that the least trifles may be sanctified by being directed and done to our dear Divine Master. But we will talk of that another time. I hear your mother coming from her room; please ask her to step this way."

Lady Corbet held up her hands.

"You are a jewel—a perfect jewel, Mrs. Evans! I must have you for my own. That comes from your good bringing up. But I must certainly have you with me all the time. You would be worth all the other women in the house to me."

"I am sure, madam, Ashwell does her best," said Paulina. "She has been a faithful servant for many years, and it would be hard to turn her away for a stranger."

"And pray, Mistress Malapert, who talks of turning her away, or who asked your advice in the matter at all?" said Lady Corbet, turning sharply round. "When I want your counsel, I will ask for it. There, child, I did not mean to be sharp with you, but you do vex me past endurance—always taking it for granted that one means to do the worst thing possible, and taking elders and betters to task on every occasion. When I was at your age, I should have felt the rod for such a speech, aye, or such a look, either. There, go to the school-room and keep your sisters in order, while Mrs. Evans remains here to send in the refreshments. The child does put me past patience with her airs," she added, as Paulina departed, with the look of one going to the stake. "Just think of her taking upon her to lecture her own godmother, my old Aunt Norton, as good a woman as ever breathed, because the poor old lady took her knitting upon Ash-Wednesday!"

"Yet Mrs. Paulina seems, too, as if she were trying to do right," said Winifred. "I do not understand it."

"Oh! Trying to do right. One may try too much, in my opinion. I have no fancy for these over-righteous people. But there is the knocker, and I must go. I trust all to you, my dear. I am sure all will go well."

Fortunately all did go well, until just as the last tray of sweetmeats was sent in, when Phyllis, with a scared, pale face, peeped into the little store-room.

"Please, Mrs. Evans, will you come up to the school-room? We can't do anything with Betty."

"What is the matter, and why should you do anything with Betty?" asked Winifred. "Have you been teasing your little sister again, Phyllis?"

"I am sure we did not mean anything," said Phyllis, looking very much ashamed, "only she is so cross. But Paulina needn't have shook her so. But please, Mrs. Evans, do hurry, before madam hears Betty!"

Winifred looked about her to see that everything was safe, and then hurried up to the school-room. As she opened the green baize door, she was startled by hearing a shriek from Betty very different from her usual scream of passion—an unmistakable cry of pain. She opened the school-room door. Betty stood in the corner of the room, with both hands pressed to her side, sobbing at every breath, and shrieking at every third respiration. Jemima was trying to pacify her, while Paulina sat in the window, endeavoring very unsuccessfully to appear unconscious of what was going on. In an instant Winifred saw that something serious was the matter.

"Come here to me, Betty!" she said, in her gentle tone of authority. "Mrs. Paulina, open the window at once—throw the casement wide. Phyllis, run and bring a glass of wine and some cool water; you will find them in the store-room. Jemima, come and unloose your sister's stays and gown while I hold her in the fresh air."

"Really, Mrs. Evans," began Paulina, but a louder cry from Betty stopped her words, and the child's head sank back upon her friend's shoulder.

"She is dead!" shrieked the twins.

"No; I think she has only fainted," said Winifred, trying to speak calmly, though she was herself alarmed at the child's ghastly appearance. "Paulina, did not Lady Corbet say that a doctor from London was to be among the guests?"

But Paulina, pale as death and trembling in every limb, could remember nothing.

"She did, I know," said Phyllis, who possessed more ready wit and presence of mind than all the rest together. "Doctor Mercer was his name."

"Very well. Now I am going to lay Betty upon the window seat, where the fresh air will blow upon her. Do you, Phyllis, bathe her face with the strong waters, and, Jemima, fan her. Be steady and quiet like sensible girls till I come back."

The twins, quieted by the trust imposed upon them, promised to obey, and Winifred was soon at the drawing-room door, asking to speak to Lady Corbet.

"Why, what has happened, child? You are as white as your cap! You have not broken the great standing china bowl, have you?"

"No, madam!" said Winifred, hardly able to suppress a smile even there, to see how the good lady's housekeeping instinct came uppermost. "But Betty has fainted, and I fear she is going to be very ill. Will you please come and bring the doctor with you?"

On ordinary occasions, when annoyed, Lady Corbet was as fussy and flustered as an old hen, but any real emergency always made her quiet and sensible at once.

"Ah, poor child! Hath she had another swoon? Pray go back to her, Mrs. Winifred, and I will bring the doctor directly."

Winifred hurried back as desired, and found that Betty had revived, but was still in great pain, unable to draw a long breath or to move. Phyllis was supporting her in an upright position as well as she could, and Jemima was fanning her, while Paulina had thrown herself upon the floor in the farthest corner of the room, and was leaning her head upon a chair.

"O Mrs. Evans, help me! Don't let me die!" gasped the poor child. "Oh! Am I dying?"

"I trust not, my dear. Do not be alarmed!" said Winifred, cheerfully. "See, you are better already, and here is your mother with the good doctor from London. Now be a good maid, and do as you are bid, and I trust all will be well."

"What's this? The window open, and the air blowing in the child's face!" exclaimed Lady Corbet, who had all the dread of fresh air natural to an Englishwoman of the time, or indeed of any time.

"Of course! Where should it blow?" returned the doctor, roughly but not unkindly. "When people are gasping for breath, they need fresh air, though I wonder how my young mistress came by sense enough to give it to her. Hold her more upright still—ah! That will do. Let me have your hand, my little girl. Ah! I see. Have you given her anything?" sharply to Winifred.

"Nothing," said Winifred. "I sent for some wine, but she had fainted before it came."

"Just as well. She must have an anodyne at once. Bring me some syrup, a spoon, and water."

"In the store-room, Phyllis!" said Winifred. "Quickly, my dear."

Phyllis was back almost before the words were spoken, and the doctor prepared the anodyne with his own hands. There had always been a great struggle to make Betty take medicine, but her own alarm and distress and the ascendency Winifred had already obtained over her rendered her docile.

"Now, she must be put to bed, and kept absolutely quiet," said the doctor. "This young lady—I have not the honor of knowing her name—seems to have her wits at her fingers' ends. Let her stay with the child and sit up with her to-night. You, madam, keep the house very quiet. I am to be in town some days, and I will look in upon you again in the morning."

"What causes these attacks, doctor?" asked Lady Corbet, after Betty had left the room.

"Heart disease," answered Doctor Mercer, briefly. "I am sorry to shock you, madam, but it is but right you should know, in order to guard against them, since every paroxysm she has is just so much ground lost. With care, she may outgrow them, but she is likely enough to die in any one. You must avoid all cause of excitement with her; never let her be struck or shaken; above all, taken roughly by the left arm. One such shock may be fatal."

Paulina, in her dark corner, buried her face deeper at these words, as she remembered how sharply she had shaken Betty by that very arm, and how thin and fragile it had felt in her grasp. The twins heard it also as they clung together in the window, and promised each other in whispers that they would never, no, never tease Betty again, no matter what she did, if God would only spare her this time.

"And what about this fever, doctor, that they say is in the town? Can one do anything to keep it off by fumigations or the like?"

"The best way to keep it off is to use plenty of air and cleanliness," replied Doctor Mercer, who was so far in advance of his age as to be accounted almost a heretic by his learned brethren. "Use good food in moderation, and see that your work-people and the poor about you have the same, and leave the rest to God."

"But you will come and see my poor Betty again in the morning?" urged the anxious mother.

"To be sure! I said so. By the way, who is this young gentlewoman who seems to understand herself so well? A kinswoman of your own?"

"Nay, I cannot call her a kinswoman exactly, though she is a connection of my cousin Margaret, Lady Peckham of Holford, and was indeed partly brought up by her," answered Lady Corbet, who never failed to sport the Peckhams of Holford on every possible occasion. "Her father was captain of a vessel sailing from this port, and son of a Somersetshire yeoman of good estate, but her mother was daughter to a Devonshire gentleman of very old family. She is daily governess to my daughters, and I am so much pleased with her that I think of taking her into my house altogether."

"So she is an orphan?" said the doctor. "Well, madam, follow my directions, and I trust all will be well, but above all keep the house quiet. I will not answer for consequences should the child be suddenly awakened."

"Well, maidens, you have heard what the good doctor has said," said Lady Corbet. "Let me see how quiet you can be. I must say you have behaved well and shown yourselves sensible girls. But where is Paulina?"

"Here, madam!" said Paulina, lifting her pale, tear-stained face from the chair on which it had been hidden; and then, throwing herself at her mother's feet, she exclaimed, in a suppressed voice: "It was all my fault, mother—all, all! Beat me if you will or turn me out of the house, for I deserve it all!"

"Hush, hush, child! It is a good thing to own your fault, and I am glad to see it, but don't go into hysterics, and wake your poor sister. Phyllis, you can tell a straight story. Let me hear an account of the whole from you."

There did not seem to be so very much to tell. The twins had been teasing Betty with rough play, while Paulina was reading as usual in her corner. Finally Betty fell over a footstool against Paulina, and knocked her book out of her hand. Betty cried out.

"And then," concluded Phyllis, "Paulina shook her hard, and slapped her shoulders two or three times with the book, to make her stop screaming. Then when she would not stop, Paulina set her in the corner, and shook her again. Then I was frightened because Betty looked so bad, and I ran and called Mrs. Evans."

"It is all true!" said Paulina, between her sobs. "I have killed the child! It was all my wicked temper because you sent me up-stairs. I have done all the mischief."

Lady Corbet was amazed. It was the first time Paulina, had ever accused herself of a fault. She administered lectures and pardons all round, was certain they would never be so bad again, sent for some of the relics of the banquet to make them a feast, and, when it was plain that Paulina could not eat, made her a cup of tea (then a very uncommon luxury), and sent her to bed to sleep off her headache.