Miss Mackenzie. Anthony Trollope
could pass a bishop's examination. His friends told him of Islington and St. Bees, of Durham, Birkenhead, and other places where the thing could be done for him; but he hesitated, fearing whether he might be able to pass even the initiatory gates of Islington. He was a good young man, at peace with all the world—except Mr. Startup. With Mr. Startup the veracious chronicler does not dare to assert that Mr. Frigidy was at peace. Now Mr. Startup was the other young man whom Miss Mackenzie saw in that room.
Mr. Startup was also a very good young man, but he was of a fiery calibre, whereas Frigidy was naturally mild. Startup was already an open-air preacher, whereas Frigidy lacked nerve to speak a word above his breath. Startup was not a clergyman because certain scruples impeded and prevented him, while in the bosom of Frigidy there existed no desire so strong as that of having the word reverend attached to his name. Startup, though he was younger than Frigidy, could talk to seven ladies at once with ease, but Frigidy could not talk to one without much assistance from that lady herself. The consequence of this was that Mr. Frigidy could not bring himself to love Mr. Startup—could not enable himself to justify a veracious chronicler in saying that he was at peace with all the world, Startup included.
The ladies were too many for Miss Mackenzie to notice them specially as she sat listening to Mr. Maguire's impressive voice. Mr. Maguire she did notice, and found him to be the possessor of a good figure, of a fine head of jet black hair, of a perfect set of white teeth, of whiskers which were also black and very fine, but streaked here and there with a grey hair—and of the most terrible squint in his right eye which ever disfigured a face that in all other respects was fitted for an Apollo. So egregious was the squint that Miss Mackenzie could not keep herself from regarding it, even while Mr. Stumfold was expounding. Had she looked Mr. Maguire full in the face at the beginning, I do not think it would so much have mattered to her; but she had seen first the back of his head, and then his profile, and had unfortunately formed a strong opinion as to his almost perfect beauty. When, therefore, the defective eye was disclosed to her, her feelings were moved in a more than ordinary manner. How was it that a man graced with such a head, with such a mouth and chin and forehead, nay, with such a left eye, could be cursed with such a right eye! She was still thinking of this when the frisky movement into the tea-room took place around her.
When at this moment Mr. Stumfold offered her his arm to conduct her through the folding doors, this condescension on his part almost confounded her. The other ladies knew that he always did so to a newcomer, and therefore thought less of it. No other gentleman took any other lady, but she was led up to a special seat—a seat of honour as it were, at the left hand side of a huge silver kettle. Immediately before the kettle sat Mrs. Stumfold. Immediately before another kettle, at another table, sat Miss Peters, a sister of Mrs. Stumfold's. The back drawing-room in which they were congregated was larger than the other, and opened behind into a pretty garden. Mr. Stumfold's lines in falling thus among the Peters, had fallen to him in pleasant places. On the other side of Miss Mackenzie sat Miss Baker, and on the other side of Mrs. Stumfold stood Mr. Startup, talking aloud and administering the full tea-cups with a conscious grace. Mr. Stumfold and Mr. Frigidy were at the other table, and Mr. Maguire was occupied in passing promiscuously from one to the other. Miss Mackenzie wished with all her heart that he would seat himself somewhere with his face turned away from her, for she found it impossible to avert her eyes from his eye. But he was always there, before her sight, and she began to feel that he was an evil spirit—her evil spirit, and that he would be too many for her.
Before anybody else was allowed to begin, Mrs. Stumfold rose from her chair with a large and completely filled bowl of tea, with a plate also laden with buttered toast, and with her own hands and on her own legs carried these delicacies round to her papa. On such an occasion as this no servant, no friend, no Mr. Startup, was allowed to interfere with her filial piety.
"She does it always," said an admiring lady in an audible whisper from the other side of Miss Baker. "She does it always."
The admiring lady was the wife of a retired coachbuilder, who was painfully anxious to make her way into good evangelical society at Littlebath.
"Perhaps you will put in the sugar for yourself," said Mrs. Stumfold to Miss Mackenzie as soon as she returned. On this occasion Miss Mackenzie received her cup the first after the father of the house, but the words spoken to her were stern to the ear.
"Perhaps you will put in the sugar yourself. It lightens the labour."
Miss Mackenzie expressed her willingness to do so and regretted that Mrs. Stumfold should have to work so hard. Could she be of assistance?
"I'm quite used to it, thank you," said Mrs. Stumfold.
The words were not uncivil, but the tone was dreadfully severe, and Miss Mackenzie felt painfully sure that her hostess was already aware of the card that had been left at Miss Todd's door.
Mr. Startup was now actively at work.
"Lady Griggs's and Miss Fleebody's—I know. A great deal of sugar for her ladyship, and Miss Fleebody eats muffin. Mrs. Blow always takes pound-cake, and I'll see that there's one near her. Mortimer,"—Mortimer was the footman—"is getting more bread and butter. Maguire, you have two dishes of sweet biscuits over there; give us one here. Never mind me, Mrs. Stumfold; I'll have my innings presently."
All this Mr. Frigidy heard with envious ears as he sat with his own tea-cup before him at the other table. He would have given the world to have been walking about the room like Startup, making himself useful and conspicuous; but he couldn't do it—he knew that he couldn't do it. Later in the evening, when he had been sitting by Miss Trotter for two hours—and he had very often sat by Miss Trotter before—he ventured upon a remark.
"Don't you think that Mr. Startup makes himself a little forward?"
"Oh dear yes, very," said Miss Trotter. "I believe he's an excellent young man, but I always did think him forward, now you mention it. And sometimes I've wondered how dear Mrs. Stumfold could like so much of it. But do you know, Mr. Frigidy, I am not quite sure that somebody else does like it. You know who I mean."
Miss Trotter said much more than this, and Mr. Frigidy was comforted, and believed that he had been talking.
When Mrs. Stumfold commenced her conversation with Mr. Startup, Miss Baker addressed herself to Miss Mackenzie; but there was at first something of stiffness in her manner—as became a lady whose call had not been returned.
"I hope you like Littlebath," said Miss Baker.
Miss Mackenzie, who began to be conscious that she had done wrong, hesitated as she replied that she liked it pretty well.
"I think you'll find it pleasant," said Miss Baker; and then there was a pause. There could not be two women more fitted for friendship than were these, and it was much to be hoped, for the sake of our poor, solitary heroine especially, that this outside crust of manner might be broken up and dispersed.
"I dare say I shall find it pleasant, after a time," said Miss Mackenzie. Then they applied themselves each to her own bread and butter.
"You have not seen Miss Todd, I suppose, since I saw you?" Miss Baker asked this question when she perceived that Mrs. Stumfold was deep in some secret conference with Mr. Startup. It must, however, be told to Miss Baker's credit, that she had persistently maintained her friendship with Miss Todd, in spite of all the Stumfoldian influences. Miss Mackenzie, at the moment less brave, looked round aghast, but seeing that her hostess was in deep conference with her prime minister, she took heart of grace. "I called, and I did not see her."
"She promised me she would call," said Miss Baker.
"And I returned her visit, but she wasn't at home," said Miss Mackenzie.
"Indeed," said Miss Baker; and then there was silence between them again.
But, after a pause, Miss Mackenzie again took heart of grace. I do not think that there was, of nature, much of the coward about her. Indeed, the very fact that she was there alone at Littlebath, fighting her own battle with the world, instead of having allowed herself to be swallowed up by the Harry Handcocks, and Tom Mackenzies, proved her to be anything but a coward. "Perhaps,