To Hepzibah’s blunt observation, therefore, Phœbe replied as frankly, and more cheerfully.
“Dear cousin, I cannot tell how it will be,” said she. “But I really think we may suit one another much better than you suppose.”
“You are a nice girl,—I see it plainly,” continued Hepzibah; “and it is not any question as to that point which makes me hesitate. But, Phœbe, this house of mine is but a melancholy place for a young person to be in. It lets in the wind and rain, and the snow, too, in the garret and upper chambers, in winter-time, but it never lets in the sunshine. And as for myself, you see what I am,—a dismal and lonesome old woman (for I begin to call myself old, Phœbe), whose temper, I am afraid, is none of the best, and whose spirits are as bad as can be! I cannot make your life pleasant, Cousin Phœbe, neither can I so much as give you bread to eat.”
“You will find me a cheerful little body” answered Phœbe, smiling, and yet with a kind of gentle dignity, “and I mean to earn my bread. You know I have not been brought up a Pyncheon. A girl learns many things in a New England village.”
“Ah! Phœbe,” said Hepzibah, sighing, “your knowledge would do but little for you here! And then it is a wretched thought that you should fling away your young days in a place like this. Those cheeks would not be so rosy after a month or two. Look at my face!” and, indeed, the contrast was very striking,—“you see how pale I am! It is my idea that the dust and continual decay of these old houses are unwholesome for the lungs.”
“There is the garden,—the flowers to be taken care of,” observed Phœbe. “I should keep myself healthy with exercise in the open air.”
“And, after all, child,” exclaimed Hepzibah, suddenly rising, as if to dismiss the subject, “it is not for me to say who shall be a guest or inhabitant of the old Pyncheon House. Its master is coming.”
“Do you mean Judge Pyncheon?” asked Phœbe in surprise.
“Judge Pyncheon!” answered her cousin angrily. “He will hardly cross the threshold while I live! No, no! But, Phœbe, you shall see the face of him I speak of.”
She went in quest of the miniature already described, and returned with it in her hand. Giving it to Phœbe, she watched her features narrowly, and with a certain jealousy as to the mode in which the girl would show herself affected by the picture.