AN OBSTINATE WOMAN
Joan Frobisher was warmly received at the parsonage by the
rector and his wife, for with them she had ever been a prime
favourite. Sibyll they endured and made allowances for; but Joan
they loved.
She was in time for their early dinner, which had been
postponed for half an hour on that day, so as to enable her to
dine with them.
"You have left us in the dark; you disappeared into space
without informing us whither you were going," said Mrs. Barker. "Now tell us everything about your doings and where you have been, for you know how deeply and warmly we are interested in you. We spent an infinity of trouble and much time over the postmark this morning, when your letter reached us. The rector got out his magnifying glass—he looked, I looked, so did Mr. Prendergast and Sibyll, but failed to make out anything."
"Joan," said the younger of the sisters, striking in before
the other could answer, "Joan has been engaged scouring the
country in quest of a house, and has at length discovered one
near the moors, that she thinks will suit us."
"Where? Which moors? What is the name of the parish?" asked
the rector.
"That is, unfortunately, what I am obliged to leave you in
ignorance about," said Joan.
"You see," put in Sibyll, "till we are established in our new
quarters, and till I know that the air and the neighbourhood will
agree with me, we do not wish to be regarded as permanently
settled."
"And," added Joan, "we desire to be very, very quiet this
winter."
"That could not well happen," said Sibyll, "if it were known
where we were. Our many friends about Pendabury are certain to
have relations and acquaintances in that part, and would impress
on them the obligation to call on us. So Joan and I have put our
heads together, and have agreed to keep dark as to where we shall
perch, till we have quite made up our minds to nest there."
"Well, you know best," said Mrs. Barker. "But consider that
everyone will be inquiring about you, and that of us; and it
seems strange, and it will be embarrassing to have to reply to
querists that we do not know where you are. Ask people will, for
you are general favourites, and much sympathy has been felt for
you."
"Dear Mrs. Barker," said Joan, "none can appreciate this
sympathy more than do my sister and myself. We have undergone a
great shock—the sudden death of our father—and before we had
recovered from that, there came a second—the loss of all that he
had laid by for our maintenance in comfort. We have been called
upon to quit our old home, to break old ties, relax old
associations, and we need quiet in which to fit ourselves to our
altered circumstances, and form our habits to the new mode of
life to which Providence calls us. Put yourself in our place. When you have received a stunning blow, is it not the best of all medicines to be left absolutely undisturbed?"
"I daresay that you are right," said the rector, "but you will
be beset by inquirers so long as you are here. Every old tenant
on the estate, every poor cottager in the parish, will ask, 'Well, miss, and where to be you going?' You will find it a hard matter to put them off."
"But, Mr. Barker, I do not propose to remain here and trespass
on your hospitality more than three nights—allowing myself just
sufficient time to run round and say good-bye to our village
friends. I shall manage somehow to put them off as to our
destination. Their acquaintance with geography is not so
extensive but that it will enable me to puzzle them."
Both the rector and his wife exclaimed against so early a
departure, but Joan persisted in her determination.
"I have taken a cottage and furnished it," she said, "and have
left it vacant."
"But have you not engaged a servant?" asked Sibylla, somewhat
taken aback.
"If I had I could not have left her alone. But I have not; and
so, as my house is empty and all my new things are unprotected, I
must return as soon as I possibly can."