CHAPTER VI.
LADY AUGUSTA YORKE AT HOME.
"If you don't put away that trash, Caroline, and go upstairs and
practise, I'll make you go! Strewing the table in that manner! Look
what a pickle the room is in!"
The words came from Lady Augusta Yorke, a tall, dark woman, with high
cheek-bones; and they were spoken at a height that might not have been
deemed orthodox at court. Miss Caroline Yorke, a young demoiselle, with
a "net" that was more frequently off her head than on it, slip-shod
shoes, and untidy stockings, had placed a quantity of mulberry leaves
on the centre table, and a silkworm on each leaf. She leisurely
proceeded with her work, bringing forth more silkworms from her paper
trays, paying not the least attention to her mother. Lady Augusta
advanced, and treated her to a slight tap on the ear, her favourite
mode of correcting her children.
"Now, mamma! What's that for?"
"Do you hear me, you disobedient child? I will have this rubbish put
away, I say. Goodness, Martha! don't bring any one in here!" broke off
Lady Augusta, as a maid appeared, showing in a visitor. "Oh, it is you,
William! I don't mind you. Come in."
It was the Reverend William Yorke who entered. He was not altogether a
favourite of Lady Augusta's. Though only distantly related to her late
husband, he yet bore the name of Yorke; and when he came to
Helstonleigh (for he was not a native of the place), and became a
candidate for a vacant minor canonry, Lady Augusta's pride had taken
fire.
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