Читать книгу Decision, A Tale - Барбара Хофланд - Страница 3
ОглавлениеCHAPTER I.
More than half a century has now elapsed, since a party assembled round the tea-table of Mrs. Falconer, were busy in commenting on the conduct, and lamenting the ruin of one of their acquaintance, once a wealthy manufacturer in the neighbouring town of B——.
The topic was discussed, (as such things usually are) with different views of the case, according to the original characters, or the relative situations of the speakers, nearly all of whom had in their own persons, or their connections, some sympathies with the party, except the lady of the house, whose attention was at this moment given rather to the hospitable attentions due to her guests, than the subject of their discussion; but her little daughter, a child of about eleven years old, who was generally too much of a romp to confine herself in the drawing room, yet too intelligent to suffer any thing interesting to escape her when there, was observed to glance her bright eye from one speaker to another, and shake back the profusion of long ringlets which covered her neck, with an eagerness to catch every sound, that indicated how much her mind was employed on the subject.
"Mr. Williams was imprudent, he trusted the house of Burns and Son too far, lost a great deal, and could never recover it," said one.
"How should he?" said another, "since the expenses of his family were not lessened, and they were just at that period, when young people are inevitably expensive."
"Yes, indeed—they kept much company, dressed well, and were seen every where," observed a third—"Had Mrs. Williams been prudent, I think something might have been done to save them from this total overthrow."
"Poor woman!" exclaimed a Mrs. Brice, who was herself the mother of a large family, "what could she do I wonder? whilst we live in the world, we must mix with the world; and the petty savings she could have made by any system of more rigid economy, at a time when her young people were forming connections, and getting out in the world, could not overbalance the remarks to which she would have subjected them—indeed such conduct would have injured her husband's credit, and brought on his ruin sooner."
"So much the better," said several gentlemen; but the lady continued her assertions.
"Say what you please, but there are a thousand little things one must do, and must have, which strictly speaking, are not necessary—every wife must seek to sustain her husband's credit; every mother must set off her children, and see them maintain their due rank in society; to my own knowledge, Mrs. Williams was a good manager, and never spent a guinea, or ventured on any extra expenditure, but where it was imperatively called for."
The warmth and feeling with which this was uttered, by a woman who was a model of propriety in her own conduct, silenced, even where it did not convince, and murmuring sounds of pity were succeeding those of blame, when a cynical bachelor who had not yet spoken, cried out in a tone yet more decisive than the lady's,
"Fiddle faddle!—there is no thing imperative but duty."
In another moment, the lately ebbing flow of words returned, and amounted almost to clamourous opposition of Mr. Elderton's assertion, "it is fine talking!" "what can a bachelor know about a family?" "harsh judgments ill become the fortunate," were heard on all sides, and so many condemnatory sentences, and more condemnatory glances, were thrown on the gentleman, that he became an object of pity to the child, who repeated his words over to herself to examine whether they were in themselves offensive, or rendered so by the sharp, and somewhat contemptuous tone in which they were uttered—the result of this examination induced her to believe that the sentiment was right, for it accorded with all her mamma had taught her—she drew near to his chair, and after a short hesitation, said—"then what ought Mr. and Mrs. Williams to have done?"
Mr. Elderton was not aware from whom the soft female voice proceeded, but he answered with that quickness, and promptitude, which rendered his manners too frequently unpleasant. "Since they had lost money and become poor, they should have resolved at once to seem poor, have reduced their establishment, directed the views of their children to situations more humble, but of course more easily attained, by which means, they would have secured assistance from their industry, instead of increased expense from their unwarranted accomplishments. They should have stepped down a little lower in life, until they were able to regain their place honourably, instead of holding it in misery by ruinous expedients, until they were thrown far, far below it."
When Mr. Elderton ceased speaking, he became aware who had been his questioner, and that the smile of derision had banished the frown of anger from several countenances. Sensible that he had spoken in too grave a tone, when replying to so young and playful a querist, his countenance changed, he drew her kindly towards him, and said, half whisperingly, "well Maria, how much of my long speech do you remember?"
"I remember it all, tho' I can't repeat it."
"And how much of it do you understand?"
"A great deal, sir; and I hope—I intend"——
"To listen to my advice—hey?"
"Indeed I do—I will say to myself every morning, 'duty is imperative.'"
"Very good—but Maria, pray what are the imperative duties, which you are, I take it, at this very moment prescribing to that little curious heart of yours?"
Maria's countenance answered in the first instance by a deep blush, but on casting her eyes around, and perceiving that every person was engaged with talking, or tea-drinking, her tongue also found the power of reply, and she answered,
"I think it is my duty not to lament dear Sharon-Lacey, in Ireland, and the pretty gardens, and the hounds, and the people—and not to run about so wildly—nor play by ear instead of notes, and to take more pains in reading French."
"And how will you manage to fulfil this very good catalogue of your present duties?"
"How? why by setting a good resolution, by doing every thing in the world that can make my mamma happy. Is that the meaning of all you said?"
"Precisely—you have given even a better comment, than Trim's on the fifth commandment, upon my opinion—ha, ha, ha! you are a good girl, a very good girl, I will teach you German next year, you shall read Goëthe and Gesner some time, that you shall, Maria."
Mr. Elderton's mother was a German; as a merchant, his connections lay principally in that country, to which he had long made annual visits, and for which he was thought to have an over-weening partiality. Maria had learnt sufficient of these circumstances, to make her aware, that, in his opinion, the praise given was high, and the offer made valuable, and she was at that happy age when all such offers are literally construed; she thanked him eagerly and warmly—placing, as she spoke, both her hands in his, by way of sealing the contract, as well as claiming the promise; for she conceived, though she could not define it, an idea that she was to fulfil her own duties according to her own sense of them, and to be rewarded by the friendship, and the instruction of Mr. Elderton.
The party around, and indeed the whole circle of their acquaintance, would have said poor Elderton, a confirmed bachelor, with harsh features, repelling voice, stiff curled queu wig, full suit of buckram-lined brown, and a whole train of foreign peculiarities, and unbending brusquerie about him, was the last man on earth to attach a child—especially a child of Maria's description; a gay, spoilt, laughter-loving little Hebe, with all the naivetè and untamed drollery of a wild Irish girl, tempered alone by that ardent sensibility of nature, and enthusiastic love of her parents, which might be supposed to render the cold lessons and severe countenance of her grave friend peculiarly appalling.
Yet it is certain that from this time Maria did hold Mr. Elderton's memory in most affectionate respect—she was insensibly flattered, by thinking that he thought her worthy a rational answer, and feeling the force of his assertions. She was a child of strong mind and vivid conceptions. Till within a few months, she might have been said to exist only on her heart, which had expanded its young and glowing affections on every living thing in its circle, which were loved and nourished by her with an intensity of regard, that made her soon acquainted not less with sorrow, than joy. But at this period, her mind was claiming to be heard also, the change of situation, the increase of company, and the distinctness of character that company bore; above all, the diminished stile of her father's household, and the frequent solicitude on her mother's mild countenance, alike led her to think. It is, however, certain that no previous circumstance or conversation, had ever induced so many reflections in Maria's mind, as those of the present evening, and there were times when she was on the point of saying to her mother—"Why have we only two men instead of five? and two horses instead of four?—is it the custom in England for gentlemen to have counting houses, instead of hunting parties, or are we beginning to be poor like Mr. Williams?" but unbounded tenderness, and intuitive delicacy forbade her to speak, and she happily turned her meditations to those objects in her own education, which a prudent and elegant mother was constantly pointing out to her attention.
