Читать книгу Moderation, A Tale - Барбара Хофланд - Страница 5

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When the Rector of Ravenhill arose from his breakfast table one spring morning in 18— and retired to his study, notwithstanding his three daughters were present, perfect silence reigned in the room until they were sensible that his library door was closed, and his steps directed to a certain bay window, which possessed the double advantage of seclusion from domestic sounds, and of a widely extended prospect over a beautiful country.

This silence did not proceed from awe, for to confess the truth, that was a quality the Rector was rather deemed deficient in his power of inspiring, being a man more generally loved than feared, both in the house and the parish;—but surprise, which is somewhat related to that emotion, he had undoubtedly awakened, as his eldest daughter, Harriet, indignantly announced by the observation which followed upon his removal.

"I cannot imagine how my father can think of such a thing as laying down the carriage—it strikes me as preposterous to the greatest degree—how can any body live in the country without a carriage? especially a person who has three daughters situated as we are."

Miss Carysford did not explain what she meant by the word situated, and it appeared that her sister Emma did not read it as meaning "young women seeking for establishments," for she observed in a soothing manner:

"It is because we are so situated, that my father deems it advisable to lessen his expenses, and secure us a continuance of our solid comforts. I thought his reasons very sufficient ones: every body knows that as Charles is of age, more than half his income is transferred to him from his taking possession of our dear mother's jointure; and we are ourselves well aware that from the style she always supported, it was impossible for him to save any thing hitherto to speak of; it is therefore a good time to begin, when the occasion is so evident as to proclaim its propriety."

"I don't think it right at all," said the eldest sister. "The action is right, but the intention grounded upon it is wrong," observed Sophia, the youngest.

"That I must deny," returned Harriet, "the action is decidedly ill-judged, because my father ought to maintain the respectability of his family, and his own rank in life; but the intention is, like every thing he does, kind and disinterested, considerate and affectionate."

"Poor man! his worldly cares are indeed abundant for his children, but how much better would it be if he directed them to those beyond the grave; had he proposed to lay down the carriage, and appropriate the income thereby saved to the London Missionary Society, then indeed he would have acted worthy of the name he bears as a minister of Christ; but to do it, that he may add 'house to house, and field to field,' that he may 'increase the mammon of unrighteousness,' in my opinion is quite dreadful."

"Ridiculous! you are Missionary mad—if the coach is to be given up, I would advise that the pannels should make you a cell, and the linings a strait waistcoat—that would be a family benefit."

"Better it were I should be so situated, than enter with you, Miss Carysford, into that place 'where the worm dieth not, and the fire is not quenched,'—that place, where there shall be 'instead of a girdle, a rent; instead of well set hair, baldness; and burning instead of beauty.'"

With these words, slowly and emphatically pronounced, with the air of a maledictory prophecy, Sophia, taking up a number of pamphlets which she had been reading, left the room. As Miss Carysford was an acknowledged beauty, and gave to her person all the cares and the advantages which belong to ladies holding that rank in creation, every syllable had its immediate reference, and excited such violent anger as to give her fine but infuriated countenance the character of a 'burning beauty,' even now. She protested (with a good deal of truth undoubtedly) that "Sophia was the most provoking creature that ever existed, a disgrace to the family, a pest in the village, a canker that was eating out the very heart of her father, and a person in short who ought to be turned out of the house, as unworthy its countenance and protection."

Having so spoken during a rapid promenade round the breakfast parlour, Harriet threw herself on a sofa, wiped the few tears which scalded her cheeks, and looked earnestly towards Emma as if for answer or observation; but since neither occurred, she added, "can you say a word in her behalf? a single word?"

"She is very sincere, very conscientious, if we do not approve her zeal, nor partake her feelings, we must do justice to her principles, my dear Harriet."

"Umph! her sincerity consists in abusing every body under the precious pretext of caring for their souls, her zeal, in passing sentence of condemnation on every human being out of the pale of those vulgar wretches with whom she has associated herself—her principles instigate her, most blasphemously (as I call it) to quote the scriptures on the most trifling and irrelevant occasions; to mix the most sacred and profane things irreverently—to drain the pence from starving cottagers, in furtherance of some chimerical scheme one day, and the next to strip herself for some worthless object of charity, as to be left in a poverty disgraceful to us all. Does she not class my father himself with the ignorant, the bigoted? is he not 'a proud priest,' 'an idle watchman,' 'a blind guide', and give him a thousand other such appellations?—and is this to be borne from a girl of nineteen? No! my father ought not to suffer it, we are all wrong to submit to her insults, her cold-hearted, unfeeling, intolerant."—Perhaps it was the want of another epithet which checked this effusion of wrath; it was at least evident to Emma, that her sister did not cease to think because she ceased to complain and resent; for she was still agitated—but, as her passions were generally short-lived, advancing rapidly to maturity, and being subject to sudden death, Emma waited for that important moment before she ventured to say a word for the party arraigned, when she observed:

"If my father, as the head of his house, and the pastor of a flock, can put up with the peculiarities of poor Sophia, in consideration of her pure good meaning, and her many good qualities, to say nothing of those ties which bind us all to each other indissolubly, surely we are bound to endure them, sister? to use her own language, she is frequently 'a cross to us,' but we can have no doubt that it is our duty to bear it."

"It is very well for you, who are a kind of half methodist, half philosopher, to reason in that way, but I have not been accustomed to vulgar associations, or inured to low notions. I can neither forget whose daughter I am, nor what society I have mixed with, though you may do it, having undoubtedly something wherewith to comfort you to which your elder sister cannot pretend."

"That difference is very trifling, Harriet."

"It is however sufficient were it properly applied, to prevent us from the mortification my father contemplates, and which will vex Charles excessively, and be a cruel reflection on him, in my opinion, not that I expect any sacrifice from you—calm, moderate, calculating, people of your description seldom do wrong it is true, but we must not expect such still waters to rise above their own level, to overflow generously."

Emma did not reply, but she arose a few minutes afterwards, and announced an intention of calling on a friend in the village, who was unwell and in trouble, enquiring if Harriet would accompany her.

"No, I cannot go, but I am glad you are going, for you will do them all good, poor things."

And when Emma had closed the door, and departed on her errand of kindness, Harriet wondered how it had been possible to use one word of reproach, one tone of ill humour, towards a sister so gentle, yet so active, and whose heart she well knew to be as ardent in affection, as generous in action, as that of any human being, notwithstanding the assertion she had so lately made.

Whilst Emma proceeds to Thorpedale, we will give such a review of the history of the Carysford family, as may in some measure account for the difference of character observable in the female branches, desiring our readers to recollect, that notwithstanding the disputed points it was our misfortune to depict in the first instance, the persons in question were in high esteem among their neighbours and connections. They were all so handsome, that the hacknied epithet of "the graces," was applied with more propriety than usual to them among their visitants, and their humbler acquaintance usually designated them "as good as they were handsome." A pious and tender father, an elegant, highborn, and accomplished mother, had superintended their education, and it is certain, that their minds were cultivated, and their manners suasive in general; but in all houses there are rehearsals behind the scenes, in which the general give way to the individual traits of character, and the honest chronicler of human nature must give shadows as well as lights, in order to produce the portrait which truth will own, or that which it will be useful for us to contemplate.