Читать книгу William and His Uncle Ben. A Tale Designed for the Use of Young People - Барбара Хофланд - Страница 6

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William might have indulged his sorrow for the loss of his generous and considerate uncle much longer, if he had not also been a generous and considerate boy, capable of controlling his feelings at the command of his duties. He soon perceived, that although his sick father was a little relieved by the change of air and scene, yet that he was still in a drooping state; and as time hung heavy on his hands since he had no employment, he was the more apt to become languid and anxious; so that what he gained by the climate, he lost from care and solicitude about his family.

To alleviate this misfortune, his wife put on the most cheerful air she could assume, and the girls endeavoured to employ and amuse his mind, by playing or reading to him; while William, with equal kindness of intention, endeavoured to lead him into attention to his own studies—a plan that was attended with considerable success. Mr. Denham was a good linguist, had travelled much before he was married, and was a man of considerable reading; and when he was engaged in relating his past observations to his family circle, or in explaining some grammatical nicety to his promising boy, he could forget his past misfortunes and his present complaints, and for a short time at least appear well and happy.

As all the English then resident in Paris and its neighbourhood were proverbially extravagant, and their residence had made the place much more expensive than our humble friends expected to find it, they soon felt it a duty to exchange the lodgings they had taken at Passy, for some of a more humble description. Mr. Denham judged it wise to go into the city, as a place where it was possible that he might prosecute some business, or procure some employment; and from William being so busy with languages, Mr. Denham was led to think of giving instruction in the English tongue, and the German, to which he was fully competent.

This scheme answered extremely well in one respect—it introduced them to several very respectable French families, from whom they received great kindness, and whose conversation improved them in the pronunciation of French. They desired to avoid society with their own countrymen at this time, because they did not wish to expose their poverty, and from them they could not expect assistance in procuring pupils.

William was very much pleased with the fine sights he saw in Paris, for a very little money in some cases, and in others for none at all; and in frequenting the Louvre, he soon acquired not only the purest accent, from listening to the conversation of artists and men of taste, who, like himself, were admiring the pictures, but also much knowledge. He was always so modest, yet so intelligent, that every person who saw him had pleasure in giving him information; and as all Frenchmen are naturally communicative, it might be truly said that poor William found in their society that living library, which supplied to him those books he was not now in a situation to procure.

Mr. Denham passed his first winter in Paris tolerably; but the second happening to be rather severe, he could not help thinking that he should have been better in London. The staircases admitted such a current of air, the windows and doors were so ill made, when compared to those of England, and fuel was so very dear, that many times did they all wish themselves back again; but the remembrance of the great expense it would be to settle again in London, and the hope that something would be done in the spring, prevented them from making the attempt.

Mr. Denham, conscious that his brother Gardiner's kind boon must now be drawing to an end, went out to give lessons, before the weather was by any means so mild as it ought to have been for one so delicate; in consequence of which he got a severe cold, and became utterly unable to prosecute his employment any further. William, thinking that, young as he was, yet he was equal to finishing the course of lessons his father had begun, after a great struggle with his modest fears, at length ventured to offer himself; and although rejected in several instances, had the happiness to be received in two respectable families, to his great satisfaction.

One of these families was that of the Countess de Canillac, who was the mother of two little girls, whom she was desirous of rendering good English scholars, because she had relations of that country. She had consented to receive the son of their late master, on the supposition that he was a young man; but when she saw William, who was scarcely fourteen, and though a tall, yet very slight boy, with all the simplicity of his years marked on his countenance, she absolutely started, and told him she feared her volatile girls would never take lessons with due gravity from a person so nearly their own age.—"You should have sent your eldest brother," said she, "my pretty boy."

"I have no brother, madam," said William; "but I have a sister four years older than myself, and she is very good and very clever."

"Well, send your sister—I shall prefer her undoubtedly to you."

This introduction to the gentle and well-instructed Elizabeth, proved of permanent advantage to her and to her family, for the Countess was a woman of sense and discernment, of amiable manners and benevolent heart. The more she saw of Elizabeth, the more she was pleased with her; and in a short time she made her the offer of becoming governess to her little girls—a situation which was gratefully accepted.

The other family where William entered as a teacher, was that of Monsieur Dwyer, a wealthy merchant, who had taken lessons for his improvement in the English language as a commercial man. He had no hesitation in accepting William as a master, because he thought a boy who addressed him in such pure French, could hardly fail to be master of his mother tongue. The consequence of this intercourse produced William a steady friend; and although the lessons did not last long, they were paid for liberally; and Monsieur Dwyer always insisted that he should frequently call at his house, and apply to him as a friend on any emergency.

Alas! the time came very soon when this afflicted family wanted a friend, in the fullest sense of the word. Mr. Denham's complaint became decidedly severe, and, in fact, incurable, although it did not appear so to himself and family; and as he experienced great relief when the weather was warm, and much oppression and weakness when it was cold, they all concluded very naturally, that if he could remove to Italy, or even Nice, he would soon recover his health, and be quite restored.

Every person who has attended the sick in any lingering disease, well knows that when any prevalent idea takes possession of their minds, it haunts them with an harassing and feverish effect, alike injurious to their own health, and distressing to all around them. This is particularly the case when, like poor Mr. Denham, they are persons who have been active in life, and who are anxious to benefit those they love. Day after day, and night after night, did this worthy father sigh for the power of removing, under the full persuasion that he should soon be perfectly well; and as soon as fine weather really appeared, his impatience became excessive.

Mrs. Denham was not less anxious on the subject than himself, and she had left no means untried to accomplish an event she deemed so important to them all. With the fullest attention to all the cravings of her dear husband's fastidious appetite, she had yet abridged herself and her family as much as it was possible; yet her means for their future subsistence were so much reduced, as to forbid all power of entering on a long expensive journey. She had drawn from the person in England, one hundred and twenty pounds only, of the two hundred Lieutenant Gardiner permitted her to demand; and when on the present emergency she asked for the remainder, it was refused, and the refusal accompanied by the afflicting intelligence, "that the last time her brother was heard of, he had been left ill of the yellow fever in the West India Islands, and as it was most probable that he was dead, no more money could be advanced on his account."

Very bitter were the tears shed by every member of the family when this sad news was read; but it only rendered them the more anxious to preserve that dear father who remained to them, and whom every succeeding day, now the weather was settled, made more sanguine. Poor William was anxious to the utmost degree to obtain pupils, as his only means of assistance to the family; but as there were now abundance of teachers, he had little chance. Elizabeth was the only one who could offer even a little money, but her salary was wholly at the service of her parents; and when the Countess, her kind patroness, learnt their desire to travel, she kindly insisted that their youngest daughter should become her guest during their absence.

"And I can live on nothing, dear mother," said William, when the arrangements were making, "and I can travel on foot."

"We shall soon hear from your uncle Denham, my love," replied the mother; "and then we can set off with comfort; we have no occasion to be in a hurry, as the weather is delightful now."

With anxious eyes did the whole family look out for that letter, on which they taught themselves to believe that all their future happiness depended; it was their consolation to believe, that as it was now neither the season for field sports, nor agricultural labours, his answer would be forwarded much sooner than usual.

The letter came at last, but, alas! it was unaccompanied by any enclosure, and contained only these words:

"Dear Brother,

"It was always against my mind that you went into foreign parts, where I will never believe either sun or air can be better than Old England; therefore as to encouraging you to proceed further, it is what I never shall do. I hope you will come home soon, so that if you die, you may be buried like a Christian—'tis what we must all come to—my Vixen died last winter, and Fury is almost gone, so is my housekeeper. I have had the gout in both legs myself. So, with love to the children, I am, &c. &c."

Little did the writer of this letter, in the calm apathy which wealth and ease are so apt to create, imagine the sorrow it inspired, the hopes it quenched, the deep anguish it awakened. The invalid felt as if a death-blow were given, not only to his health and his wishes, but even his affections; and the children were loud in their complaints and revilings.

Mrs. Denham struggled with herself and with them, endeavouring to repress the sorrow she felt, and to pray against the anger arising in her bosom. She observed—"That this letter must teach them all to look more to God and less to man, for what they needed;" and said, "she did not doubt before winter arrived, some friend would arise, more kind than him they had vainly solicited. Yet, my dear children," added she, "we must not indulge sentiments of reproach towards your uncle; he is a man who has seen little of the world, and in his ignorance of it, thinks that there is nothing good out of his own circle; that which he denies to your father he would deny to himself; it is not so much his fault as his misfortune, that his ideas are so narrow, and his conduct so illiberal."