AN UNPLEASANT VISIT.
When Adele came back from shutting the door after Frank, her father
looked at her with a hard, scrutinizing gaze, but did not say a
word.
It was just like him. He very rarely spoke when he was angry; he
would mope about for whole days, his face covered with innumerable
wrinkles.
This anger on her father's part did not pain Adele so much as it had
formerly done. Her heart revolted at the thought of being always
made to bend under her father's stern will.
Like the terror-stricken few who would do battle for their rights,
but are awed by countless numbers, Adele had up to this time quietly
submitted to her father's iron rule; but now she felt inclined to
rebel.
Accordingly, instead of trying to coax her father into wearing his
ordinary face, which was none too pleasant, she pouted.
The old man noticed this and chuckled to himself: "Ah, ah, you think
a great deal of this young fellow. I'll teach you to keep up the
honour of the family."
He was so delighted at the prospect of an easy victory that he did
not sulk nearly as long as usual, but, to the young girl's
astonishment, was quite talkative the next day.
"Your aunt asked me if you would go and take tea with her
to-morrow," he said when they were at dinner.
Adele did not answer.
Heedless of her silence, her father went on: "You must go, because
you do not go often."
The daughter answered: "No, I do not go often." She thought: "Often
enough," for she did not at all relish the idea of a visit to her
aunt.
The inmates of the "Prenoms" did not please her. There was her
uncle, Mr. Soher, morose and stern. He was one of this class of
people who seem to be continually looking upwards, their mind so
much occupied in contemplating the upper regions that they
continually stumble against the blocks which lie in life's path. He
lived, partly on his income, partly on the commission which he
secured as agent to a firm of agricultural implement manufacturers,
and partly on the money which he made by selling his property bit by
bit. He had also advertised himself as auctioneer, house and estate
agent, etcetera, but no one seemed to require his services in this
line. Averse to manual labour, he could not properly cultivate such
a small farm without submitting himself to this "slavish work," as
he called it. Accordingly, he was, if slowly, surely drifting
towards bankruptcy. He saw this, so did his wife, but neither seemed
to care much; they were buoyed up by a false hope, always waiting
for something unexpected to turn up, which would rescue them from
this abyss.
Mrs. Soher was Mr. Rougeant's sister.
They were the only children of the late Charles Rougeant, of "Les
Marches."
She was short of stature, rather stout, her round little face
always assuming a certain air of dignity, her light blue eyes
wearing a fixed gaze and her tongue always ready to slander. She
pretended to be religious, because her husband was so; had he been
otherwise, she would certainly have been otherwise too.
Then came her twenty-four year old daughter Amelia, the only member
of the family with which the reader is not acquainted; and Tom,
grown into a lazy, bad-tempered and slouching young man. Old Mrs.
Soher was dead.
The home at the "Prenoms" was not a bright one. Mr. Soher did not
believe in education. He and his wife were often absent from home in
the evening. They went to some meeting, and their two children were
left alone. When the parents were gone, Tom left the house, leaving
his sister alone and returning about half an hour before his parents
came in. His sister said she would tell her father, but, upon Tom
threatening her, she kept silent, for she feared her brother who was
of a very violent temper.
One day, Tom came in later than usual. When he entered the house, he
was astonished to see his father sitting near the fire.
"Well," said Mr. Soher, "what does this mean?"
"I've just been out a little," said Tom.
"I hope you will not repeat this, my son," said the father. Then he
showed him how wicked it was to associate with bad companions, the
probable results of it; how, when he had once acquired bad habits,
he would find it nearly impossible to break with them; how he would
be enticed into disreputable places, and a host of other
admonishments.
Tom did not answer; he felt culpable, but not repentant. He did not
tell his father that this same evening he had entered a public-house
for the first time.
The days went by. Mr. Soher and his spouse continued to attend to
their meetings and their son continued to go out, returning boldly
after his parents had come in.
One evening, he came in drunk. Then his father became really
alarmed. He felt that he had not done towards his son all that he
might have done.
This did not, however, make him remain at home.
"I must attend to my Master's work," he would say. Once, he took his
son in the parlour, and after having exhorted him to turn a new leaf
he lifted up his voice in prayer. But the son continued to drink and
the father to pray, while the mother did as much as she could to
shield her dear boy.
Tom had neither the force of will, nor the desire to amend. His home
was so dull; there was nothing about it which attracted him; he did
not care at all for the mother who tried to screen his faults. She
was so narrow minded; always speaking ill of everyone. She knew they
were slowly sinking towards bankruptcy, and it was a consolation to
her to imagine others in the same position. She saw other people's
defects as if through a microscope.
Foolish woman. Even as thou art scandalizing others, thine own
nature is being abased, whilst those whom thou dost backbite remain
the same.
One glance at the daughter. She was taller and fairer than her
mother. Her character was the same as her mother's. Alas! under
such tutorship, how could she be expected to be otherwise.
When the time came for Adele to set out to pay her visit to the
"Prenoms," she did so reluctantly. It was not a pleasure to her, it
was a duty. If she did not go, she thought they would think her too
proud. So she made the sacrifice, and went. She determined to show a
bright face and to be as pleasant as she possibly could. She arrived
at the house of her hosts rather late.
Mrs. Soher welcomed her in a piping voice. She wore her everyday
apparel, and that was not of the brightest.
"Come in, my dear; you see, my dear, I have not had time yet to
change clothes, but I'll be ready in a few minutes.
"Sit down, my dear; why are you so late? I thought you would come
sooner."
Adele thought: "What a state the house would have been in, if I had
arrived an hour earlier."
Mrs. Soher began to dust a secretaire, talking all the while to her
niece. "Amelia will soon be down; she ran upstairs when she heard
you knock at the door; she does not like for anyone to see her when
she is not properly dressed, but _I_ don't care, not when it is you,
at any rate."
"A pretty compliment," thought the visitor.
When they were all assembled round the table partaking of their tea,
Adele tried over and over again to lead the conversation into a
pleasant channel, but all to no purpose. The inmates of the
"Prenoms" had to be taught to converse properly before they could do
so. Mrs. Soher began to babble in her ordinary way. Her daughter
supported her foolish statements. Adele made no remark. Her aunt
noticed this, and after a most scornful remark about Mrs. B.'s
character, she said to her niece: "Don't you think so?"
Although considerably annoyed, Adele had not so far made any remark,
but she was now directly appealed to. She spoke: "I do not know,"
she said. She noticed the two women smiling and exchanging glances.
Said Mrs. Soher sarcastically: "I thought you knew Mrs. B."
"Yes," answered her niece, "I know her, but I am continually
detecting faults in my temper which have to be overcome; and I find
that I have quite enough to do to look after myself without
bothering about others."
If ever you saw two people looking six ways for Sunday, it was Mrs.
Soher and her daughter.
After a few moments of embarrassing silence, Mr. Soher, who had not
yet spoken a word, said something about young people being
respectful to their superiors; while Tom laughed at the two women
and smiled approvingly at his cousin.
Adele took her departure early and was not asked to remain longer.
When she was once more in the open, she felt a great weight lifted
from her breast. She was now free, free to entertain herself with
nature, away from the stagnant atmosphere of the "Prenoms." She
walked along, her whole being revolting against the useless, ay,
more than useless talk she had heard. But when she looked at the
flowers that grew on the hedges which bordered the lane in which she
was walking, her soul was filled with a sweet balm. Here was the ivy
climbing upwards taking its support and some of its nourishment from
the hedge which it was scaling, always gaining fresh ground. Such is
the man who has risen in the world; he avails himself of his
success for a nobler, higher, and mightier effort. There some meek
ferns were hiding in a shady nook, away from the sun's piercing
rays.
The young girl felt a twofold joy: that of being alone with nature,
and that of being away from her aunt's house.
At last, she reached "Les Marches." How happy she felt. Not the sort
of home she hoped to have some day; but still, it was home. Her
father was there, as dumb and as severe as usual, but, to her, he
looked quite a nice old man now.
While she was thus engaged in rapturous joy, Mrs. Soher and her
daughter were having a fine time of it. "Ah! she _is_ a well-bred
girl; to interrupt me like that, to answer and lecture me in that
way," said Adele's aunt, then she added: "Fancy that little brat, to
try and give me a lesson about my duty towards my neighbour. If she
has enough to do to look after herself, let her do it; for my part
I'll do as I like. It won't be a young girl who is not yet out of
her teens who is going to teach me how to live."
The daughter scornfully remarked: "She has been to a
boarding-school, you know."
At which the two women laughed and Mr. Soher smiled, while Tom,
profiting by the general interest displayed in the conversation,
slipped out of the room and slouched to the nearest public-house.
After having most unduly run down their departed guest, the two
women resolved never again to invite her.
And they never did.
Had Adele heard their decision, she would have felt even more
cheerful than she now did.