THE WISDOM OF THE SERPENT
GEORGE ALLEN meanwhile, at Cowfold, languished in love with Priscilla
Broad, who was now a comely girl of eighteen. Mrs. Broad had, of course,
discovered what was in the wind, and her pride suffered a severe shock.
She had destined Priscilla, as the daughter of a Flavel, for a London
minister, and that she should marry a tradesman was intolerable. Worse
still, a tradesman in Cowfold! What would become of their influence in
the town, she continually argued with Mr. Broad, if they became connected
with a member of their congregation? She thought it would be a serious
hindrance to their usefulness. But Mr. Broad was not so sure, although
he hated the Allens; and Priscilla, somehow or other, was not so sure,
for, despite her mother’s constant hints about their vulgarity, she not
infrequently discovered that something was wanted from the shop, and
bought it herself.
One Monday afternoon, Mr. Broad having thrown the silk handkerchief off
his face and bestirred himself at the sight of the radishes,
water-cresses, tea, and hot buttered toast, thus addressed his wife:
“My love, I am not altogether inclined to discountenance the attentions
which George pays to Priscilla. There are so many circumstances to be
taken into account.”
“It is a great trouble to me, John, and I really think if anything of the
kind were to happen, at least you would have to seek another cause. Just
consider the position in which I should stand towards Mrs. Allen.
Besides, I am sure it will interfere with your duties here if we are
obliged to take notice of the Allens more than of other people in the
town.”
“To seek for another cause, my love? That is a very grave matter at my
time of life. You remember too, that there is an endowment here.”
“Quite so; and that is the more reason why we should not permit the
attachment.”
“But, my love, as I observed, there are so many circumstances to be taken
into account. You know as well as I do in what aspect I view the Allens,
and what my sentiments with regard to them are—personally that is to say,
and not as minister of the gospel. Perhaps Providence, my dear, intends
this opportunity as a means whereby the emotions of my poor sinful
nature—emotions which may have been uncharitable—may be converted into
brotherly love. Then we must recollect that Isaac is a prominent member
of the church and a deacon. Thirdly, in all probability, if we do not
permit Priscilla to marry George, offence will be taken and they may
withdraw their subscription, which, I believe, comes altogether to twenty
pounds per annum. Fourthly, the Allens have been blessed with an unusual
share of worldly prosperity, and George is about to become a partner.
Fifthly and lastly”—Mr. Broad had acquired a habit of dividing his most
ordinary conversation into heads—“it is by no means improbable that I may
need a co-pastor before long, and we shall secure the Allens’ powerful
influence in favour of Thomas.”
Mrs. Broad felt the full force of these arguments.
“I should think,” she added, “that George, after marriage, cannot live at
the shop.”
“No, that will not be possible; they must take a private house.”
So it was agreed, without any reference to the question whether Priscilla
and George cared for one another, that no opposition should be offered.
The Allens themselves, father and mother, were by no means so eager for
the honour of the match as Mrs. Broad supposed them to be, for Mrs.
Isaac, particularly proud of her husband, and a little proud of their
comfortable business and their comfortable property, was not dazzled by
the Flavel ancestry.
When George formally asked permission of Mr. Broad to sanction his
addresses, a meeting between the parents became necessary, and Mrs. Broad
called on Mrs. Allen. She was asked into the dining-room at the back of
the shop. At that time, at any rate in Cowfold, the drawing-room, which
was upstairs, was an inaccessible sanctuary, save on Sunday and on high
tea-party days. Mrs. Broad looked round at the solid mahogany furniture;
cast her eyes on the port and sherry standing on the sideboard, in
accordance with Cowfold custom; observed that not a single thing in the
room was worn or shabby; that everything was dusted with absolute nicety,
for the Allens kept two servants; and became a little reconciled to her
lot.
Mrs. Allen presently appeared in her black silk dress, with her gold
watch hanging in front, and saluted the minister’s wife with the usual
good-humoured, slightly democratic freedom which always annoyed Mrs.
Broad.
“My dear Mrs. Allen,” began Mrs. Broad, “I have called to announce to you
a surprising piece of intelligence, although I dare say you know it all.
Your son George has asked Mr. Broad to be allowed to consider himself as
Priscilla’s suitor. We have discussed the matter together, and I have
come to know what your views are. I may say that we had
destined—hoped—that—er—Priscilla would find her sphere as a minister’s
wife in the metropolis; but it is best, perhaps, to follow the leadings
of Providence.”
“Well, Mrs. Broad, I must say I was a little bit disappointed myself—to
tell you the plain truth; but it is of no use to contradict young people
in love with one another.”
Mrs. Broad was astonished. Disappointed! But she remembered her
husband’s admonitions. So she contented herself with an insinuation.
“What I meant, my dear Mrs. Allen, was that, as the Flavels have been a
ministerial family for so long, it would have been gratifying to me, of
course, if Priscilla had bestowed herself upon—upon somebody occupying
the same position.”
“That is just what my mother used to say. I was a Burton, you remember.
They were large tanners in Northamptonshire, and she did not like my
going to a shop. But you know, Mrs. Broad, you had better be in a shop
and have plenty of everything, and not have to pinch and screw, than have
a brass knocker on your door, and not be able to pay for the clothes you
wear. That’s my belief, at any rate.”
The dart entered Mrs. Broad’s soul. She remembered some
“procrastination”—to use her husband’s favourite word—in settling a
draper’s bill, even when it was diminished by the pew rent, and she
wondered if Mrs. Allen knew the facts. Of course she did; all Cowfold
knew every fact connected with everybody in the town. She discerned it
was best to retreat.
“I wished to tell you, Mrs. Allen, that we do not intend to offer the
least objection”—she thought that perhaps a little professional unction
might reduce her antagonist—“and I am sure I pray that God will bless
their union.”
“As I said before, Mrs. Broad, neither shall we object. We shall let
George do as he likes. He is a real good boy, worth a princess, and if
he chooses to have Miss Broad, we shan’t hinder him. She will always be
welcome here, and it will be a consolation to you to know she will never
want anything.” Mrs. Allen shook her silk dress out a little, and
offered Mrs. Broad a glass of wine. Her feelings were a little
flustered, and she needed support, but she refused.
“No thank you, Mrs. Allen. I must be going.”