Spiritualism, Love, And Politics
Great was the grief of Emily when she heard that Mr. Brandon was going
away in a week or two, and that he might never come back to England for
a dozen of years; and now, instead of spending the rest of his time in
London with them, he had to go to Ashfield, to spend his last days in
England with his mother and sisters and nephews and nieces. She felt
quite wronged by this conduct, and bade him goodbye when he came to
take his temporary leave of them, with an amount of sulkiness rather
foreign to her character. Lessons were a far greater bore than usual on
that day, and both Emily and Harriett tried Jane's patience sorely.
After they were set free for two hours in the middle of the day, Jane
found her cousin was waiting for her to go out with him, and she wished
very particularly to see him, on account of some news she had got from
Scotland. He had not been satisfied to have none of her society on the
preceding day, and had appointed with Mrs. Phillips to come when she
would be at leisure, which that lady had forgotten or neglected to tell
Jane or Elsie. It was Jane alone whom he wished to see--it was to her
alone that he could speak about the communication with reference to his
letter. Jane was sorry that Elsie was not asked to accompany their
walk; but when Francis said he had something on his mind, and proceeded
to tell all the singular circumstances of the previous evening, she
listened with the greatest attention and with a suspended judgment.
When he came to the mental question which related to herself, he simply
called it something on which his heart was greatly set--it might have
been his allotments or his cottages; but Jane asked no questions, and
took no notice of his want of completeness in his narrative. Then he
told of the inquiry as to Mrs. Peck's connection with Mr. Phillips,
which he ought not to have asked, and which had received no answer. He
paused for Jane's opinion before he came to narrate Mr. Dempster's
message from his friend lost in the bush.
"Now, what do you think of all this, Jane?"
"I am a little staggered, as you were," said she. "I wish you had heard
more or less--it bewilders me."
"Should I then follow this advice so strangely given?"
"I think the advice exactly corresponds with what you had resolved to
do at any rate. It need not influence you either one way or the other.
You asked my advice the other day, but neither from me nor from a
departed spirit should you accept of or follow any advice which appears
to your own soul not to be good. You cannot shift off your personal
responsibility. As I said, it is your affair, not mine; and I feel
sorry that consideration for me, and for my generous employer, has
weighed so much with you that you scarcely give the claims of your
mother their just due."
"And the spirit said she was my mother, but at the same time advised,
or rather commanded me to have nothing to do with her. I do not wish to
have anything to do with her. What is it to be grateful for--such a
loveless, joyless life as mine has been--thwarted even now in my
dearest hopes and wishes."
"Francis," said Jane, "you have a great deal to be thankful for, and so
have I. With all the sufferings of the past year, I would not have been
without it for the world. We have both learned much, both from
circumstances and from each other."
"Jane, I am weary of all this talk about progress and perfection. I am
hungering for happiness, as I told this strange interlocutor last
night," said Francis, earnestly.
"And you will attain to it, Francis! but do not set your heart on what
it is not right, or wise, or expedient for you to obtain. And you
cannot look me in the face and say that, if one thing is denied, you
have not many sources of happiness."
Jane looked at him with her sisterly eyes, feeling the pain she was
giving, but determined not to show that she had any personal regret. It
was very kind, but it was very discouraging. She felt for him like a
sister--and nothing more.
"If I have any eyes," said Francis, trying violently to change the
subject, "Brandon is still an admirer of your sister's. What in the
world keeps him from declaring himself? Why does he not offer her all
he has, and all he may hope to gain? He cares no more for Miss Phillips
than I do, and she would never consent to accompany him to Australia.
And Elsie looks so pretty and so sad, she needs a protector; she would
be grateful to him; she cannot stand alone, as you do; and she knows
she makes your position here much more difficult."
"The truth is, Elsie refused him, and it is difficult for a man to make
a second offer when he has such slight opportunities of seeing her,
even if he has not made a transfer of his affections."
"I would make an opportunity--I would write--I would ask point-blank to
see her--I would speak to you about it, if I were in his place. It is
cowardly in Brandon."
"Why, Francis, you are very unreasonable. Elsie refused him as
positively and uncompromisingly as possible on her way down to
Derbyshire. I do not think she would do so now; but how is he to know
that?"
"I would hint as much to him, if I were you. Why, Jane, a word from you
might secure your sister's happiness for life, and you shrink from
saying it."
"Indeed I do," said Jane. "I think no good can come from interfering in
such matters, and I am particularly ill-adapted for such a delicate
communication. Besides, if one may judge by the last few weeks, it is
Miss Phillips who ought to receive the offer of marriage, and not
Elsie. If her brother were to ask what Mr. Brandon's intentions are, as
he might very well do, the result would be a marriage of two very
ill-assorted people. She cannot comprehend the real goodness and
simplicity of his character, and despises the man whom she is scarcely
worthy to wait on. She even looks down on her generous brother; she has
no love for her brother's children, and no sympathy with anyone. I am
really very glad to observe, with you, that her influence with Mr.
Brandon has decreased of late; but he certainly has paid her a great
deal of attention, and she expects a proposal."
"Her face has no charm to me," said Francis. "Taken feature by feature
it is handsome enough; but it wants play and variety, and it has not
the perfect harmony of Mrs. Phillips's. That is a singularly beautiful
index to a soul that appears to be nothing particular. I have heard it
said that we have all our ugly moments. Have you ever seen such a time
with Mrs. Phillips?"
"There are times when she certainly does not look beautiful to me, nor
to Elsie either. But I wanted to speak to you of your own affairs. I
had letter from Tom Lowrie this morning, in which he says that he hears
from one of his old schoolfellows that you have been asked to stand for
the Swinton group of burghs, and that every one says you will easily be
able to carry them over the duke's man."
"Ah! has he heard about it? I should have told you of it, but the more
pressing personal interest of the letter from Melbourne, Mr. Phillips's
strange agitation, and this mysterious spiritual communication, put it
out of my head for the time, and a word from you would put it aside for
ever," said Francis, with the old wistful look.
Jane, like all women who are interested in public matters at all, and
they form a very small minority of her sex, rather over-estimated the
importance of a parliamentary career. She knew the turn of her cousin's
mind, his education as a man of the people, his position as a man of
property, his earnest desire to do right, his patient habits of
business, and his thorough method of research and inquiry, were all
certain guarantees that he could not fail; and she had the belief that
his abilities, and readiness, and confidence would make him an eloquent
and skilful debater. It appeared to her to be an object of great
importance that a perfectly honest and independent member should
replace for the burghs in her native country the nominee of a great
family, who only voted with his party, and never had done any credit
either to the electors or to the nation. She said truly when she spoke
of her ambition finding its vent in dreams about him and her pupil, Tom
Lowrie. She certainly had influenced Francis Hogarth's character
greatly during the turning-point of his life; the ideas she had nursed
in her trials had been on his mind with force and earnestness, and
through him she could hope to give a voice to a number of her crotchets
and theories. Where a woman writes as well as thinks, she does not feel
this dependence on the other sex so strongly; for, though at a
disadvantage, she can for herself utter her thoughts--but Jane, as my
readers will have observed, was not literary. She was an intelligent,
well-informed, observing woman, but her field was action, and not
books. In her present situation she had very little time for reading;
but, from all that she saw, and from all the conversation she could
hear, she found hints for action and subjects for thought. To see
Francis in the British Parliament was a worthy ambition, and to give up
such a probable career for an inglorious and obscure life with herself
was not to be thought of. His wistful looks and earnest tones were to
be treasured up in her heart for ever; but her own love for him was not
of that imperious and unreasonable nature that she could not live
without him.