All as yet had been silence at Neverden rectory. Mr Darnley the elder,
and Mrs Darnley and the young ladies, all knew as well as could be that
Robert had renewed his acquaintance with Miss Primrose; but the father
was wilfully and perversely silent on the subject, and the rest of the
family felt themselves in duty bound to be silent also.
There is something curious and awkward in a kind of family--not
quarrel, but coldness, when the family is not habituated to anything of
that nature. Some families always have a species of domestic sparring,
or are periodically visited with a fit of family sulks, and then it
passes off very glibly and quietly, and makes no more alteration in,
or impression upon, the ordinary family features, than does the light
cloud that passes over the moon.
It was not so with the Darnleys. They had always been an united,
harmonious, sensible, well conducted family. Mrs Darnley thought her
husband to be little short of a conjuror, sure proof that she was
none. The young ladies, though they had read Locke’s Essay, De Lolme
on the Constitution, and Mitford’s History of Greece, yet thought
that their father knew every thing that an honest man ought to know.
But the females of the family had of late years begun to divide their
intellectual allegiance between the father and son; for Robert had
written such “very pretty” letters, and had conveyed to them so much
information, that they could not but regard him as a very superior
kind of personage. Seeing that the young gentleman had been abroad, it
became natural to his mother and sisters to imagine that he must know
much more than those who had not been abroad; but neither mother nor
sisters, with all the advantages which they had derived from the wisdom
of the rector of Neverden, had ever found out or even suspected the
difference between knowing more and knowing better.
Therefore, when it came to pass that Robert Darnley, contrary to the
will and wish of his father, had renewed the acquaintance with Miss
Primrose, the ladies knew not which side to take, and so they wisely
took neither. What a bustle would be saved at elections, and how quiet
would be the House of Commons, if nobody voted but those who knew why
they voted.
As the Darnley family was not habituated to coolness or quarrelling,
the present fit of silence was very inconvenient. And every day when
the family met at breakfast and dinner, they looked at one another
most imploringly, as if begging for something beyond the ordinary
common-place, unavoidable speaking, which must of necessity take place
at every table. Mrs Darnley was quite in the fidgets. She tried over
and over again, but all to no purpose, to compel her reverend spouse
to say something about Smatterton; and fifty times at least, within
the space of a very few days, did she almost begin to introduce the
discussion by main force, but as often did she retire from the attempt
damped and dispirited.
The worthy rector kept up his stately reserve; and every morning did
Robert Darnley walk over to Smatterton, and every afternoon did he as
regularly return to dine with his family; and though his father knew,
or at least strongly conjectured where he had been, yet no mention was
made of it.
People who know nothing more about Christianity than what they read
in the New Testament, might imagine that a minister of that religion
would, in the discharge of his official duties, have met with some
sentiment or expression that might have aroused the feelings of
consideration and forgiveness in his bosom, and have reminded him that
silent sulkiness was not one of the Christian graces. But it is far
easier to accommodate religion to our caprices, than to regulate our
conduct by religion. And Mr Darnley had been so long accustomed to
utter a set of words, that he forgot that any meaning was attached to
them.
It was not by Mr Darnley the elder, nor by the impatient Mrs Darnley,
nor by the knowing Miss Darnleys, that the painful family silence was
at last broken; but it was by the plain, straightforward conduct of
the young gentleman himself, who became impatient of the miserable
restraint which his father’s obstinate humour had imposed upon the
family.
One morning at breakfast, when nothing had been said by any one of the
family, except about tea and eggs and bread and butter, Robert Darnley
said very deliberately and respectfully to his father:
“If you are not engaged this morning, Sir, I shall be glad to have a
little conversation with you.”
Mr Darnley the elder anticipated in a moment what was to be the nature
of the conversation; but as no intimation to that effect was given by
the young gentleman, the father could only say in reply, that he was
quite at liberty to hear anything that his son might have to say to him.
Oh, how anxious were the ladies of the family to hear the result of
this important meeting! The first congress of the sovereigns composing
the holy alliance or spiritual conspiracy, did not excite a greater
sensation in the hearts of European subjects or abjects, than did this
meditated meeting in the study of Neverden rectory, between father and
son, excite in the bosoms of Mrs and the Miss Darnleys.
The meeting took place. The young man had the advantage of
self-possession, a clear and definite object, and a fearlessness in the
avowal and statement of it. The father had changed his mind repeatedly
between the time of proposing the interview, and that of meeting his
son. The rector of Neverden had previously made up his mind to silence;
but not anticipating that the young man would break the silence, was
not prepared with any set mode of conduct, or any definite reply to
anything that might be said. The father had already perceived that the
young man was resolute and decisive, therefore it was no easy matter to
meet the resoluteness of actual power by the pompousness of an empty
and bygone authority. Mr Darnley knew that his son would have his own
way; and with all the austerity which the rector of Neverden could
possibly assume, he entered upon the conference.
The young gentleman very unaffectedly and calmly entered upon the
subject, and respectfully said to his father: “It gives me great
uneasiness, Sir, to observe that my acquaintance with Miss Primrose,
which formerly was so pleasant and acceptable, should now be the means
of throwing a damp over the spirits of all the family.”
Mr Robert Darnley was in hopes that to this introduction his father
would make some reply, explanatory of his reasons for having so
pertinaciously frowned his disapprobation. But the rector was silent,
and turned away his face and looked out at the window, as much as to
intimate that he was perfectly indifferent to anything which the young
gentleman might be pleased to say upon that topic. But this kind of
procedure was not only disrespectful and unhandsome towards his son,
but was not consistent with the respect which the reverend gentleman
owed to himself. And Robert Darnley was now at an age to be treated
like a rational and reflecting being, and it was by no means proper and
decorous to behave towards him in this cavalier style.
It is a great pity that many very good and virtuous men do sometimes
so far forget themselves, as to yield more readily to the impulses of
caprice, than to the sober dictates of judgment. And when in anything
like a quarrel, dispute, or diversity of opinion, an elder gives way to
improper feelings, he thereby loses so much of the natural dignity and
advantage which age would otherwise have given him, and sinks to, or
even below, the level of the younger.
So situated was the elder Darnley on this occasion; and his situation
was truly lamentable. He had set up an opposition to his son’s
inclinations, and he had not the power to carry forward the opposition
triumphantly and successfully, nor had he the wisdom and discretion to
make a speedy and prudent retreat. There would have been a great saving
of painful feeling if, when he saw that his opposition was and must be
fruitless, he had gently given way. He now felt the awkwardness of the
position in which he had obstinately placed himself, and the young man
also felt that he had an advantage over his father, which advantage he
could not but use, yet he used it gently and gracefully.
Modulating his voice to its mildest tone, and taking by gentle force
his father’s hand, the young man said:
“If, sir, you will not speak to me, will you hear me?”
The father’s eyelids moved rapidly and his lips were compressed, and he
said with something of an effort, “Certainly.”
“Then, sir,” replied the young man, “I must say that, while I am
grieved that you should regard Miss Primrose with such altered
feelings, since I feel myself satisfied that her conduct has been
perfectly correct, and that her mind is pure, I consider that I am
so much bound by the engagement which was made some years ago, as if
our correspondence had never been interrupted. I am convinced by the
most unequivocal testimony that Miss Primrose did not decline the
correspondence, and that her situation in London, under the patronage
of the Countess of Smatterton, was altogether involuntary and painful.
The reports which have been circulated here concerning the young lady,
are not only absolutely false, but they have not even the shadow of a
foundation. They are altogether a malicious invention, and that for the
vilest of purposes.”
Mr Darnley the elder here shook his head, and directed to his son a
look of compassion, and a smile of incredulity, and said; “Foolish
boy! How easily those artful people can impose upon your ignorance and
simplicity.”
Robert Darnley returned the smile of incredulity and said; “But I have
other evidence than that of Miss Primrose or her father.”
The father impatiently interrupted his son, and with pomposity replied;
“Young man, have I not eyes to see, ears to hear, and understanding to
discern? I speak of what I know. My objection against this young woman
is not from hearsay. I offered her an asylum in this house, an asylum
of comfort and of respectability. She was graceless enough to refuse
it. She preferred to throw herself upon the patronage of the Countess
of Smatterton, and to adopt the profession of a public singer, a
proceeding against which her most worthy uncle the late Dr Greendale so
seriously and repeatedly cautioned her. That was not well done. It was
not reputable; it was not treating that good man’s memory with proper
respect. It was explicitly renouncing all connexion with my family; for
she could not imagine that, after such conduct, any of us should be
weak enough to take notice of her again.”
“But, my dear father,” mildly interrupted Robert Darnley, “as our
correspondence was intercepted, might not Miss Primrose imagine that I
had ceased to regard her with affection, and might she not suppose that
the intention of renouncing was on my part, and how then could she with
any propriety accept of the asylum which you were kind enough to offer
her? Indeed, sir, I am well acquainted with all the circumstances,
and I am sure that if you would make enquiries, you would find that
Miss Primrose has uniformly and invariably behaved with the utmost
propriety.”
The young man was young indeed, to imagine that such logic as this
could have any influence on his father’s mind, or lead to the slightest
change in his feelings and views. This gentleness of expostulation had
a tendency rather to render the rector’s prejudice more inveterate; and
this the young gentleman perceived when he heard his father reply:
“I beg, child, that you would not talk so ridiculously. Do you think I
am weak enough to be imposed upon as you have been, and to be persuaded
out of my senses? I tell you plainly and positively that I will never
give my consent or approbation to your marriage with Miss Primrose; but
you may do as you please, you are of age.”
The young man at this speech felt that logic was superfluous, and that
no evidence could convince a wilfully-closed eye. Therefore seeing that
nothing was left him but the most positive and decided obstinacy, he as
conclusively replied:
“Then, sir, I am very sorry that I must express my determination under
such unpleasant circumstances; but, since you will not be persuaded, I
must say that it is my fixed determination to marry Miss Primrose very
shortly; the day is not absolutely fixed, but it will not be at any
great distance of time.”
Then the rector trembled and turned pale, and he endeavoured to fix
his eyes sternly and reproachfully on his son, but the agitation of
his mind was too great to leave him any power or command over his
muscles, or even to suffer him to speak. And instead of fixing a look
of sternness on his son, he looked at him wildly and unmeaningly, and
his lips moved, but they uttered no articulate sound. And the young man
was grieved and terrified at these hideous symptoms of ungovernable
and overwhelming anger. He rose therefore hastily from his seat and
again grasped his father’s hand, not gently and persuasively as before,
but with an agitation almost as great as that which he was desirous
of subduing. The movement a little recalled the consciousness of the
agitated parent, and when Robert Darnley was just about to speak, his
father hastily and loudly exclaimed; “Peace, boy, peace! not another
word, unless you wish to break your father’s heart!”
The young man was wise enough to keep his lips closed. But he was
painfully distressed at the visible effect which had been produced upon
his father. He therefore sat down again watching the countenance of
his angry parent, and almost wishing that he had not been so positive.
After a few minutes had elapsed the elder Darnley regained his
self-possession, and expressed to his son a wish to be left alone.
Robert Darnley obeyed the intimation and retired. He did not dare say
a word more on the subject of their interview, and he was greatly
perplexed as to what steps he should take. For it had been his decided
intention to go over to Smatterton on this very morning, for the
purpose of making a final arrangement. He had never before seen his
father, or indeed any one else, under the influence of such powerful
feelings. He thought that if he should go to Smatterton now, such an
overt act of rebellion would be too much for his father’s agitated
nerves to bear, and might be productive of serious consequences.
Instead therefore of going to Smatterton, he sought his mother and
sisters, and gratified their curiosity by informing them of all the
particulars of his interview with his father.
Now, though the ladies of the family were not most amicably disposed
towards Miss Primrose, they more easily yielded to the logic and
eloquence of Robert Darnley than his father had done. They were pleased
that their lips were set at liberty to speak on the subject; for it
is very unpleasant when in a family there is a forced silence, or a
prohibition to speak on any particular subject. They listened very
attentively to the history which the young gentleman gave them of the
treachery of the letter-carrier, and they one and all lifted up their
hands and eyes in mute astonishment at the wickedness of Lord Spoonbill.
But when Robert Darnley gave them an account of what poor Penelope had
suffered, and how reluctantly she had been dragged up to London, and
how destitute and friendless she had felt herself before she had given
her consent to the favorite scheme of the Countess of Smatterton, then
did they pity her, and they began to blame themselves that they had
ever thought unworthily of her. And then they did all express the most
sincere and hearty wishes and hopes that Mr Darnley the elder would
soon be reconciled, and they thought and said how happy they should be
to renew the acquaintance with Penelope.
Mrs Darnley went so far as to say that she would take the earliest
opportunity of calling upon Miss Primrose; but it was presently
suggested by the rest of the party, that such a measure would not be
most advisable in present circumstances.
“Or, at all events,” said Robert Darnley, “if you were to call, it
would be desirable that you should let Mr Primrose and Penelope
understand that your visit is made without my father’s knowledge.”
This remark the young gentleman made, because he knew that Penelope
would expect him, inasmuch as he had at his last visit to Smatterton
confidently said, that he so well knew his father’s temper that he was
satisfied that all objection would disappear very speedily when the
real state of the case should be made known. The young man however
had not rightly calculated on the power of prejudice and the force of
obstinate and wilful blindness.
Now, though Mrs Darnley was the best tempered woman in the world, and
was disposed to do any one a service, yet she had in a very high
degree the gift of clumsiness, and was quite as likely to do harm as
good, notwithstanding her very best and sincerest intentions. The young
ladies therefore dissuaded their mother from her proposal; but when
they understood that their brother was especially anxious just at this
time to see Penelope, or at least to send some message to her, and that
it would be exceedingly hazardous that he should go at the present
juncture, they proposed that they would take a walk to Smatterton, and
endeavour as it were, by accident, to fall in with Penelope. The young
gentleman was pleased with the offer and accepted it.