Thorpe was a little excited over Mr Mannering's garden party. To be
sure it could boast of much the same amount of hospitality annually
offered as the other little country-places in the neighbourhood, but, on
the other hand, these hospitalities generally took the form of
dinner-parties, and people came in closed carriages or flies, instead of
driving in gayly with their pretty bright colours flashing out for the
benefit of the women who stood on the door-steps, or the children who
were all agape. Besides, owing to the Vicars death, there had been
fewer gayeties than usual, and another sort of gloom had gathered about
the village after the rumour of Anthony's deed made a break in the old
cordial intercourse. Robert Mannering was sorely perplexed and grieved.
Faithfulness to his old love made him quick to resent for Margaret Hare
any injustice done to her daughter, and yet the estrangement from
Anthony was very painful to him. He had tried to prevent it, but he
could not show that there was perfect trust in his mind, and Anthony was
keenly offended. Throughout his boyhood and bright youth the young
fellow had been full of sanguine ardour, flushed with dreams and visions
of great things to be done, where he was always the champion and
deliverer, and would go forth, single-handed if need were, to fight
against wrong. Suddenly, in a shape of which he had never dreamed,
wrong had leaped upon him, and smitten all his weapons out of his hand,
so that where nothing had seemed impossible was there now anything
possible except weariness and bitterness to the end? Such a mood, if he
had belonged to another creed, might have driven him to become a
Trappist, not from any deepening of religion, but rather from repulsion
of the life he had hitherto lived, which had so instantaneously changed
colour. One would speak reverently of the workings of a man's soul in a
crisis of his life, knowing that there is at times a strangeness, a
madness, a wilfulness, at war with what is highest and noblest, making
strife terrible, and asking from us prayer rather than judgment.
Anthony chafed so hotly against the injustice of society, that he was
conscious of a longing to outrage it, but the strong, tender force of
associations, the purity of a father's memory, are safeguards for which
many a one is in after years thankful; only his pride revenged itself by
holding aloof from his former friends. He would have gone to extremes
with the Mannerings if Mr Robert had permitted it; but he was blind to
all avoidance, took no notice of cold treatment, went to see Mrs Miles
as usual, and though the announcement of the engagement gave his kind
heart a pang for Winifred, he believed it to be for the best,--
considering the Squires vehemence,--and was glad to make it a kind of
opportunity for reconciliation. Personally, too, he liked Ada, who was
a favourite with most of the gentlemen round, and he saw no reason why
she should not enjoy her little innocent triumph. Therefore Anthony's
refusal to come to his house vexed him not a little.
"If that foolish fellow is going to walk about on stilts all his days,
there will be no living in the place with him," he said, pacing up and
down the study with the short, heavy steps which always produced an air
of endurance in his brother. "What do you say to it, Charles? O, I
see, you don't like my moving about! Why didn't you stop me?"
"My dear Robert, I might as well stop a watch that is wound up."
"That's nonsense. Of course, I recollect it if you'll only speak. It's
merely that sitting down in this heat gives me the fidgets, and you
can't stand another open window. What were we talking about?--O,
Anthony! Here's his note. Did you ever in your life read such a
shut-me-up epistle?"
Mr Mannering read the letter, and shrugged his shoulders.
"It must be one thing or the other with him."
"It's a pity it should always be the wrong thing," said Mr Robert,
mechanically resuming his march. "The matter has blown over, and
there's an end of it. A pretty girl, and a fresh start, and not one of
us but is ready to shake hands. What on earth can he expect more?"
"You must have patience," said Mr Mannering. "The lad is sore and
unhappy, he may be looking at the matter from an entirely different
point of view to yours, and at any rate he is not one to shake off
either accusation or act readily."
"Well," said his brother, with a little wonder, "you have been his best
friend throughout, even to disbelieving plain facts."
"You should read more classic poetry, Robert."
"Pooh! Why?"
"You would get rid of that terribly prosaic estimation of facts. They
may be as deceptive as other many-sided things."
"Well, as Anthony insists upon drawing his sword and holding us all at
arm's length, I wish the fact that half a hundred women are coming to
trample down my turf were deceptive. What a difference there would have
been a year ago!" added Mr Robert, with a sigh of regret. "That boy
would hare been up here twenty times a day, planning and contriving, and
worrying us out of our senses. It is not right of him, Charles,
whatever you may say; it's not right for the poor girl."
"Will you be so good as to close that window, Robert?" said his brother,
shivering. "When your guests come I shall be doubled up with
rheumatism. To drag me into society is really an act of cruelty, for I
am quite unfit for it, and as useless as a log."
Mr Robert stopped his march, and looked at his brother with a comically
grave expression of sympathy. The same little comedy was acted again
and again, Mr Mannering protesting against the society in which he
delighted, and a victim to aches and pains until the guests arrived,
when he became the perfect host, only occasionally indulging himself
with an allusion to his sufferings, and full of the social presence of
mind invaluable under the circumstances.
Ada had been as much offended at Anthony's desertion as it was possible
for one of her nature to be, but it could not seriously ruffle her
temper. All her life had been spent in a kindly appreciative
atmosphere, and a certain placid self-satisfaction seems irrepressibly
to radiate from such lives. No doubts were likely to trouble her. She
was too serenely comfortable to be conscious of the little stings and
darts which torment some people every day. She was haunted by no sense
of short-coming. There looked out at her from the glass a pretty
smiling face, her uncle and aunt petted her, the days were full of easy
enjoyment,--all of us have been sometimes puzzled with these lives,
which irritate us at the very moment of our half-envy of a placidity
which seems so far beyond our reach. And now, although Anthony's
absence caused her a prick of mortification, she had no intention of
resigning, in consequence, any of the honours which the occasion might
bring to her feet, nor even the attendance of an admirer, for she had
persuaded good-natured Mrs Bennett--always readily moved to anything in
the shape of a kindness, and especially of one which affected the bodily
comfort of her acquaintances--to offer a seat in the carriage to Mr
Warren, a young would-be lawyer who was working under Mr Bennett, and
who would otherwise have had to tramp out along the dusty road, instead
of, as now, appearing in the freshest of attire, ready to be Ada's very
obedient servant, and not at all ill-pleased to stand, if only for a
day, in what should have been Anthony's place.
It gave Winifred a start to come upon the two walking towards the
green-houses; Ada with much the same little air of prettiness and
self-consciousness which she had displayed towards Anthony on the day of
the sisters' visit, Mr Warren certainly more attentive and lover-like
than the real lover had been. And Ada was not in the least discomposed
by the look of astonishment in Winifred's clear eyes. There was, on the
contrary, a triumphant tone in her voice.
"We are going to see Mr Mannering's ferns. It is such a delightful
day. I do think it was so charming of Mr Mannering to give this party,
but then he is charming, and I was just telling Mr Warren that I had
lost my heart to him."
It is strange how from some lips praise of those we like becomes much
more unbearable than its reverse. Winifred had never felt so
uncharitably towards Mr Robert.
They went on through the flickering sunshine--which the bordering
espalier trees were not tall enough to shadow--talking and laughing,
while Winifred looked after them with a perplexed sadness for Anthony.
What was he about?--why was he not here?--did he think he could escape
pain like this? She was right in concluding that his absence would not
improve his position, for people who came with the intention of being
gracious were thrown back upon themselves. It looked odd, they said, to
see Miss Lovell there and Mr Miles absent. It left the party
incomplete. The day was exquisite: a little breeze rustled through the
great elms, the lights were laden with colour, there were grave sharply
cut shadows on the grass, a soft fresh warmth, full of exhilaration, Mr
Robert's brightest flowers sunning themselves, but--somehow or other
there was a jar. Even Mrs Bennett began to look a little troubled at
the speeches which reached her ears, especially when Mrs Featherly drew
her chair close to her, and began what she intended for consolation.
"You and Mr Bennett should have made a point of it, you should indeed,
if only in consideration of what is past," she said, shaking her head
impressively. "There can be no doubt but that it was his duty to come.
And it always grieves me deeply when you see people endeavouring to
evade a duty."
"He has gone to London," said poor Mrs Bennett, with a feeble show of
indignation. "And my husband says that ladies have no idea of what
business requires."
"I flatter myself that there is nothing of Mr Featherly's business
which I do not know as well as he does himself," said Mrs Featherly
loftily, "and I should make it a point of principle to be acquainted
with that of any one likely to become connected with our family,
especially if there were a past to be considered. But of course, if Mr
Bennett is satisfied--and he is, I believe, remarkable for his caution?"
It was one of Mrs Featherly's peculiarities to credit people with
virtues which could not be considered strong marks in their character.
Caution was so far from being Mr Bennett's prerogative, that one or two
little difficulties in his profession had arisen from his lack of that
lawyer-like quality. Mrs Bennett thought of moving to another part of
the garden, but she was in a comfortable chair and could see no other
vacant seat, so she murmured an assent and let her tormentor run on.
"One is bound at all times to hope for the best, and, of course, we feel
an interest in this young man, the son of a neighbouring clergyman and
all, as my husband very properly remarked. But it is most unfortunate.
Poor Ada, I am really quite sorry for her, and so is Augusta. Were you
thinking of moving? I know you are so active that I dare say you hardly
share my relief in sitting still. With a parish like ours I assure you
the responsibilities become a very heavy burden, but, as you say, there
are family responsibilities which are scarcely less trying, and poor Ada
not being your daughter--"
It was like a nightmare. Poor Mrs Bennett, who had not thought much of
Anthony's going to London, and was conscious of all the capabilities of
comfort around her, began to feel as if everything were wrong, and had
no weapons with which to defend herself. Luckily for her Mr Mannering
came by, and she almost caught at him as he passed.
"It is rather hot here," she said, searching about for some physical
means of accounting for her discomfort. "I think I should like to move
to a shadier part."
"We will both go," said Mrs Featherly, spreading out her dress. "Now
that you are here, Mr Mannering, I may as well remind you of your
promise of subscription to our organ. Was it you or Mr Robert?--but of
course it is the same thing."
"I wish it were," said Mr Mannering, in his courteous, easy manner.
"Robert is the philanthropic half of the house, and I have every desire
to benefit by his good deeds. I always aid and abet them at any rate,
so that, if you will allow me, I will make him over to you where he
shall not escape."
"Ah, but you must assist us, too," said Mrs Featherly. "It is a most
dangerous doctrine to suppose that you can avoid responsibilities. That
is just what I was pointing out to our friend. Naturally she and Mr
Bennett feel much anxiety with regard to their niece, and it is so
unfortunate that Mr Miles did not make a point of being here to-day at
all events."
There are some people in the world for whom it seems the sun never
shines, the flowers never blow, the earth might be sad-coloured, for
anything that it matters. Even Mrs Bennett, whom all these things
affected in a material sort of way, was more influenced by them than
Mrs Featherly, who shut them out of her groove with contempt.
"Here is Miss Chester," said Mr Mannering with some relief, for he did
not quite know how to separate the two ladies. "Miss Winifred, I want
you to be kind enough to help Mrs Featherly to find my brother. He is
avoiding his debts, and must be brought to book. Mrs Bennett is tired,
and I am going to take her to a shady seat."
Mr Mannerings voice was too courteous for Mrs Featherly to be able to
persuade herself that she was affronted, but she certainly felt that she
had not said so much as she intended to Mrs Bennett upon the subject of
Anthony's delinquencies. She was not really a malicious woman, but she
considered that her position gave her a right of censorship over the
morals of the neighbourhood, and that it was both incumbent upon her to
see that people acted up to their duties, and to speak her mind when she
was of opinion that they in any degree came short of them. And as she
never had any doubt as to the exact line of duty which belonged to each
person, she was not likely to distrust her own power of judgment. She
prepared herself to deliver a little homily to Winifred.
"My dear, I was so surprised to see Bessie here. Does your father
really think it wise for so young a girl? Why, she will not come out
for another year and a half."
"Bessie will be seventeen in October," said Winifred, "and she has
coaxed papa into promising that she shall go to the December ball at
Aunecester."
All Mrs Featherly's ribbons shook with disapproval.
"The Aunecester ball! Impossible! It would be most injudicious.
Eighteen is the earliest age at which a girl should come out. Augusta
was eighteen, I remember, on the twentieth of December, and the ball was
on the twenty-seventh. If her birthday had not fallen until after the
ball, Augusta has so much proper feeling that no consideration would
have induced her to persuade me to allow her to go. She would have
known it was against my principles. Eighteen. Eighteen is the
earliest, and Bessie will not be eighteen for a year. I must speak to
Mr Chester myself, and point out the impropriety. I must, indeed."
"My father has promised," said Winifred, smiling. "He never will call
back a promise."
"He must be made to see that it is a matter of principle. The young
people of the present day have the most extraordinary ideas. Now, there
is Anthony Miles. Why is he not in his proper place to-day, when, in
consideration of his position, and out of regard for our excellent
friends, we were willing to meet him, and to let bygones be bygones?"
"Anthony need fear no bygones," said Winifred, with an indignant flush
burning on her cheek.
"You must allow other people to be the best judge of that," said Mrs
Featherly, drawing herself up stiffly. "Both Mr Featherly and I are of
opinion that appearances are very much against him; and appearances, let
me assure you, are exceedingly momentous things. At the same time, it
may be the duty of society to make a point of not proceeding to
extremities, and, taking into consideration the young man's position in
the county as a gentleman of independent means, as the son also of your
late Vicar, society in my opinion acted as it should in extending its
congratulations on the approaching event, while the young man has, to
say the least, been injudicious. Most injudicious."
"It is certain that he would not meet society on such terms," said
Winifred, with difficulty commanding her voice.
"My dear, a young lady should not undertake a gentlemans defence so
warmly."
Poor Winifred was helpless, angry, and provoked almost to tears. For
though her heart was not too sore to be generous, every now and then so
sharp a pang struck through it, that her only refuge seemed to lie in
such hard thoughts of Anthony as should convince herself that she was
indifferent. She did not want to be his defender. And yet it was
unendurable to hear him suspected. Perhaps she did the best that she
could when she stopped and said gravely,--
"If we talk about him any more, I might say things which you might call
rude, and you are too old a friend for me to like to affront you. But I
want you to understand that Anthony Miles was brought up like our
brother, and I know it is as impossible for him to have done such an act
as you suppose, as for my father to have done it. There is some
unfortunate mistake. Please, whether you believe me or not, do not say
any more about it. Did you not wish to see Mr Robert? There he is. I
must go to Bessie."
So poor Winifred carried her swelling heart across the sunshine which
lay warm on the soft grass, and past the blossoming roses, leaving Mrs
Featherly more keenly mortified than she knew. No possibility of a last
word was left to her, and she was so utterly discomfited that she even
forgot the organ and Mr Robert. But as she drove home she said to her
husband,--
"James, we shall pass that man Smiths, and I must beg that you will get
out and tell him that I cannot allow Mary Anne to come to the Sunday
school with flowers in her bonnet."
"If you wish it, my dear, of course," Mr Featherly said reluctantly.
"But it might be as well not to irritate that man just as he is
beginning to show signs of a better--"
"Principle is principle." Mrs Featherly had never felt so
uncompromising. It was one of those odd links of life which baffle us.
Here were Anthony and Winifred and Mr Mannering's garden party
unconsciously playing upon big Tom Smith and poor little blue-eyed Mary
Anne, who had somewhere picked up a bit of finery, and decked herself
out. Mrs Featherly had received a check that day, and wanted to feel
the reins again. "Principle is principle," she said unrelentingly.