One of the characteristics of this summer at Deerbrook was the rival
parties of pleasure with which the village was entertained. There had
been rival parties of pleasure the preceding year; but from what a
different cause! Then, all were anxious to do honour to Hester and
Margaret, or to show off in their eyes: now, the efforts made were, on
the one hand, to mortify, and on the other, to sustain them. The
Rowlands had a carriage party to the woods one week, and the Greys a
cavalcade to the flower-show at Blickley the next. The Rowlands gave a
dinner to introduce Mr Walcot to more and more of their country
neighbours; and the Greys had a dance in the green walk for the young
people of the village. The Rowlands went to a strawberry gathering at
Sir William Hunter's; and the Greys, with all their faction, as Mrs
Rowland called it, were invited to a syllabub under the cow, at the Miss
Andersons' breaking-up for the holidays.
All pretence of a good understanding between the two families was now at
an end. They ceased to invite each other, and scrambled for their
mutual acquaintances. The best of their mutual acquaintances saw no
reason for taking part in the quarrel, and preserved a strict
neutrality; and the worst enjoyed being scrambled for. The Levitts
visited both families, and entertained everybody in return, as if
nothing was happening. Sir William and Lady Hunter ate their annual
dinner with each, and condescended to pay two or three extra visits to
Mrs Rowland, without making a point of a full moon. Every circumstance
that happened afforded occasion for comment, of course. Mrs Grey
thought it very improper in the Rowlands to indulge in all this gaiety
while they were in deep mourning. It was painful to her feelings, she
owned, to hear the children shouting with laughter, while they were all
bombazine and crape from head to foot: she had hoped to see the memory
of her dear old friend treated with more respect. In vain did Mr Hope
plead Mrs Enderby's delight in the mirth of children, and that their
innocent gaiety would cheer her in her grave, if it could reach her
there. In vain did Hester urge the danger and sin of training the
little creatures to hypocrisy--a probable result, if they were to be
kept solemn and unamused to the day when they might put off their
mourning. Mrs Grey felt herself only the more called upon by all this
to furnish the amount of sighs and tears which she believed to be due to
Mrs Enderby's memory. Margaret rather sided with her--it was so sweet
to her to hear Philip's mother mourned.
Mrs Grey's tears were, however, interspersed with smiles. On the day
of the Rowlands' great dinner-party, when all was to be so stately for
the Hunters, when the new dessert service was procured from
Staffordshire, the fish had not arrived from London. This was certainly
a fact; the fish had come by the coach the next morning. And what was
still more remarkable, it had not occurred to Mrs Rowland that such an
accident might happen--was very likely to happen; and, as if she had
been an inexperienced housekeeper, she had not any dish in reserve, in
case of the non-arrival of the fish. It was said that Mrs Rowland had
sat down to table with a face perfectly crimson with anxiety and
vexation. To such a temper as hers, what a vexation it must have been!
There was a counterpart to this story for Mrs Rowland. She fancied
that Mrs Grey's friends, the Andersons, must have looked rather foolish
on occasion of their great syllabub party. She hoped the Miss Andersons
trained their pupils better than their cows: they had a sad obstreperous
cow, she understood. Some of the young ladies had lured it up the lawn
with a potato, and got it to stand still to be milked; but, when
somebody began to sing (she had no doubt it was Miss Ibbotson who sang)
the poor animal found the music was not to its taste, and, of course, it
kicked away the china bowl, and pranced down the lawn again. There was
a dirge sung over the syllabub, no doubt. The poor Miss Andersons must
have been terribly annoyed.
The good understanding of the gentlemen seemed all this time to be
uninterrupted. They had much to put up with at home on this account;
but their good-humour towards each other remained unbroken. Mr
Rowland's anxious face, and his retirement within the enclosure of his
own business, told his neighbours something of what he had to go through
at home. Mrs Grey was vexed with her husband that he did not visit
Hope's misfortunes upon Mr Rowland, and call the husband to account for
the mischief the wife had caused; and Hester more than once expressed
some resentment against her relation for not espousing Edward's cause
more warmly. Hope told her this was not reasonable.
"Remember," said he, as they sauntered in their garden, one evening,
"that these gentlemen must be more weary than we are (which is saying a
great deal) of these perpetual squabbles; and they must earnestly desire
to have peace in the counting-house. God forbid that their dominions
should be invaded for our sake!"
"Not for our sake only, but for the sake of justice."
"Everything depends on the sort of men you have to deal with, in such
cases as this. You must not expect too much. Here are two kind-hearted
men, bound to each other by mutual good will and mutual interest. There
is no other resemblance between them, except that they are both
overpowered--made rather cowardly by the circumstances of their
environment. Once departing from their plan of keeping the peace, they
would be plunged into quarrel. They view things so differently, from
the differences of their minds, that their only safety is in avoiding
altogether all subjects of Deerbrook contention. If you expect the
heroism of devoted friendship, or of an enthusiastic sense of justice
from such men, you will not find it. We must take them as they are."
"And humbly accept such countenance as they choose to bestow?"
"Take it or leave it, as you will. There is no use in quarrelling with
them for not being what they are not--that is all. Be generous with
them; and do not expect from them the conduct which they have a right to
expect from you."
"I rather wonder," observed Margaret, "that they have had the courage to
go so far as they do, in bearing testimony in your favour."
"They have been very handsome in their conduct on the whole; and it
would grieve me sincerely if they were to suffer further than they have
already done on my account. I am afraid Mr Rowland is wretched now,
because I will accept no assistance from him. He told me, the other
day, that he should receive no rent for this house while Walcot occupies
the other. He was beyond measure mortified when I positively declined
being under any such obligation to any landlord. If Mr Rowland
steadily refuses to turn us out of our house, and goes on offering
favours that I cannot accept, that is all we can expect from him."
"It never occurred to me that he can turn us out," said Hester, "that we
are tenants at will. Oh! how sorry I should be to go!" she continued,
as she surveyed the place. "I should grieve to quit our first home."
"There is no danger I believe: Mr Rowland will be firm on that head."
"And there is no danger, I should think," said Margaret, "but that the
Greys would find us something better the next day. Oh, I do not know
where or how; but it would be such a splendid opportunity for patronage,
that they would work miracles rather than let it slip. How far this ivy
has trailed over the wall already! I should be sorry to leave this
garden now that it promises to look like itself so soon again. Sydney
despises me for my admiration of it at present. He looks melancholy
about the blight. It is a pity certainly. Look at this rose-bush, how
curled and withered it is!"
"Sydney is doing like every one else in looking grave about the blight,"
observed Hope. "So bad a season has not been known since I came to
Deerbrook. I see care in the face of many an one who does not stand
anything like our chance of want. Here comes Sydney, with news of every
ill-looking field for five miles round, I doubt not."
"And Mr and Mrs Grey, and Sophia," said Hester, quitting her husband's
arm, and hastening to meet her friends.
The Greys pronounced it so pleasant an evening, that they had no wish to
sit down within doors; they preferred walking in the garden. They
seemed to come for two purposes--to offer an invitation, and to relate
that Mr Walcot was gone to dine at Sir William Hunter's to-day, and
that Sir William had sent the carriage for him. Mr Walcot had not been
ready for full five minutes after the carriage had driven up to the
door. This delay was no doubt intended to give all Deerbrook time to
observe the peculiar consideration, with which Mr Walcot was treated by
Sir William and Lady Hunter, who were by no means in the habit of
sending their carriage for their Deerbrook guests.
"Did you ever hear of such a thing," said Sophia, "as sending a carriage
for a young man? I have no doubt it is because he cannot ride."
"There you are out, Sophy," cried Sydney. "Mr Walcot rides as well as
Mr Hope, every bit."
"I cannot think what has happened to Sydney," observed his mother. "He
does nothing but stand up for Mr Walcot in the most unaccountable way!
I hope you will forgive it, Mr Hope. Boys take strange fancies, you
know. You must forgive it, my dears, in consideration of the rest of
us."
"Instead of forgiving it," said Hope, "I shall take leave rather to
admire it. There is a fine chivalrous spirit shown in fighting Mr
Walcot's battles with our friends and relations."
"There, now!" cried Sydney, triumphantly. "But I can't help it, you
see. Mr Walcot can ride, and he does ride well; and he is very civil
to me, and asks me to go fishing with him; and I am sure he always
inquires very respectfully after the rest of them. I never said any
more than that in praise of him; and I can't say less, can I, when they
are all abusing him for whatever he does?"
"I think not. I believe we may spare him that much credit without
grudging."
"But, Sydney, you know it is not pleasant to us to hear you speak in
praise of Mr Walcot under present circumstances; and you should have a
little consideration for us."
"Well, mother, if you will not speak of him at all, no more will I."
And he glanced up into his mother's face, to see how the proposition was
taken. "That is fair, is not it?" he inquired of Mr Hope.
"Excellent in theory, Sydney; but who likes to be tied down not to speak
on any subject, especially one which is turning up every hour? Your
plan will not answer."
"I will ask you because I said I would--and all the more because you are
not cross about Mr Walcot--"
"Hold your tongue, Sydney!" said the mother.
"Do not be ridiculous, Sydney," advised the sister.
"Mr Hope will say whether it is ridiculous, Sophy. Now, Mr Hope,
would not you, and cousin Hester, and Margaret, go down the water with
us to the abbey, just the same if Mr Walcot was with us?"
"With any guest of your father's and mother's, Sydney. We have no
quarrel with Mr Walcot. The truth is, we feel, after all we have
heard, that we know very little about him. We have not the slightest
objection to meet Mr Walcot."
"Neither wish nor objection," said Hester, calmly. "We are perfectly
indifferent about him."
Sydney vehemently beckoned his father, who left the apricot he and
Margaret were examining by the surgery wall, and came to see what he was
wanted for.
"You see," said he to Hope, when the matter was explained, "I have
naturally been rather anxious to bring this about this meeting between
you and the young man. In a small place like this, it is painful to
have everybody quarrelling, and not to be able to get one's friends
about one, for fear they should brawl in one's very drawing-room. Mr
Rowland is of my mind there; and I know it would gratify him if I were
to take some notice of this young man. I really could hardly refuse,
knowing how handsomely Mr Rowland always speaks of you and yours, and
believing Mr Walcot to be a very respectable, harmless young man. If I
thought it would injure your interests in the least, I would see him at
Cape Horn before I would invite him, of course: you must be aware of
that. And I should not think of asking you to meet Mrs Rowland; that
would be going too far. But Mrs Grey wishes that your wife and
Margaret should visit these ruins that we were always prevented from
getting to last year: and Mr Walcot is anxious to see them too; and he
has been civil to Sydney; and, in short, I believe that Sydney half
promised that he should go with us."
"Say no more," replied Hope. "You will have no difficulty with us. I
really know nothing against Mr Walcot. He had a perfect right to
settle where he pleased. Whether the manner of doing it was handsome or
otherwise, is of far more consequence to himself than to me, or to any
one else."
"I wish we all viewed the matter as you do. If the ladies had your
temper, we should have a heaven upon earth. But they take things up so
warmly, you see, when their feelings are interested for anybody; Mrs
Rowland for one, and my wife for another. I hardly know what she will
say to the idea of our having Walcot with us. Let us go and see."
"I have a word to say to you first. Do you know of any one who wants a
horse? I am going to dispose of mine."
"Mr Walcot wants a horse," said Sydney, delighted at the idea of
solving a difficulty.
Hope smiled, and told Mr Grey that he had rather sell his horse at a
distance. Mr Walcot had already hired the boy Charles, whom Hope had
just dismissed; and if he obtained the horse too, the old servant who
knew his way to every patient's door, all the country round--it really
would look too like the unpopular man patronising his opponent.
Besides, it would be needlessly publishing in Deerbrook that the horse
was given up.
"What is the fault of your horse?" asked Mr Grey, rousing himself from
an absent fit.
"Merely that he eats, and therefore is expensive. I cannot afford now
to keep a horse," he declared, in answer to Mr Grey's stare of
amazement. "I have so few patients now out of walking reach, that I
have no right to keep a horse. I can always hire, you know, from
Reeves."
"Upon my soul, I am sorry to hear this--extremely sorry to hear it.
Matters must have gone further than I had any idea of. My dear fellow,
we must see how we can serve you. You must let me accommodate you--
indeed you must--rather than give up your horse."
"Do not speak of it. You are very kind; but we need no help, I do
assure you. My mind is quite made up about the horse. It would only be
an incumbrance now. And, to satisfy you, I will mention that I have
declined repeated offers of accommodation--offers very strongly urged.
All I need ask of you is, to help me to dispose of my horse, somewhere
out of Deerbrook."
"I will manage that for you, the next time I go to market; and--" In the
emotion of the moment, Mr Grey was on the point of offering the use of
his own horse when it should be at home: but he stopped short on the
verge of his rash generosity. He was very particular about no one
riding his horse but himself and the man who groomed it: he remembered
his friend Hope's rapid riding and `enthusiasm' and suspected that he
should sooner or later repent the offer: so he changed it into, "I will
get your horse disposed of to the best advantage, you may depend upon
it. But I am very sorry--very sorry, indeed."
It is probable that nothing could have reconciled the ladies of Mr
Grey's family to the idea of admitting Mr Walcot into their party, but
the fact that they had of late cut rather a poor figure in contrast to
Mrs Rowland. That lady had the advantage of novelty in the person of
Mr Walcot, and her `faction' was by far the larger of the two. The
Greys found fault with all its elements; but there was no denying its
superiority of numbers. It was a great hardship to have Mr Walcot
forced upon them; but they reflected that his presence might bring a
reinforcement--that some neighbours would perhaps come to meet him, who
would be otherwise engaged to the Rowlands, for the very day on which
they were wanted; for Mrs Rowland had the art of pre-engaging just the
people the Greys intended to have. Sophia observed that Mr Walcot's
presence would be less of a restraint in a boat, and at tea among the
ruins, than in the drawing-room: there was always something to be said
about the banks and the woods; and there was singing; and in a boat
people were not obliged to talk unless they liked. She should not
wonder if he would rather relish a little neglect; he had been made much
of lately at such a ridiculous rate.
"If we do our part, my love," said Mrs Grey to Hester, in a mysterious
low voice, "I think you should exert yourselves a little. Nothing can
be done without a little exertion in this world, you know. Sophia and I
were agreeing that it is a long time since you had any of your friends
about you."
"Very few since your wedding company," observed Sophia.
"We remember you had all your acquaintance in the winter, my dear. It
was very proper, I am sure, all you did then: but it is now the middle
of July, you know; and our neighbours if Deerbrook always expect to be
invited twice a year."
"I should be happy to see them, I assure you," said Hester, "but it
happens to be not convenient."
"Not convenient, my dear!"
"Just so. We shall always be glad to see you and yours; but we have no
hospitality to spare for the common world just now. We have no
servants, you know, but Morris; and we are spending as little as we
can."
"Tea company costs so very little!" said Sophia. "At this time of the
year, when you need not light candles till people are going away, and
when fruit is cheap and plentiful--"
"And we will take care of the cake," interposed Mrs Grey. "Sophia will
make you some of her vicarage-cake, and a batch of almond biscuits; and
Alice shall come and wait. We can manage it very easily."
"You are extremely kind: but if our acquaintance are to eat your cake,
it had better be at your house. It does not suit our present
circumstances to entertain company."
"But it costs so very little!" persisted Sophia. "Mr Russell Taylor's
father used to give a general invitation to all his friends to come to
tea in the summer, because, as he said, they then cost him only
twopence-halfpenny a-head."
"I am afraid we are not such good managers as Mr Russell Taylor's
father," replied Hester, laughing. "And if we were, it is not
convenient to spend even twopence-halfpenny a-head upon our common
acquaintance at present. If we grow richer, we will get our friends
about us, without counting the cost so closely as that."
"That time will soon come, Sophia, my dear," said her mother, winking at
Hester. "In every profession, you know, there are little ups and downs,
and particularly in the medical. I dare say, if the truth were told,
there is scarcely any professional man, without private fortune, who has
not, at some time of his life, broken into his last guinea without
knowing where he is to get another. But professional people generally
keep their difficulties to themselves, I fancy, Hester: they are not
often so frank as you. Mind that, Sophia. You will be discreet,
Sophia."
"We have no intention of proclaiming in the streets that we are poor,"
said Hester. "But we owe it to you, dear Mrs Grey, to give our reasons
for not doing all that we and you might wish. We are not dissatisfied:
we want no help or pity: but we must live as we think right--that is
all."
"Indeed, my dear, I must say you do not look as if anything was amiss.
You look charmingly, indeed."
"Charmingly, indeed," echoed Sophia. "And Mrs Levitt was saying, that
Margaret seems to have grown quite handsome, this summer. I fancy Mrs
Rowland gets very few to agree with her as to Margaret being so very
plain."
"No, indeed. Margaret's countenance is so intelligent and pleasant that
I always said, from the beginning, that nobody but Mrs Rowland could
call her plain. I suppose we shall soon be losing her, Hester."
"Oh, no; not soon. She has no thought of leaving us at present. She
would not go in the spring, and sit beside Philip while he was learning
his lessons; and now, they will wait, I believe, till the lessons are
finished."
"She would not! Well, that shows what love will do. That shows what
her power over Mr Enderby is. We used to think--indeed, everybody used
to say it of Mr Enderby, that he always managed to do as he liked--he
carried all his points. Yet even he is obliged to yield."
"Margaret has a way of carrying her points too," said Hester: "the best
way in the world--by being always right."
"Mind that, Sophia. But, my dear Hester, I am really anxious about you.
I had no idea, I am sure--. I hope you get your natural rest."
"Perfectly, I assure you. Mrs Howell might envy me, if she still
`cannot sleep for matching of worsteds.' The simple truth is, Mrs
Grey, we never were so happy in our lives. This may seem rather
perverse; but so it is."
Mrs Grey sighed that Mrs Rowland could not be aware of this. Hester
thought it was no business of Mrs Rowland's; but Mrs Grey could not
but feel that it would be a great satisfaction that she should know that
those whom she hated, slept. She heard Margaret and Sydney saying
something in the middle of the grass-plot about the Milky Way: looking
up, she was surprised to perceive how plain it was, and how many stars
were twinkling in the sky. She was sure Hester must be dreadfully tired
with sauntering about so long. They had been very inconsiderate, and
must go away directly. Sydney must call his father.
"They are delightful young people, really," observed Mrs Grey to her
husband, during their walk home. "One never knows how to get away.
Lady Hunter little supposes what she loses in not cultivating them. Go
on before us, Sophia. Make haste home with your sister, Sydney. But,
my dear, they speak in a very poor way of their affairs."
"Oh, Hester spoke to you, did she? Hope told me he must part with his
horse. So Hester spoke to you?"
"Yes: not at all in a melancholy way, however. She keeps up her spirits
wonderfully, poor girl! We really must push them, Mr Grey. I see
nothing but ruin before them, if we do not push them."
"Ah! there is the difficulty: that is where that little enthusiasm of
Hope's comes in. I have a great respect for him; but I own I should
like to see him a little more practical."
"I really am pleased to hear you say so. It is just what I think; and I
always fancied you did not agree with me. It really puts me almost out
of patience to hear him speak of Mr Walcot--encouraging Sydney in his
notions! It is unnatural: it looks a little like affectation--all that
sort of feeling about Mr Walcot."
"I do not object to that, I confess. His thinking fairly of Walcot can
do no harm, and may save mischief, and it looks honourable and well. I
do not regret that, I own. But I think he is clearly wrong in selling
his horse in such a hurry. All Deerbrook will know it directly, and it
will not look well. I offered him such accommodation as would enable
him to keep it; but he is quite obstinate. Some enthusiastic notion of
honour, I suppose--. But I told them that there is no profession or
business in the world that has not its ups and downs."
"Exactly what I told Hester, when she declined having any parties at
present--in the very crisis, in my opinion, when it is of great
consequence that they should get their friends about them. Sophia would
have made the cake, and Alice would have waited at tea. But the fact
is, Mr Hope has put some of his spirit into his wife, and they must
take their own way, I suppose."
"He gave me his reasons, however," observed Mr Grey. "He regards this
as something more than one of the slack times common in his profession.
He will not accept obligation, while he sees no clear prospect of being
able to discharge it. I could not prevail upon him. However, they must
have enough: they cannot be actually pinched. I never saw him in better
spirits. There can be no occasion for our doing anything more than just
being on the look-out to serve them."
"We must push them--that is all we can do. They cannot really be
wanting anything, as you say, such fine spirits as they are in. Hester
looks sweetly. The first game that we have to spare this season shall
go to them: and I shall bear them in mind when we gather our apples."
"If you find we have any apples to gather, my dear. I doubt it."
"Do you really? It will be unfortunate for our young friends, if prices
rise next winter, as you seem to expect. There goes ten o'clock, I
declare; and there are the children looking out for us, as well they
may. But those are really delightful young people. There is no getting
away from them."