Mrs Rowland did not find herself much the happier for being borne out
by the whole world in her assertions, that Philip and Margaret were not
engaged. She knew that, with regard to this, she now stood justified in
the eyes of all Deerbrook, that almost everyone there now believed that
it had been an entanglement from which she had released her brother.
From selfish fear, from dread of the consequences of going so far as to
be again sent by her husband to Cheltenham, or by the Levitts to
Coventry; from foresight of the results which would ensue from her
provoking an inquiry into the domestic concerns of the Hopes--an inquiry
which might end in the reconciliation of Philip and Margaret, and in
some unpleasant discoveries about herself--she was very guarded
respecting the grand accusation by which she had wrought on her brother.
No hint of it got abroad in Deerbrook: nothing was added to the ancient
gossip about the Hopes not being very happy together. Mrs Rowland knew
that affairs stood in this satisfactory state. She knew that Margaret
was exposed to as much observation and inquiry as a country village
affords, respecting her disappointed attachment--that the Greys were
very angry, and praised Margaret to every person they met--that Mr
Walcot eulogised Mrs Rowland's discernment to all Mrs Rowland's
party--that Mrs Howell and Miss Miskin lifted up their eyes in
thankfulness at Mr Enderby's escape from such a connection--that Mr
Hope was reported to be rather flat in spirits--and that Margaret was
certainly looking thin: she knew of all this success, and yet she was
not happier than six months ago. The drawback on such successes is,
that they are never complete. There is always some Mordecai sitting at
the gate to mar the enjoyment. Mrs Rowland was aware of Mrs James
having dropped that she and her husband had nothing to do with anybody's
family quarrels; that there was always a great deal to be said on both
sides in such cases; and that they had never seen anything but what was
amiable and pleasant in Miss Ibbotson and her connections. She knew
that Dr Levitt called on the Hopes full as often as at any house in
Deerbrook; and that Mrs Levitt had offered to take some of Margaret's
plants into her greenhouse, to be nursed through the winter. She was
always hearing that Miss Young and Margaret were much together, and that
they were happy in each other's society; and she alternately fancied
them talking about her, exposing to each other the injuries she had
wrought to both, and enjoying an oblivion of their cares in her despite.
She could never see Maria taking an airing in the Greys' shrubbery,
leaning on Margaret's arm, or Margaret turning in at the farrier's gate,
without feeling her colour rise. She knew that Mr Jones was apt to
accommodate Miss Ibbotson with a choice of meat, in preference to his
other customers; and that Mrs Jones had spoken indignantly to a
neighbour about fine gentlemen from London that think little of breaking
one young heart after another, to please their own vanity, and never
come back to look upon the eyes that they have made dim, and the cheeks
that grow pale for them.
All these things Mrs Rowland knew; and they ate into her heart. In
these days of her triumph she moved about in fear; and no hour passed
without troubling her victory. She felt that she could not rest till
the corner-house family was got rid of. They did not seem disposed to
move of their own accord. She incessantly expressed her scorn of the
want of spirit of a professional man who would live on in a place where
he had lost his practice, and where a rival was daily rising upon his
ruins: but the Hopes staid on still. Week after week they were to be
met in the lanes and meadows--now gleaning in the wake of the
harvest-wain, with Fanny and Mary, for the benefit of widow Rye; now
blackberry gathering in the fields; now nutting in the hedgerows. The
quarterly term came round, and no notice that he might look out for
another tenant reached Mr Rowland. If they would not go of their own
accord, they must be dislodged; for she felt, though she did not fully
admit the truth to herself; that she could not much longer endure their
presence. She looked out for an opportunity of opening the subject
advantageously with Mr Rowland.
The wine and walnuts were on the table, and the gentleman and lady were
amusing themselves with letting Anna and Ned try to crack walnuts (the
three elder children being by this time at school at Blickley), when
Mrs Rowland began her attack.
"My dear," said she, "is the corner-house in perfectly good repair at
present?"
"I believe so. It was thoroughly set to rights when Mr Hope went into
it, and again after the riot; and I have heard no complaint since."
"Ah! after the riot; that is what I wanted to know. The surgery is well
fitted up, is it?"
"No doubt. The magistrates took care that everything should be done
handsomely. Mr Hope was fully satisfied."
"He was: then there seems no doubt that Mr Walcot had better remove to
the corner-house when the Hopes go away. It is made to be a surgeon's
residence: and I own I do not like to see those blinds of Mr Walcot's,
with that staring word `Surgery,' upon them, in the windows of my poor
mother's breakfast-room."
"Nor I: but the Hopes are not going to remove."
"I believe they will be leaving Deerbrook before long."
"I believe not."
"My dear Mr Rowland, I have reason for what I say."
"So have I. Take care of that little thumb of yours, my darling, or you
will be cracking it instead of the walnut."
"What is your reason for thinking that the Hopes will not leave
Deerbrook, Mr Rowland?"
"Mr Hope told me so himself."
"Ah! that is nothing. You will be about the last person he will inform
of his plans. Mr Walcot's nearest friends will be the last to know, of
course."
"Pray, do not make me out one of Mr Walcot's nearest friends, my dear.
I have a very slight acquaintance with the young gentleman, and do not
intend to have more."
"You say so now to annoy me, my love: but you may change your mind. If
you should see Mr Walcot your son-in-law at some future day, you will
not go on to call him a slight acquaintance, I suppose?"
"My son-in-law! Have you been asking him to marry Matilda?"
"I wait, Mr Rowland, till he asks it himself; which I foresee he will
do as soon as our dear girl is old enough to warrant his introducing the
subject. Her accomplishments are not lost upon him. He has the
prophetic eye which sees what a wonderful creature she must become. And
if we are permitted to witness such an attachment as theirs will be, and
our dear girl settled beside us here, we shall have nothing left to
wish."
"To speak of something more nearly at hand, I beg, my dear, that you
will hold out no expectation of the corner-house to Mr Walcot, as it is
not likely to be vacated."
"Has the rent been regularly paid, so far?"
"To be sure it has."
"By Mr Grey's help, I have no doubt. My dear, I know what I am saying.
The Hopes are as poor as the rats in your granary; and it is not to be
supposed that Mr Grey will long go on paying their rent for them, just
for the frolic of sustaining Mr Hope against Mr Walcot. It is paying
too dear for the fancy. The Hopes are wretchedly pinched for money.
They have dropped their subscription to the book club."
"I am very sorry to hear it. I would give half I am worth that it were
otherwise."
"Give it them at once, then, and it will be otherwise."
"I would, gladly; but they will not take it."
"I advise you to try, however; it would make such a pretty romantic
story!--Well, Mr Grey is extremely mortified at their withdrawing from
the book club. He remonstrated very strongly indeed."
"That does not agree very well with his paying their rent for them."
"Perfectly well. He thinks that if he undertakes the large thing, for
the sake of their credit, they might have managed the small. This is
his way of viewing the matter, no doubt. He sees how their credit will
suffer by their giving up the book club. He sees how everybody will
remark upon it."
"So do they, I have no doubt."
"And the matter will not be mended by Sophia Grey's nonsense. What
absurd things that girl does! I wonder her mother allows it,--only
that, to be sure, she is not much wiser herself. Sophia has told some
of her acquaintance, and all Deerbrook will hear it before long, that
her cousins have withdrawn from the book club on account of Hester's
situation; that they are to be so busy with the baby that is coming,
that they will have no time to read."
"As long as the Hopes are above false pretences, they need not care for
such as are made for them. There! show mamma what a nice plump walnut
you have cracked for her."
"Nicely done, my pet. But, Mr Rowland, the Hopes cannot hold out.
They cannot possibly stay here. You will not get their rent at
Christmas, depend upon it."
"I shall not press them for it, I assure you."
"Then you will be unjust to your family. You owe it to your children,
to say nothing of myself, to look after your property."
"I owe it to them not to show myself a harsh landlord to excellent
tenants. But we need not trouble ourselves about what will happen at
Christmas. It may be that the rent will make its appearance on the
morning of quarter-day."
"Then, if not, you will give them notice that the house is let from the
next quarter, will you not?"
"By no means, my dear."
"If you do not like to undertake the office yourself, perhaps you will
let me do it. I have a good deal of courage about doing disagreeable
things, on occasion."
"You have, my dear; but I do not wish that this should be done. I mean,
I desire that it be not done. The Hopes shall live in that house of
mine as long as they please. And if," continued Mr Rowland, not liking
the expression of his lady's eye,--"if any one disturbs them in their
present abode--the consequence will be that I shall be compelled to
invite them here. I shall establish them in this very house, sooner
than that they shall be obliged to leave Deerbrook against their will;
and then, my dear, you will have to be off to Cheltenham again."
"What nonsense you talk, Mr Rowland! Who should disturb them, if you
won't be open to reason, so as to do it yourself? I thought you knew
enough of what it is to be ridden by poor tenants, to wish to avoid the
plague, if warned in time. But some people can never take warning."
"Let us see that you can, my love. You will remember what I have said
about the Hopes being disturbed, I have no doubt. And now we have done
with that, I want to tell you--"
"Presently, when we have really done with this subject, my dear. I have
other reasons--"
"Which you will spare me the hearing. My dear Priscilla, there are no
reasons on earth which can justify me in turning this family out of
their house, or you in asking me to do it. Let us hear no more about
it."
"But you must hear. I will be heard on a subject in which I have such
an interest, Mr Rowland."
"Ring the bell, my little fellow. Pull hard. That's it--Candles in the
office immediately."
And Mr Rowland tossed off the last half of his glass of port, kissed
the little ones, and was gone. The lady remained to compassionate
herself; which she did very deeply, that she could find no means of
ridding herself of the great plague of her life. These people were
always in her way, and no one would help her to dislodge them. Her own
husband was against her--quite unmanageable and perverse.