Jane Austen 4 страница

there was anything the matter with me. I am sure, Anne, if you would,

you might persuade him that I really am very ill--a great deal worse

than I ever own."

 

Mary`s declaration was, "I hate sending the children to the Great House,

though their grandmamma is always wanting to see them, for she humours

and indulges them to such a degree, and gives them so much trash

and sweet things, that they are sure to come back sick and cross

for the rest of the day." And Mrs Musgrove took the first opportunity

of being alone with Anne, to say, "Oh! Miss Anne, I cannot help wishing

Mrs Charles had a little of your method with those children.

They are quite different creatures with you! But to be sure,

in general they are so spoilt! It is a pity you cannot put your sister

in the way of managing them. They are as fine healthy children

as ever were seen, poor little dears! without partiality;

but Mrs Charles knows no more how they should be treated--!

Bless me! how troublesome they are sometimes. I assure you, Miss Anne,

it prevents my wishing to see them at our house so often as

I otherwise should. I believe Mrs Charles is not quite pleased

with my not inviting them oftener; but you know it is very bad

to have children with one that one is obligated to be checking

every moment; "don`t do this," and "don`t do that;" or that one can

only keep in tolerable order by more cake than is good for them."

 

She had this communication, moreover, from Mary. "Mrs Musgrove thinks

all her servants so steady, that it would be high treason

to call it in question; but I am sure, without exaggeration,

that her upper house-maid and laundry-maid, instead of being

in their business, are gadding about the village, all day long.

I meet them wherever I go; and I declare, I never go twice into my nursery

without seeing something of them. If Jemima were not the trustiest,

steadiest creature in the world, it would be enough to spoil her;

for she tells me, they are always tempting her to take a walk with them."

And on Mrs Musgrove`s side, it was, "I make a rule of never interfering

in any of my daughter-in-law`s concerns, for I know it would not do;

but I shall tell you, Miss Anne, because you may be able to set things

to rights, that I have no very good opinion of Mrs Charles`s nursery-maid:

I hear strange stories of her; she is always upon the gad; and from

my own knowledge, I can declare, she is such a fine-dressing lady,

that she is enough to ruin any servants she comes near.

Mrs Charles quite swears by her, I know; but I just give you this hint,

that you may be upon the watch; because, if you see anything amiss,

you need not be afraid of mentioning it."

 

Again, it was Mary`s complaint, that Mrs Musgrove was very apt

not to give her the precedence that was her due, when they dined

at the Great House with other families; and she did not see any reason

why she was to be considered so much at home as to lose her place.

And one day when Anne was walking with only the Musgroves, one of them

after talking of rank, people of rank, and jealousy of rank, said,

"I have no scruple of observing to you, how nonsensical some persons are

about their place, because all the world knows how easy and indifferent

you are about it; but I wish anybody could give Mary a hint that

it would be a great deal better if she were not so very tenacious,

especially if she would not be always putting herself forward to take

place of mamma. Nobody doubts her right to have precedence of mamma,

but it would be more becoming in her not to be always insisting on it.

It is not that mamma cares about it the least in the world,

but I know it is taken notice of by many persons."

 

How was Anne to set all these matters to rights? She could do little more

than listen patiently, soften every grievance, and excuse each

to the other; give them all hints of the forbearance necessary

between such near neighbours, and make those hints broadest

which were meant for her sister`s benefit.

 

In all other respects, her visit began and proceeded very well.

Her own spirits improved by change of place and subject,

by being removed three miles from Kellynch; Mary`s ailments lessened

by having a constant companion, and their daily intercourse

with the other family, since there was neither superior affection,

confidence, nor employment in the cottage, to be interrupted by it,

was rather an advantage. It was certainly carried nearly as far as possible,

for they met every morning, and hardly ever spent an evening asunder;

but she believed they should not have done so well without the sight

of Mr and Mrs Musgrove`s respectable forms in the usual places,

or without the talking, laughing, and singing of their daughters.

 

She played a great deal better than either of the Miss Musgroves,

but having no voice, no knowledge of the harp, and no fond parents,

to sit by and fancy themselves delighted, her performance was

little thought of, only out of civility, or to refresh the others,

as she was well aware. She knew that when she played she was

giving pleasure only to herself; but this was no new sensation.

Excepting one short period of her life, she had never, since the age

of fourteen, never since the loss of her dear mother, know the happiness

of being listened to, or encouraged by any just appreciation or real taste.

In music she had been always used to feel alone in the world;

and Mr and Mrs Musgrove`s fond partiality for their own daughters`

performance, and total indifference to any other person`s,

gave her much more pleasure for their sakes, than mortification

for her own.

 

The party at the Great House was sometimes increased by other company.

The neighbourhood was not large, but the Musgroves were visited

by everybody, and had more dinner-parties, and more callers,

more visitors by invitation and by chance, than any other family.

There were more completely popular.

 

The girls were wild for dancing; and the evenings ended, occasionally,

in an unpremeditated little ball. There was a family of cousins

within a walk of Uppercross, in less affluent circumstances,

who depended on the Musgroves for all their pleasures: they would come

at any time, and help play at anything, or dance anywhere; and Anne,

very much preferring the office of musician to a more active post,

played country dances to them by the hour together; a kindness which

always recommended her musical powers to the notice of Mr and Mrs Musgrove

more than anything else, and often drew this compliment;--

"Well done, Miss Anne! very well done indeed! Lord bless me!

how those little fingers of yours fly about!"

 

So passed the first three weeks. Michaelmas came; and now Anne`s heart

must be in Kellynch again. A beloved home made over to others;

all the precious rooms and furniture, groves, and prospects,

beginning to own other eyes and other limbs! She could not

think of much else on the 29th of September; and she had this

sympathetic touch in the evening from Mary, who, on having occasion

to note down the day of the month, exclaimed, "Dear me, is not this

the day the Crofts were to come to Kellynch? I am glad I did not

think of it before. How low it makes me!"

 

The Crofts took possession with true naval alertness, and were

to be visited. Mary deplored the necessity for herself.

"Nobody knew how much she should suffer. She should put it off

as long as she could;" but was not easy till she had talked Charles

into driving her over on an early day, and was in a very animated,

comfortable state of imaginary agitation, when she came back.

Anne had very sincerely rejoiced in there being no means of her going.

She wished, however to see the Crofts, and was glad to be within

when the visit was returned. They came: the master of the house

was not at home, but the two sisters were together; and as it chanced

that Mrs Croft fell to the share of Anne, while the Admiral sat by Mary,

and made himself very agreeable by his good-humoured notice

of her little boys, she was well able to watch for a likeness,

and if it failed her in the features, to catch it in the voice,

or in the turn of sentiment and expression.

 

Mrs Croft, though neither tall nor fat, had a squareness,

uprightness, and vigour of form, which gave importance to her person.

She had bright dark eyes, good teeth, and altogether an agreeable face;

though her reddened and weather-beaten complexion, the consequence

of her having been almost as much at sea as her husband, made her seem to

have lived some years longer in the world than her real eight-and-thirty.

Her manners were open, easy, and decided, like one who had

no distrust of herself, and no doubts of what to do; without any

approach to coarseness, however, or any want of good humour.

Anne gave her credit, indeed, for feelings of great consideration

towards herself, in all that related to Kellynch, and it pleased her:

especially, as she had satisfied herself in the very first half minute,

in the instant even of introduction, that there was not the smallest

symptom of any knowledge or suspicion on Mrs Croft`s side, to give a bias

of any sort. She was quite easy on that head, and consequently

full of strength and courage, till for a moment electrified by

Mrs Croft`s suddenly saying,--

 

"It was you, and not your sister, I find, that my brother had

the pleasure of being acquainted with, when he was in this country."

 

Anne hoped she had outlived the age of blushing; but the age of emotion

she certainly had not.

 

"Perhaps you may not have heard that he is married?" added Mrs Croft.

 

She could now answer as she ought; and was happy to feel,

when Mrs Croft`s next words explained it to be Mr Wentworth

of whom she spoke, that she had said nothing which might not do

for either brother. She immediately felt how reasonable it was,

that Mrs Croft should be thinking and speaking of Edward,

and not of Frederick; and with shame at her own forgetfulness

applied herself to the knowledge of their former neighbour`s

present state with proper interest.

 

The rest was all tranquillity; till, just as they were moving,

she heard the Admiral say to Mary--

 

"We are expecting a brother of Mrs Croft`s here soon; I dare say

you know him by name."

 

He was cut short by the eager attacks of the little boys,

clinging to him like an old friend, and declaring he should not go;

and being too much engrossed by proposals of carrying them away

in his coat pockets, &c., to have another moment for finishing

or recollecting what he had begun, Anne was left to persuade herself,

as well as she could, that the same brother must still be in question.

She could not, however, reach such a degree of certainty,

as not to be anxious to hear whether anything had been said on the subject

at the other house, where the Crofts had previously been calling.

 

The folks of the Great House were to spend the evening of this day

at the Cottage; and it being now too late in the year for such visits

to be made on foot, the coach was beginning to be listened for,

when the youngest Miss Musgrove walked in. That she was coming

to apologize, and that they should have to spend the evening by themselves,

was the first black idea; and Mary was quite ready to be affronted,

when Louisa made all right by saying, that she only came on foot,

to leave more room for the harp, which was bringing in the carriage.

 

"And I will tell you our reason," she added, "and all about it.

I am come on to give you notice, that papa and mamma are

out of spirits this evening, especially mamma; she is thinking so much

of poor Richard! And we agreed it would be best to have the harp,

for it seems to amuse her more than the piano-forte. I will tell you

why she is out of spirits. When the Crofts called this morning,

(they called here afterwards, did not they?), they happened to say,

that her brother, Captain Wentworth, is just returned to England,

or paid off, or something, and is coming to see them almost directly;

and most unluckily it came into mamma`s head, when they were gone,

that Wentworth, or something very like it, was the name of

poor Richard`s captain at one time; I do not know when or where,

but a great while before he died, poor fellow! And upon looking over

his letters and things, she found it was so, and is perfectly sure

that this must be the very man, and her head is quite full of it,

and of poor Richard! So we must be as merry as we can, that she may not

be dwelling upon such gloomy things."

 

The real circumstances of this pathetic piece of family history were,

that the Musgroves had had the ill fortune of a very troublesome,

hopeless son; and the good fortune to lose him before he reached

his twentieth year; that he had been sent to sea because he was stupid

and unmanageable on shore; that he had been very little cared for

at any time by his family, though quite as much as he deserved;

seldom heard of, and scarcely at all regretted, when the intelligence

of his death abroad had worked its way to Uppercross, two years before.

 

He had, in fact, though his sisters were now doing all they could for him,

by calling him "poor Richard," been nothing better than a thick-headed,

unfeeling, unprofitable Dick Musgrove, who had never done anything

to entitle himself to more than the abbreviation of his name,

living or dead.

 

He had been several years at sea, and had, in the course of those removals

to which all midshipmen are liable, and especially such midshipmen

as every captain wishes to get rid of, been six months on board

Captain Frederick Wentworth`s frigate, the Laconia; and from the Laconia

he had, under the influence of his captain, written the only two letters

which his father and mother had ever received from him during the whole

of his absence; that is to say, the only two disinterested letters;

all the rest had been mere applications for money.

 

In each letter he had spoken well of his captain; but yet,

so little were they in the habit of attending to such matters,

so unobservant and incurious were they as to the names of men or ships,

that it had made scarcely any impression at the time; and that Mrs Musgrove

should have been suddenly struck, this very day, with a recollection

of the name of Wentworth, as connected with her son, seemed one of those

extraordinary bursts of mind which do sometimes occur.

 

She had gone to her letters, and found it all as she supposed;

and the re-perusal of these letters, after so long an interval,

her poor son gone for ever, and all the strength of his faults forgotten,

had affected her spirits exceedingly, and thrown her into

greater grief for him than she had know on first hearing of his death.

Mr Musgrove was, in a lesser degree, affected likewise; and when

they reached the cottage, they were evidently in want, first,

of being listened to anew on this subject, and afterwards,

of all the relief which cheerful companions could give them.

 

To hear them talking so much of Captain Wentworth, repeating his name

so often, puzzling over past years, and at last ascertaining that it might,

that it probably would, turn out to be the very same Captain Wentworth

whom they recollected meeting, once or twice, after their coming back

from Clifton--a very fine young man--but they could not say whether

it was seven or eight years ago, was a new sort of trial to Anne`s nerves.

She found, however, that it was one to which she must inure herself.

Since he actually was expected in the country, she must teach herself

to be insensible on such points. And not only did it appear that

he was expected, and speedily, but the Musgroves, in their warm gratitude

for the kindness he had shewn poor Dick, and very high respect

for his character, stamped as it was by poor Dick`s having been

six months under his care, and mentioning him in strong,

though not perfectly well-spelt praise, as "a fine dashing felow,

only two perticular about the schoolmaster," were bent on

introducing themselves, and seeking his acquaintance, as soon as

they could hear of his arrival.

 

The resolution of doing so helped to form the comfort of their evening.

 

Chapter 7

 

 

A very few days more, and Captain Wentworth was known to be at Kellynch,

and Mr Musgrove had called on him, and come back warm in his praise,

and he was engaged with the Crofts to dine at Uppercross,

by the end of another week. It had been a great disappointment

to Mr Musgrove to find that no earlier day could be fixed,

so impatient was he to shew his gratitude, by seeing Captain Wentworth

under his own roof, and welcoming him to all that was strongest

and best in his cellars. But a week must pass; only a week,

in Anne`s reckoning, and then, she supposed, they must meet;

and soon she began to wish that she could feel secure even for a week.

 

Captain Wentworth made a very early return to Mr Musgrove`s civility,

and she was all but calling there in the same half hour.

She and Mary were actually setting forward for the Great House,

where, as she afterwards learnt, they must inevitably have found him,

when they were stopped by the eldest boy`s being at that moment

brought home in consequence of a bad fall. The child`s situation

put the visit entirely aside; but she could not hear of her escape

with indifference, even in the midst of the serious anxiety

which they afterwards felt on his account.

 

His collar-bone was found to be dislocated, and such injury

received in the back, as roused the most alarming ideas.

It was an afternoon of distress, and Anne had every thing to do at once;

the apothecary to send for, the father to have pursued and informed,

the mother to support and keep from hysterics, the servants to control,

the youngest child to banish, and the poor suffering one to attend

and soothe; besides sending, as soon as she recollected it,

proper notice to the other house, which brought her an accession

rather of frightened, enquiring companions, than of very useful assistants.

 

Her brother`s return was the first comfort; he could take best care

of his wife; and the second blessing was the arrival of the apothecary.

Till he came and had examined the child, their apprehensions were

the worse for being vague; they suspected great injury, but knew not where;

but now the collar-bone was soon replaced, and though Mr Robinson

felt and felt, and rubbed, and looked grave, and spoke low words

both to the father and the aunt, still they were all to hope the best,

and to be able to part and eat their dinner in tolerable ease of mind;

and then it was, just before they parted, that the two young aunts

were able so far to digress from their nephew`s state, as to give

the information of Captain Wentworth`s visit; staying five minutes behind

their father and mother, to endeavour to express how perfectly delighted

they were with him, how much handsomer, how infinitely more agreeable

they thought him than any individual among their male acquaintance,

who had been at all a favourite before. How glad they had been

to hear papa invite him to stay dinner, how sorry when he said

it was quite out of his power, and how glad again when he had promised

in reply to papa and mamma`s farther pressing invitations to come

and dine with them on the morrow--actually on the morrow;

and he had promised it in so pleasant a manner, as if he felt

all the motive of their attention just as he ought. And in short,

he had looked and said everything with such exquisite grace,

that they could assure them all, their heads were both turned by him;

and off they ran, quite as full of glee as of love, and apparently

more full of Captain Wentworth than of little Charles.

 

The same story and the same raptures were repeated, when the two girls came

with their father, through the gloom of the evening, to make enquiries;

and Mr Musgrove, no longer under the first uneasiness about his heir,

could add his confirmation and praise, and hope there would be now

no occasion for putting Captain Wentworth off, and only be sorry to think

that the cottage party, probably, would not like to leave the little boy,

to give him the meeting. "Oh no; as to leaving the little boy,"

both father and mother were in much too strong and recent alarm

to bear the thought; and Anne, in the joy of the escape,

could not help adding her warm protestations to theirs.

 

Charles Musgrove, indeed, afterwards, shewed more of inclination;

"the child was going on so well, and he wished so much to be introduced

to Captain Wentworth, that, perhaps, he might join them in the evening;

he would not dine from home, but he might walk in for half an hour."

But in this he was eagerly opposed by his wife, with "Oh! no, indeed,

Charles, I cannot bear to have you go away. Only think if anything

should happen?"

 

The child had a good night, and was going on well the next day.

It must be a work of time to ascertain that no injury had been

done to the spine; but Mr Robinson found nothing to increase alarm,

and Charles Musgrove began, consequently, to feel no necessity

for longer confinement. The child was to be kept in bed and amused

as quietly as possible; but what was there for a father to do?

This was quite a female case, and it would be highly absurd in him,

who could be of no use at home, to shut himself up. His father

very much wished him to meet Captain Wentworth, and there being

no sufficient reason against it, he ought to go; and it ended in his

making a bold, public declaration, when he came in from shooting,

of his meaning to dress directly, and dine at the other house.

 

"Nothing can be going on better than the child," said he;

"so I told my father, just now, that I would come, and he thought me

quite right. Your sister being with you, my love, I have no scruple at all.

You would not like to leave him yourself, but you see I can be of no use.

Anne will send for me if anything is the matter."

 

Husbands and wives generally understand when opposition will be vain.

Mary knew, from Charles`s manner of speaking, that he was

quite determined on going, and that it would be of no use to teaze him.

She said nothing, therefore, till he was out of the room,

but as soon as there was only Anne to hear--

 

"So you and I are to be left to shift by ourselves, with this

poor sick child; and not a creature coming near us all the evening!

I knew how it would be. This is always my luck. If there is

anything disagreeable going on men are always sure to get out of it,

and Charles is as bad as any of them. Very unfeeling! I must say

it is very unfeeling of him to be running away from his poor little boy.

Talks of his being going on so well! How does he know that he is

going on well, or that there may not be a sudden change half an hour hence?

I did not think Charles would have been so unfeeling. So here he is to

go away and enjoy himself, and because I am the poor mother,

I am not to be allowed to stir; and yet, I am sure, I am more unfit

than anybody else to be about the child. My being the mother

is the very reason why my feelings should not be tried. I am not at all

equal to it. You saw how hysterical I was yesterday."

 

"But that was only the effect of the suddenness of your alarm--

of the shock. You will not be hysterical again. I dare say we shall have

nothing to distress us. I perfectly understand Mr Robinson`s directions,

and have no fears; and indeed, Mary, I cannot wonder at your husband.

Nursing does not belong to a man; it is not his province.

A sick child is always the mother`s property: her own feelings

generally make it so."

 

"I hope I am as fond of my child as any mother, but I do not know

that I am of any more use in the sick-room than Charles,

for I cannot be always scolding and teazing the poor child when it is ill;

and you saw, this morning, that if I told him to keep quiet,

he was sure to begin kicking about. I have not nerves

for the sort of thing."

 

"But, could you be comfortable yourself, to be spending

the whole evening away from the poor boy?"

 

"Yes; you see his papa can, and why should not I? Jemima is so careful;

and she could send us word every hour how he was. I really think

Charles might as well have told his father we would all come.

I am not more alarmed about little Charles now than he is.

I was dreadfully alarmed yesterday, but the case is very different to-day."

 

"Well, if you do not think it too late to give notice for yourself,

suppose you were to go, as well as your husband. Leave little Charles

to my care. Mr and Mrs Musgrove cannot think it wrong while I remain

with him."

 

"Are you serious?" cried Mary, her eyes brightening. "Dear me!

that`s a very good thought, very good, indeed. To be sure,

I may just as well go as not, for I am of no use at home--am I?

and it only harasses me. You, who have not a mother`s feelings,

are a great deal the properest person. You can make little Charles

do anything; he always minds you at a word. It will be a great deal better

than leaving him only with Jemima. Oh! I shall certainly go;

I am sure I ought if I can, quite as much as Charles, for they want me

excessively to be acquainted with Captain Wentworth, and I know

you do not mind being left alone. An excellent thought of yours,

indeed, Anne. I will go and tell Charles, and get ready directly.

You can send for us, you know, at a moment`s notice, if anything

is the matter; but I dare say there will be nothing to alarm you.

I should not go, you may be sure, if I did not feel quite at ease

about my dear child."

 

The next moment she was tapping at her husband`s dressing-room door,

and as Anne followed her up stairs, she was in time for