Part 15 (1/2)
'Is he at Oxford?'
'Oh yes! it was all papa's doing that he was sent to Eton. Papa is his guardian. Aunt Rotherwood never would have parted with him.'
'He is the only son,' interposed Emily.
'Uncle Rotherwood put him quite in papa's power; Aunt Rotherwood wanted to keep him at home with a tutor, and what she would have made of him I cannot think,' said Lily; and regardless of Emily's warning frowns, and Alethea's attempt to change the subject, she went on: 'When he was quite a child he used to seem a realisation of all the naughty d.i.c.ks and Toms in story-books. Miss Middleton had a perfect horror of his coming here, for he would mind no one, and played tricks and drew Claude into mischief; but he is quite altered since papa had the management of him--Oh! such talks as papa has had with Aunt Rotherwood--do you know, papa says no one knows what it is to lose a father but those who have the care of his children, and Aunt Rotherwood is so provoking.'
Here Alethea determined to put an end to this oration, and to Emily's great relief, she cut short the detail of Lady Rotherwood's offences by saying, 'Do you think Faith Longley likely to suit us, if we took her to help the housemaid?'
'Are you thinking of taking her?' cried Lily. 'Yes, for steady, stupid household work, Faith would do very well; she is just the stuff to make a servant of--”for dulness ever must be regular”--I mean for those who like mere steadiness better than anything more lovable.'
As Alethea said, laughing, 'I must confess my respect for that quality,' Mr. Devereux and Claude entered the room.
'Oh, Robert!' cried Lily, 'Mrs. Weston is going to take Faith Longley to help the housemaid.'
'You are travelling too fast, Lily,' said Alethea, 'she is only going to think about it.'
'I should be very glad,' said Mr. Devereux, 'that Faith should have a good place; the Longleys are very respectable people, and they behaved particularly well in refusing to let this girl go and live with some dissenters at Stoney Bridge.'
'I like what I have seen of the girl very much,' said Miss Weston.
'In spite of her sad want of feeling,' said Robert, smiling, as he looked at Lily.
'Oh! she is a good work-a-day sort of person,' said Lily, 'like all other poor people, hard and pa.s.sive. Now, do not set up your eyebrows, Claude, I am quite serious, there is no warmth about any except--'
'So this is what Lily is come to!' cried Emily; 'the grand supporter of the poor on poetical principles.'
'The poor not affectionate!' said Alethea.
'Not, compared within people whose minds and affections have been cultivated,' said Lily. 'Now just hear what Mrs. Wall said to me only yesterday; she asked for a black stuff gown out of the clothing club, ”for,” said she, ”I had a misfortune, Miss;” I thought it would be, ”and tore my gown,” but it was, ”I had a misfortune, Miss, and lost my brother.”'
'A very harsh conclusion on very slight grounds,' said Mr. Devereux.
'Prove the contrary,' said Lily.
'Facts would scarcely demonstrate it either way,' said Mr. Devereux.
'They would only prove what was the case with individuals who chanced to come in our way, and if we are seldom able to judge of the depth of feeling of those with whom we are familiar, how much less of those who feel our presence a restraint.'
'Intense feeling mocks restraint,' said Lily.
'Violent, not intense,' said Mr. Devereux. 'Besides, you talk of cultivating the affections. Now what do you mean? Exercising them, or talking about them?'
'Ah!' said Emily, 'the affection of a poor person is more tried; we blame a poor man for letting his old mother go to the workhouse, without considering how many of us would do the same, if we had as little to live upon.'
'Still,' said Alethea, 'the same man who would refuse to maintain her if poor, would not bear with her infirmities if rich.'
'Are the poor never infirm and peevish?' said Mr. Devereux.
'Oh! how much worse it must be to bear with ill-temper in poverty,'
said Emily, 'when we think it quite wonderful to see a young lady kind and patient with a cross old relation; what must it be when she is denying herself, not only her pleasure, but her food for her sake; not merely sitting quietly with her all day, and calling a servant to wait upon her, but toiling all day to maintain her, and keeping awake half the night to nurse her?'