Next morning, as I was sitting alone in the parlour, at work, my
brother came in. Never before had I received a visit from him. My
surprise, therefore, was not small. I started up with the confusion of a
stranger, and requested him, very formally, to be seated.
I instantly saw in his looks marks of displeasure, and, though
unconscious of meriting it, my trepidation increased. He took a seat
without speaking, and after some pause addressed me thus:--
"So, girl, I hear that you have been meddling with things that do not
concern you,--sowing dissension between the old man and me; presuming to
dictate to us how we are to manage our own property. He retailed to me,
last night, a parcel of impertinence with which you had been teasing him,
about this traveller Risberg, assuming, long before your time, the
province of his care-taker. Why, do you think," continued he,
contemptuously, "he'll ever return to marry you? Take my word for't, he's
no such fool. I _know_ that he never will."
The infirmity of my temper has been a subject of eternal regret to me;
yet it never displayed itself with much force, except under the lash of my
brother's sarcasms. My indignation on those occasions had a strange
mixture of fear in it, and both together suffocated my speech. I made no
answer to this boisterous arrogance.
"But come," continued he, "pray, let us hear your very wise objections
to a man's applying his own property to his own use. To rob himself and
spend the spoil upon another is thy sage maxim, it seems, for which thou
deservest to be dubbed a _she Solomon_. But let's see if thou art as
cunning in defending as in coining maxims. Come; there is a chair: lay it
on the floor, and suppose it a bar or rostrum, which thou wilt, and stand
behind it, and plead the cause of foolish prodigality against common
sense."
I endeavoured to muster up a little spirit, and replied, "I could not
plead before a more favourable judge. An appeal to my brother on behalf of
foolish prodigality could hardly fail of success. Poor common sense must
look for justice at some other tribunal."
His eyes darted fire. "Come, girl; none of your insolence. I did not
come here to be insulted."
"No; you rather came to commit than to receive an insult."
"Paltry distinguisher! to jest with you, and not chide you for your
folly, is to insult you, is it? Leave off romance, and stick to common
sense, and you will never receive any thing but kindness from me. But
come; if I must humour you, let me hear how you have found yourself out to
be wiser than your father and brother."
"I do not imagine, brother, that any good will result from our
discussing this subject. Education, or sex, if you please, has made a
difference in our judgments, which argument will never reconcile."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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