England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Villages -- Fiction
‘Yes, yes,’ said Mrs. Plowden; ‘that was what we wanted, to be sure.
Emily, you won’t think anything more of the little fuss I’ve made about
Mr. Osborne, will you? You would think I meant that he intended to
slight my son. You know I couldn’t mean that. And he is a very good
curate, and James puts great confidence in him. It’s my nerves that get
the better of me. But Emmy always brings me up to the mark. Yes, about
Mrs. Swinford, that was it; did she come here, too?’
‘I believe so; but before we came in. She left a card with a message----
’
‘My dear Emily, I don’t think Mrs. Swinford is a very nice woman,’ said
Mrs. Plowden solemnly.
‘Don’t you?’ said Lady William, with a faint smile.
‘You see, girls,’ said the Rector’s wife, ‘your aunt will never say
anything. Perhaps it is prudent, but it’s a little confusing. One
doesn’t know what to say.’
‘If you think you will hurt my feelings, Jane, by speaking plainly,
don’t let that weigh upon your mind. I know very well what Mrs. Swinford
is, and I don’t care to make myself her champion.’
‘I don’t think she’s a nice woman,’ repeated the Rector’s wife; ‘I don’t
think she’s a good woman. She looks to me--notwithstanding that she
professes to be so fond of you, and Emily this and Emily that--as if she
would like to do you a bad turn.’
Lady William took this alarming statement quite calmly. ‘Indeed I should
not be surprised,’ she said, ‘but I don’t think it is in her power.’
‘We must try and make sure that it is not in her power. Don’t you think
she could perhaps do you harm with the family? It occurred to me, and
you will wonder to hear that it occurred to James. He said to me, “If
that woman can injure Emily she will.” Dear Emily, you have never been
such very good friends with the family, and they have never seen Mab.
You know I’ve always wanted you to do something. If you were to put
yourself forward a little----’
‘You are very kind, Jane, and James too. I don’t think the family can do
us much harm; we have what they chose to give us, and they will not give
us anything more, nor do I wish it. I have my pride, too.’
‘But their countenance, Emily!’
‘Their countenance!’ cried Lady William, rising to her feet with a quick
start of indignation. ‘To me! I want none of their countenance; I can’t
help bearing their name, and they cannot take it from me.’
‘Oh, my dear, my dear, there can be no question of that! They can’t take
away your rank, nor Mrs. Swinford either, whatever she may do. My
conviction,’ said Mrs. Plowden, nodding her head, ‘is that she can’t
bear the thought of your rank. If you should meet anywhere _out_, and
you were to pass before her, Emily--that’s the thought that she can’t
bear.’
A gleam of light passed over Lady William’s face. ‘That would be a
little compensation,’ she said, half to herself. ‘But don’t put such
hopes in my head,’ she added laughing; ‘she and I will never meet _out_,
alas!’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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