England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Villages -- Fiction
‘What ends could she have had that were to be promoted by you?’ said the
Rector, with a smile. He was sufficiently used to these preposterous
notions women so often have of their own importance, prompting them to
think the attention of other people, who probably never thought of them,
is fixed upon them, and that intentions of various kinds are formed
respecting them, without the least foundation in fact. Thus his own wife
was in the habit of thinking that her girls were watched and followed;
that their movements and their dresses were the subject of constant
remark, when in all probability nobody even knew that they were there.
He was surprised, however, that his sister Emily should share this view.
‘We need not discuss that,’ she said. ‘James, I want to ask you--do you
think it is my duty by Mab to seek further acquaintance with her
father’s family? We are exceedingly well as we are. The allowance they
make is not large, but it is enough, and there is something settled on
Mab when I die. They have done their duty, if not very liberally, yet
they have done it. And I don’t want any more from them. Mab is quite
contented, she likes her home better than anything; and though she is a
very dear girl, and my hope and comfort, I don’t know if she is fitted
to shine in--what people call the great world. I might get them, of
course, to bring her out in a way more fitting, perhaps--to take her to
Court, and all that----’
‘I don’t see,’ said the Rector, ‘that that would do her much good.’ Men
ought not, to be sure, to be touched by any of those motives, which are
entirely feminine; but it did certainly flash across the Rector’s mind
that his own girls had none of these advantages, had never gone to Court
or anything of the kind, and yet could not be said to be any the worse.
‘No, that is just what I think. She is quite satisfied as she is: to go
out with her Pakenham cousins, probably to their annoyance and against
their will, and to be taken to places where she knew nobody, would be
no pleasure to my little girl. She is such a thoroughly reasonable,
sensible, understanding child. I am so glad that you agree with me on
that point, James.’
While she was speaking the Rector began to think that perhaps all was
not said in that hasty opinion of his, and that a man consulted by his
nearest relation should not be moved by any little trifling
feeling--like that which might be legitimate enough in a mother, about
his own girls. And he said, ‘Stop a little, Emily. You’re still quite a
young woman, but life is uncertain. Perhaps, you know, if anything were
to happen to you:--as long as you are there, that is all right, of
course--but she would be very forlorn, poor little thing, if she were
left----’
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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