England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Families -- Fiction; Stepmothers -- Fiction
“I know what I’m talking about,” said Polly; “let them contradict me if
they dare. He comes here mostly every day. One of the girls is that
silly as to think he’s after her. After her! I hope as he has more
sense; he knows what’s what a deal too well for that. He takes his fun
out of them--that is what he does. But you may think yourself what kind
of feelings his family has--the Captain and me. That’s the one that
encourages him most,” Mrs. Despard added, pointing out Emma with her
finger. “She is always enticing the poor boy to come here.”
“Oh, you dreadful, false, wicked story!” cried Emma, flushed and crying.
“Oh, mother, it ain’t nothing of the kind! It was she as brought him
first. She didn’t mind who came when she was here. She said it was no
harm, it was only a bit of fun. We was always against it--at least Ellen
was,” added the culprit, bursting forth into sobs and tears.
“Yes, I always was,” said Ellen, demurely--it was not in human nature
not to claim the palm of superior virtue--“but it was not Emma, it was
Polly that began. I’ve heard her argue as it was no harm. She was the
first with the Captain, and then when young Mr. Despard----”
“I am not going to sit here, and listen to abuse of my family,” said
Polly, rising. “I wouldn’t have mentioned no names, for I can’t abide to
have one as belongs to me made a talk about in a place like this. I came
to give you a warning, ma’am, not these hardened things. It isn’t for
nothing a lady in my position comes down to the River Lane. I’ve got my
beautiful silk all in a muddle, and blacks upon a white bonnet is
ruination. I did it for your sake, Mrs. Welting, for I’ve always had a
respect for you. And now I’ve done my Christian duty,” said Polly, with
vehemence, shaking the dust from her blue silk. “There’s them that talk
about it, like that little Methody Ellen, but there ain’t many that do
it. But don’t let anybody suppose,” she cried, growing hotter and
hotter, “that I mean to do it any more! If you let him come here after
this, I won’t show you any mercy--we’ll have the law of you, my ’usband
and I. There’s laws against artful girls as entice poor innocent young
men. Don’t you go for to think,” cried Mrs. Despard, sweeping out while
they all gazed after her, speechless, “because I’ve once done my
Christian duty that I’m going to do it any more!”
We will not attempt to describe the commotion that followed--the
reproaches, the tears, the fury of the girls betrayed, of which none was
more hot than that of Ellen, who had to stand and hear herself called a
Methody--she who was conscious of being an Anglican and a Catholic
without blemish, and capable of anything in the world before Dissent.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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