Part 19 (1/2)
”He bore this reproof with more patience than she had expected. As she had made no exception to his person and understanding, both of which he rated very highly, he could better bear with the charge brought against his principles, on which he did not set so great a value. She had indeed wounded his pride, but not in the part where it was most vulnerable. 'If that be all,' said he gayly, 'the objection is at an end; your charming society will reform me, your influence will raise my principles, and your example will change my character.'
”'What, my lord,' said she, her courage increasing with her indignation, 'this from _you_? From you, who declared only this morning, that the work of changing the heart was too great for the Almighty himself? You do not now scruple to declare that it is in _my_ power. That work which is too hard for Omnipotence, your flattery would make me believe a weak girl can accomplish. No, my lord, I will never add to the number of those rash women who have risked their eternal happiness on this vain hope. It would be too late to repent of my folly, after my presumption had incurred its just punishment.'
”So saying, she left the summer-house with a polite dignity, which, as he afterward told me, increased his pa.s.sion, while it inflamed his pride almost to madness. Finding she refused to appear, he quitted the house, but not his design. His applications have since been repeated, but though he has met with the firmest repulses, both from the parents and the daughter, he can not be prevailed upon to relinquish his hope. It is so far a misfortune to us, as Lucilla now never comes near us, except he is known not to be in the country. Had the objection been to his person, or fortune, he says, as it would have been substantial, it might have been insuperable; but where the only ground of difference is mere matter of opinion, he is sure that time and perseverance will conquer such a chimerical objection.”
I returned to the Grove, not only cured of every jealous feeling, but transported with such a decisive proof of the dignity and purity of Miss Stanley's mind.
CHAPTER x.x.xI.
Miss Sparkes, a neighboring lady, whom the reputation of being a wit and an amazon, had kept single at the age of five-and-forty, though her person was not disagreeable, and her fortune considerable, called in one morning while we were at breakfast. She is remarkable for her pretension to odd and opposite qualities. She is something of a scholar, and a huntress, a politician, and a farrier. She outrides Mr. Flam, and outargues Mr. Tyrrel; excels in driving four in hand, and in canva.s.sing at an election. She is always anxious about the party, but never about the candidate, in whom she requires no other merit but his being in the opposition, which she accepts as a pledge for all other merit. In her adoption of any talent, or her exercise of any quality, it is always sufficient recommendation to her that it is not feminine.
From the window we saw her descend from her lofty phaeton, and when she came,
The cap, the whip, the masculine attire,
the loud voice, the intrepid look, the independent air, the whole deportment indicated a disposition rather to confer protection than to accept it.
She made an apology for her intrusion, by saying that her visit was rather to the stable than the breakfast-room. One of her horses was a little lame, and she wanted to consult Mr. Stanley's groom, who, it seems, was her oracle in that science, in which she herself is a professed adept.
During her short visit, she labored so sedulously not to diminish by her conversation the character she was so desirous to establish, that her efforts defeated the end they aimed to secure. She was witty with all her might, and her sarcastic turn, for wit it was not, made little amends for her want of simplicity. I perceived that she was fond of the bold, the marvelous, and the incredible. She ventured to tell a story or two, so little within the verge of ordinary probability, that she risked her credit for veracity without, perhaps, really violating truth. The credit acquired by such relations seldom pays the relator for the hazard run by the communication.
As we fell into conversation, I observed the peculiarities of her character. She never sees any difficulties in any question. Whatever the topic is started, while the rest of the company are hesitating as to the propriety of their determination, she alone is never at a loss. Her answer always follows the proposition, without a moment's interval for examination herself, or for allowing any other person a chance of delivering an opinion.
Mr. Stanley, who always sets an example of strict punctuality to his family, had to-day come in to perform his daily devotions somewhat later than usual. I could perceive that he had been a little moved. His countenance wanted something of its placid serenity, though it seemed to be seriousness untinctured with anger. He confessed while we were at breakfast, that he had been spending above an hour in bringing one of his younger children to a sense of a fault she had committed. ”She has not,” said he, ”told an absolute falsehood, but in what she said there was prevarication, there was pride, there was pa.s.sion. Her perverseness has at length given way. Tears of resentment are changed into tears of contrition. But she is not to appear in the drawing-room to-day. She is to be deprived of the honor of carrying food to the poor in the evening.
Nor is she to furnish her contribution of nosegays to Rachel's basket.
This is a mode of punishment we prefer to that of curtailing any personal indulgences; the importance we should a.s.sign to the privation would be setting too much value on the enjoyment.”
”You should be careful, Mr. Stanley,” said Miss Sparkes, ”not to break the child's spirit. Too tight a rein will check her generous ardor, and curb her genius. I would not subdue the independence of her mind, and make a tame dull animal of a creature whose very faults give indications of a soaring nature.” Even Lady Belfield, to whose soft and tender heart the very sound of punishment, or even privation, carried a sort of terror, asked Mr. Stanley ”if he did not think he had taken-up a trifling offense too seriously, and punished it too severely.”
”The thing is a trifle in itself,” replied he, ”but infant prevarication unnoticed, and unchecked, is the prolific seed of subterfuge, of expediency, of deceit, of falsehood, of hypocrisy.”
”But the dear little creature,” said Lady Belfield, ”is not addicted to equivocation. I have always admired her correctness in her pleasant prattle.”
”It is for that very reason,” replied Mr. Stanley, ”that I am so careful to check the first indication of the contrary tendency. As the fault is a solitary one, I trust the punishment will be so too. For which reason I have marked it in a way to which her memory will easily recur. Mr.
Brandon, an amiable friend of mine, but of an indolent temper, through a negligence in watching over an early propensity to deceit, suffered his only son to run on from one stage of falsehood to another, till he settled down in a most consummate hypocrite. His plausible manners enabled him to keep his more turbulent vices out of sight. Impatient when a youth of that contradiction to which he had never been accustomed when a boy, he became notoriously profligate. His dissimulation was at length too thin to conceal from his mistaken father his more palpable vices. His artifices finally involved him in a duel, and his premature death broke the heart of my poor friend.
”This sad example led me in my own family to watch this evil in the bud.
Divines often say that unbelief lies at the root of all sin. This seems strikingly true in our conniving at the faults of our children. If we really believed the denunciations of Scripture, could we for the sake of a momentary gratification, not so much to our child as to ourselves (which is the case in all blamable indulgence), overlook that fault which may be the germ of unspeakable miseries! In my view of things, deceit is no slight offense; I feel myself answerable in no small degree for the eternal happiness of these beloved creatures whom Providence has especially committed to my trust.”
”But it is such a severe trial,” said Lady Belfield, ”to a fond parent to inflict voluntary pain!”
”Shall we feel for their pain and not for their danger?” replied Mr.
Stanley. ”I wonder how parents who love their children as I love mine, can put in compet.i.tion a temporary indulgence, which may foster one evil temper, or fasten one bad habit, with the eternal welfare of that child's soul. A soul of such inconceivable worth, whether we consider its nature, its duration, or the price which was paid for its redemption! What parent, I say, can by his own rash negligence, or false indulgence, risk the happiness of such a soul, not for a few days or years, but for a period compared with which the whole duration of time is but a point? A soul of such infinite faculties, which has a capacity for improving in holiness and happiness, through all the countless ages of eternity?”
Observing Sir John listen with some emotion, Mr. Stanley went on: ”What remorse, my dear friend, can equal the pangs of him who has reason to believe that his child has not only lost this eternity of glory, but incurred an eternity of misery, through the carelessness of that parent who a.s.signed his very fondness as a reason for his neglect? Think of the state of such a father, when he figures to himself the thousands and ten thousands of glorified spirits that stand before the throne, and his darling excluded--excluded perhaps by his own ill-judging fondness. Oh, my friends, disguise it as we may, and deceive ourselves as we will, want of faith is as much at the bottom of this sin as of all others.