Chapters 15 to 19

Section 7 of Mr. Harrison's Confessions by Elizabeth Gaskell. Chapter 15 About this time there was a sale at Ash Meadow, a pretty house in the neighbourhood of Duncan. It was likewise an easy walk, and the spring days tempted many people thither, who had no intention of buying anything, but who liked the idea of rambling through the woods, gay with early primroses and wild daffodils, and of seeing the gardens and house, which till now had been shut up from the ingress of the townspeople. Mrs. Rose had planned to go, but an unlucky cold prevented her. She begged me to bring her a very particular account, saying she delighted in details, and always questioned the late Mr. Rose as to the side dishes of the dinners to which she went. The late Mr. Rose's conduct was always held up as a model to me, by the way. I walked to Ash Meadow, pausing or loitering with different parties of townspeople, all bound in the same direction. At last I found the vicar and Sophie, and with them I stayed. I sat by Sophie and talked and listened. A sale is a very pleasant gathering after all. The auctioneer in a country place is privileged to joke from his rostrum, and having a personal knowledge of most of the people, can sometimes make a very keen hit at their circumstances, and turn the laugh against them. For instance, on the present occasion, there was a farmer present with his wife, who was notoriously the grey mare. The auctioneer was selling some horse-cloths, and called out to recommend the article to her, telling her, with a knowing look at the company, that they would make her a dashing pair of trousers if she was in want of such an article. She drew herself up with dignity, and said, Come, John, we've had enough of these. Whereupon there was a burst of laughter, and in the midst of it, John meekly followed his wife out of the place. The furniture in the sitting-room was, I believe, very beautiful, but I did not notice it much. Suddenly I heard the auctioneer speaking to me, Mr. Harrison, won't you give me a bid for this table? It was a very pretty little table of walnut wood. I thought it would go into my study very well, so I gave him a bid. I saw Miss Horseman bidding against me, so I went off with full force, and at last it was knocked down to me. The auctioneer smiled and congratulated me. A most useful present for Mrs. Harrison, when that lady comes. Everybody laughed. They like a joke about marriage, it is so easy of comprehension. But the table which I had thought was for writing, turned out to be a work-table, scissors and thimble complete. No wonder I looked foolish. Sophie was not looking at me, that was one comfort. She was busy arranging a nose-gay of wooden enemy and wild sorrow. Miss Horseman came up with her curious eyes. I had no idea things were far enough advanced for you to be purchasing a work-table, Mr. Harrison. I laughed off my awkwardness. Did not you, Miss Horseman? You are very much behind hand. You have not heard of my piano, then? No, indeed, said she, half uncertain whether I was serious or not. Then it seems there is nothing wanting but the lady. Perhaps she may not be wanting either, said I, for I wished to perplex her keen curiosity. CHAPTER XVI When I got home from my round, I found Mrs. Rose in some sorrow. Miss Horseman called after you left, said she. Have you heard how John Browker is at Highport? Very well, replied I. I called on his wife just now, and she had just got a letter from him. She had been anxious about him, for she had not heard for a week. However, all's right now, and she has pretty well of work at Mrs. Munton's, as her servant is ill. Oh, they'll do, never fear. At Mrs. Munton's? Oh, that accounts for it, then. She is so deaf, and makes such blunders. Accounts for what? asked I. Oh, perhaps I had better not tell you, hesitated Mrs. Rose. Yes, tell me at once. I beg your pardon, but I hate mysteries. You are so like my poor dear Mr. Rose. He used to speak to me in just that sharp cross way. It is only that Miss Horseman called. She had been making a collection for John Browker's widow, and— But the man's alive, said I. So it seems. But Mrs. Munton had told her that he was dead, and she has got Mr. Morgan's name down at the head of the list, and Mr. Bullock's. Mr. Morgan and I had got into a short, cool way of speaking to each other, ever since we had differed so much about the treatment of Browker's arm, and I had heard once or twice of his shakes of the head over John's case. He would not have spoken against my method for the world, and fancied that he concealed his fears. Miss Horseman is very ill-natured, I think, sighed forth Mrs. Rose. I saw that something had been said of which I had not heard, for the mere fact of collecting money for the widow was good-natured, whoever did it. So I asked quietly what she had said. Oh, I don't know if I should tell you. I only know she made me cry, for I am not well, and I can't bear to hear anyone I live with abused. Come, this was pretty plain. What did Miss Horseman say of me, asked I, half laughing, for I knew there was no love lost between us. Oh, she only said she wondered you could go to sales and spend your money there, when your ignorance had made Jane Browker a widow, and her children fatherless. Pooh! pooh! John's alive, and likely to live as long as you or I, thanks to you, Mrs. Rose. When my work-table came home, Mrs. Rose was so struck with its beauty and completeness, and I was so much obliged to her for her identification of my interests with hers, and the kindness of her whole conduct about John, that I begged her to accept of it. She seemed very much pleased, and after a few apologies she consented to take it, and placed it in the most conspicuous part of the front parlour, where she usually sat. There was a good deal of morning calling in Duncombe, after the sale, and during this time the fact of John's being alive was established to the conviction of all, except Miss Horseman, who I believe still doubted. I myself told Mr. Morgan, who immediately went to reclaim his money, saying to me that he was thankful of the information, he was truly glad to hear it, and he shook me warmly by the hand for the first time in a month. Chapter 17 A few days after the sale I was in the consulting-room. The servant must have left the folding doors a little ajar, I think. Mrs. Munton came to call on Mrs. Rose, and the former, being deaf, I heard all the speeches of the latter lady, as she was obliged to speak very loudly in order to be heard. She began, This is a great pleasure, Mrs. Munton, so seldom as you are well enough to go out. Mumble, mumble, mumble, through the door. Oh, very well, thank you. Take this seat, and then you can admire my new work-table, ma'am. A present from Mr. Harrison. Mumble, mumble. Who could have told you, ma'am? Miss Horseman? Oh, yes, I showed it, Miss Horseman. Mumble, mumble. I don't quite understand you, ma'am. Mumble, mumble. I'm not blushing, I believe. I really am quite in the dark as to what you mean. Mumble, mumble. Oh, yes, Mr. Harrison and I are most comfortable together. He reminds me so of my dear Mr. Rose, just as fidgety and anxious in his profession. Mumble, mumble. I'm sure you are joking now, ma'am. Then I heard a pretty loud, Oh, no! Mumble, mumble, mumble, for a long time. Did he really? Well, I'm sure I don't know. I should be sorry to think he was doomed to be unfortunate in so serious an affair. But you know my undying regard for the late Mr. Rose. Another long mumble. You're very kind, I'm sure. Mr. Rose always thought more of my happiness than his own. A little crying. But the turtle dove has always been my ideal, ma'am. Mumble, mumble. No one could have been happier than I. As you say, it is a compliment to matrimony. Mumble. Oh, but you must not repeat such a thing. Mr. Harrison would not like it. He can't bear to have his affairs spoken about. Then there was a change of subject, an inquiry after some poor person, I imagine. I heard Mrs. Rose say, A commiserating mumble. Not always fatal, I believe. Mr. Rose knew some cases that lived for years after it was discovered that they had a mucous membrane. A pause. Then Mrs. Rose spoke in a different tone. Are you sure, ma'am, there is no mistake about what he said? Mumble. Pray don't be so observant, Mrs. Munton. You find out too much. One can have no little secrets. The call broke up, and I heard Mrs. Munton say in the passage, I wish you joy, ma'am, with all my heart. There's no use denying it, for I've seen all along what would happen. When I went in to dinner, I said to Mrs. Rose, You've had Mrs. Munton here, I think. Did she bring any news? To my surprise, she bridled and simpered, and replied, Oh, you must not ask, Mr. Harrison, such foolish reports. I did not ask, as she seemed to wish me not. And I knew there were silly reports always about. Then I think she was vexed that I did not ask. Altogether, she went on so strangely that I could not help looking at her. And then she took up a hand-screen and held it between me and her. I really felt rather anxiously. Are you not feeling well? said I innocently. Oh, thank you. I believe I'm quite well. Only the room is rather warm, is it not? Let me put the blinds down for you. The sun begins to have a good deal of power. I drew down the blinds. You are so attentive, Mr. Harrison. Mr. Rose himself never did more for my little wishes than you do. I wish I could do more. I wish I could show you how much I feel. Her kindness to John Browker, I was going on to say. But I was just then called out to a patient. Before I went, I turned back and said, Take care of yourself, my dear Mrs. Rose. You had better rest a little. For your sake, I will, she said tenderly. I did not care for whose sake she did it, only I really thought she was not quite well and required rest. I thought she was more affected than usual at tea-time and could have been angry with her nonsensical ways once or twice. But that I knew the real goodness of her heart. She said she wished she had the power to sweeten my life as she could my tea. I told her what a comfort she had been all during my late time of anxiety. And then I stole out to try if I could hear the evening singing at the vicarage by standing close to the garden wall. Chapter 18 The next morning I met Mr. Bullock by appointment to talk a little about the legacy which was paid into his hands. As I was leaving his office, feeling full of my riches, I met Miss Horseman. She smiled rather grimly and said, Oh, Mr. Harrison, I must congratulate, I believe. I don't know whether I ought to have known, but as I do, I must wish you joy. A very nice little sum, too. I always said you would have money. So, she had found out my legacy, had she? Well, it was no secret, and one likes the reputation of being a person of property. Accordingly, I smiled and said I was much obliged to her, and if I could alter the figures to my liking, she might congratulate me still more. She said, Oh, Mr. Harrison, you can't have everything. It would be better the other way, certainly. Money is the great thing, as you found out. The relation died most opportunely, I must say. He was no relative, said I, only an intimate friend. Dear hum me, I thought it had been a brother. Well, at any rate, the legacy is safe. I wished her good morning and passed on. Before long, I was sent for to Miss Tomkinson's. Miss Tomkinson sat in severe state to receive me. I went in with an air of ease, because I always felt too uncomfortable. Is this true that I hear? asked she in an inquisitorial manner. I thought she alluded to my five hundred pounds, so I smiled and said that I believed it was. Can money be so great an object with you, Mr. Harrison? she asked again. I said I had never cared much for money, except as an assistance to any plan of settling in life. And then, as I did not like her severe way of treating the subject, I said that I hoped everyone was well. Though, of course, I expected someone was ill, or I should not have been sent for. Miss Tomkinson looked very grave and sad. Then she answered, Caroline is very poorly. The old palpitations at the heart, but of course that is nothing to you. I said I was very sorry. She had a weakness there, I knew. Could I see her? I might be able to order something for her. I thought I heard Miss Tomkinson say something in a low voice about my being a heartless deceiver. Then she spoke up. I was always distrustful of you, Mr. Harrison. I never liked your looks. I begged Caroline again and again not to confide in you. I foresaw how it would end. And now I fear her precious life will be a sacrifice. I begged her not to distress herself, for in all probability there was very little the matter with her sister. Might I see her? No, she said shortly, standing up as if to dismiss me. There has been too much of the seeing and calling. By my consent you shall never see her again. I bowed. I was annoyed, of course. Such a dismissal might injure my practice just when I was most anxious to increase it. Have you no apology, no excuse to offer? I said I had done my best. I did not feel that there was any reason to offer an apology. I wished her good morning. Suddenly she came forward. Oh, Mr. Harrison, said she, if you have really loved Caroline, do not let a little paltry money make you desert her for another. I was struck dumb. Loved Miss Caroline? I loved Miss Tomkinson a great deal better, and yet I disliked her. She went on. I have saved nearly three thousand pounds. If you think you are too poor to marry without money, I will give it all to Caroline. I am strong and can go on working, but she is weak, and this disappointment will kill her. She sat down suddenly and covered her face with her hands. Then she looked up. You are unwilling, I see. Don't suppose I would have urged you if it had been for myself. But she has had so much sorrow, and now she fairly cried aloud. I tried to explain, but she would not listen, but kept saying, leave the house, sir, leave the house. But I would be heard. I have never had any feelings warmer than respect for Miss Caroline, and I have never shown any different feeling. I never for an instant thought of making her my wife, and she has had no cause in my behaviour to imagine I entertain any such intention. This is adding insult to injury, said she. Leave the house, sir, this instant. Chapter 19 I went, sadly enough. In a small town, such an occurrence is sure to be talked about, and to make a great deal of mischief. When I went home to dinner, I was so full of it, and foresaw so clearly that I should need some advocate soon to set the case in its right light, that I determined on making a confidant of good Mrs. Rose. I could not eat. She watched me tenderly, and sighed when she saw my want of appetite. I am sure you have something on your mind, Mr. Harrison. Would it not be a relief to impart it to some sympathising friend? It was just what I wanted to do. My dear, kind Mrs. Rose, said I, I must tell you if you will listen. She took up the fire-screen and held it as yesterday between me and her. The most unfortunate misunderstanding has taken place. Miss Tomkinson thinks that I have been paying attentions to Miss Caroline, when, in fact, may I tell you, Mrs. Rose, my affections are placed elsewhere. Perhaps you have found it out already. For, indeed, I thought I had been too much in love to conceal my attachment to Sophie from anyone who knew my movements as well as Mrs. Rose. She hung down her head, and said she believed she had found out my secret. Then, only think how miserably I am situated. If I have any hope, oh, Mrs. Rose, do you think I have any hope? She put the hand-screen still more before her face, and after some hesitation she said she thought, if I persevered, in time I might have hope. And then she suddenly got up and left the room.