CHAPTER XXVI
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CHAPTER XXVI, THE TENENT OF WINDFELL HALL by Anne Bronte
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Sept. 23rd. - Our guests arrived about three weeks ago. Lord and
Lady Lowborough have now been married above eight months; and I
will do the lady the credit to say that her husband is quite an
altered man; his looks, his spirits, and his temper, are all
perceptibly changed for the better since I last saw him. But there
is room for improvement still. He is not always cheerful, nor
always contented, and she often complains of his ill-humour, which,
however, of all persons, she ought to be the last to accuse him of,
as he never displays it against her, except for such conduct as
would provoke a saint. He adores her still, and would go to the
world's end to please her. She knows her power, and she uses it
too; but well knowing that to wheedle and coax is safer than to
command, she judiciously tempers her despotism with flattery and
blandishments enough to make him deem himself a favoured and a
happy man.
But she has a way of tormenting him, in which I am a fellow-
sufferer, or might be, if I chose to regard myself as such. This
is by openly, but not too glaringly, coquetting with Mr.
Huntingdon, who is quite willing to be her partner in the game; but
I don't care for it, because, with him, I know there is nothing but
personal vanity, and a mischievous desire to excite my jealousy,
and, perhaps, to torment his friend; and she, no doubt, is actuated
by much the same motives; only, there is more of malice and less of
playfulness in her manoeuvres. It is obviously, therefore, my
interest to disappoint them both, as far as I am concerned, by
preserving a cheerful, undisturbed serenity throughout; and,
accordingly, I endeavour to show the fullest confidence in my
husband, and the greatest indifference to the arts of my attractive
guest. I have never reproached the former but once, and that was
for laughing at Lord Lowborough's depressed and anxious countenance
one evening, when they had both been particularly provoking; and
then, indeed, I said a good deal on the subject, and rebuked him
sternly enough; but he only laughed, and said, - 'You can feel for
him, Helen, can't you?'
'I can feel for anyone that is unjustly treated,' I replied, 'and I
can feel for those that injure them too.'
'Why, Helen, you are as jealous as he is!' cried he, laughing still
more; and I found it impossible to convince him of his mistake.
So, from that time, I have carefully refrained from any notice of
the subject whatever, and left Lord Lowborough to take care of
himself. He either has not the sense or the power to follow my
example, though he does try to conceal his uneasiness as well as he
can; but still, it will appear in his face, and his ill-humour will
peep out at intervals, though not in the expression of open
resentment - they never go far enough for that. But I confess I do
feel jealous at times, most painfully, bitterly so; when she sings
and plays to him, and he hangs over the instrument, and dwells upon
her voice with no affected interest; for then I know he is really
delighted, and I have no power to awaken similar fervour. I can
amuse and please him with my simple songs, but not delight him
thus.
28th. - Yesterday, we all went to the Grove, Mr. Hargrave's much-
neglected home. His mother frequently asks us over, that she may
have the pleasure of her dear Walter's company; and this time she
had invited us to a dinner-party, and got together as many of the
country gentry as were within reach to meet us. The entertainment
was very well got up; but I could not help thinking about the cost
of it all the time. I don't like Mrs. Hargrave; she is a hard,
pretentious, worldly-minded woman. She has money enough to live
very comfortably, if she only knew how to use it judiciously, and
had taught her son to do the same; but she is ever straining to
keep up appearances, with that despicable pride that shuns the
semblance of poverty as of a shameful crime. She grinds her
dependents, pinches her servants, and deprives even her daughters
and herself of the real comforts of life, because she will not
consent to yield the palm in outward show to those who have three
times her wealth; and, above all, because she is determined her
cherished son shall be enabled to 'hold up his head with the
highest gentlemen in the land.' This same son, I imagine, is a man
of expensive habits, no reckless spendthrift and no abandoned
sensualist, but one who likes to have 'everything handsome about
him,' and to go to a certain length in youthful indulgences, not so
much to gratify his own tastes as to maintain his reputation as a
man of fashion in the world, and a respectable fellow among his own
lawless companions; while he is too selfish to consider how many
comforts might be obtained for his fond mother and sisters with the
money he thus wastes upon himself: as long as they can contrive to
make a respectable appearance once a year, when they come to town,
he gives himself little concern about their private stintings and
struggles at home. This is a harsh judgment to form of 'dear,
noble-minded, generous-hearted Walter,' but I fear it is too just.
Mrs. Hargrave's anxiety to make good matches for her daughters is
partly the cause, and partly the result, of these errors: by
making a figure in the world, and showing them off to advantage,
she hopes to obtain better chances for them; and by thus living
beyond her legitimate means, and lavishing so much on their
brother, she renders them portionless, and makes them burdens on
her hands. Poor Milicent, I fear, has already fallen a sacrifice
to the manoeuvrings of this mistaken mother, who congratulates
herself on having so satisfactorily discharged her maternal duty,
and hopes to do as well for Esther. But Esther is a child as yet,
a little merry romp of fourteen: as honest-hearted, and as
guileless and simple as her sister, but with a fearless spirit of
her own, that I fancy her mother will find some difficulty in
bending to her purposes.
