Pride and Prudence CHAPTER 11.
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"It's too bad! I'm out of all patience!" ejaculated Mrs. Ashton, as soon as her sister had left the house. "But I don't believe a word of it. I don't believe she's got a cent of money from her husband's estate, say what you will."
"It is true, you may be sure, mother."
"Then why didn't she speak of it? Why didn't she tell me about it? What does she mean by talking to us about renting that cheap, old house?"
"I don't think, mother," George said, respectfully, "that we have any just cause to find fault with aunt, for not having mentioned her good fortune."
"Well, I think we have," was replied.
"I don't know," Jane remarked, "why she did not mention it to us. She must have known that it would give us sincere pleasure."
"The reason is plain enough. I see it as clearly as if she had told me. She was afraid we would want a dollar or two."
"O no, no — no, mother! don't say so," quickly spoke up Jane. "Aunt Este is too generous, too noble-hearted, to be governed in any act, by so base a motive."
"There, there — Don't talk to me about her nobleness and generosity. Do you think I would — "
The memory of what she had done flashed suddenly across her mind, and caused Mrs. Ashton to pause and look slightly confused. She was going to say, "Do you think I would act so selfish a part towards her, if I were to receive a large sum of money?" But her conduct had been far worse than anything she attributed to her sister, and a sudden consciousness of this, put a seal upon her lips.
A long silence followed, painful to all. George and Jane felt acutely the unkind conduct of their mother. She had wronged their aunt by unjust suspicions, and had insulted her at the very moment when she was seeking their good.
"I am sure, mother," Jane at length ventured to say, breaking through the oppressive reserve, "that aunt means to be kind and generous to us. Has she not always been so? What would we have done without her?"
"Kind and generous, indeed! Don't talk in that way to me, Jane. It's very kind and generous, no doubt, for her, with thirty or forty thousand dollars, as George says, to come and offer to bear half the rent of a miserable old house. I never heard of such selfishness."
"But, mother," said George, "aunt does not feel that it would be prudent for her to increase her expenses just now. She wishes, no doubt, to manage well all her resources, until William gets of age, so that she may set him up in business with a good capital.
"Set him up in business!" This was spoken sneeringly. "Oh yes. That's what she's looking to. Set William Este up in business, to squander all she's got. What miserable folly! Much good he'll do in business! But that's the way with some people — they're never satisfied. All I can say is, that Mary is acting like a downright fool. I'd never pinch myself in the way she's doing for any child. No, indeed — not I! There never was a child yet, which didn't prove ungrateful in the end!"
These ungenerous remarks cut George and Jane to the heart. With all her weakness and self-love, their affection was strong for their mother. They would have, willingly, made any sacrifice for her; and were sacrificing everything in their power to secure her comfort. To have their motives so rudely and unjustly assailed, was a severe trial. But they bore it patiently, and in silence. Both George and his sister at once saw, that any attempt to vindicate their aunt was useless. Her uniform kindness impressed them both with a high regard for her; and this, no complaint or sneer of their mother, could affect.
As soon as William Este had left the house of Mrs. Ashton, in company with his mother, on the evening that the proposition to rent a larger house had been rejected, he said indignantly —
"I see nothing to cause me to change my opinion of aunt Ashton. She's a selfish, proud, insulting woman, and I wouldn't care if I never saw her again."
"I would rather not hear you talk so, William," his mother said, in a mild, reproving voice. "You should pity your aunt — not feel angry at her."
"I don't see that she is worthy of my pity. And as to my not feeling angry, how can I hear you insulted and not be angry. It is not in me, mother, to bear this!"
"Think only of the good you might do your aunt; and try to forget everything that causes you to feel excited against her. She is not happy."
"Happy? No. I would think her one of the most miserable creatures in existence."
"Should you not pity those who are miserable?"
"If they make themselves miserable?"
"I do not see, William, that you need inquire as to the cause of misery, before your pity is excited. They whose wretchedness depends upon their own perverted affections — are much more to be pitied than those who are made unhappy through the wrong conduct of others. The latter may possibly remove themselves from the cause of pain — but the former carry it ever in their bosoms! To them, there is no peace, day nor night. Bound to the rock of self-love, the vulture of unsatiated desire preys constantly upon their hearts! Do not, then, be angry with such, my son. If, in the agonies of pain, they speak bitter things against you and others, still regard them with a pity which would seek to unbind them from the rock of self-love to which they are fixed. If acute physical pain will make a man restless, peevish, and sometimes unkind in his remarks — how much more so severe mental pain. Forget, then, the words and manner of your aunt. Think of her as suffering under a sore disease, and seek to find for her a palliative, or a remedy."
"But she won't permit even you to do for her a kind act, without returning an insult."
"It is because there are scales on her eyes. She does not see clearly."
William still felt indignant towards his aunt. The insult offered to his mother, he could neither forget nor forgive. He knew not how often she had been thus insulted, even while making sacrifices for the good of her proud-minded sister. If he had, he would not have remained silent when his mother excused Mrs. Ashton.
"Shall we remain where we are, now that aunt Ashton has refused to join us in taking a house?" he asked, as they walked towards home.
"That is just what I am thinking about at this moment. What is your opinion?"
"I don't want to live with aunt Ashton," William said firmly.
"Don't you like George?"
"Very much, judging from the little I saw of him this evening. Jane, I have always liked.
"Wouldn't you like to live in the house with them?"
"Yes, very well. But their mother — I could not bear. She would be ever insulting both you and us. She evidently looks upon us with contempt — thinks us inferior, and will continue to do so. Now, I don't believe that we are called upon to make the great sacrifice of living with anyone who thus regards us. Do you?"
Mrs. Este remained silent.
"In fact," continued William, "it strikes me, the more I begin to think about it, that it would be wrong for our two families to be in the same house; for, I am sure, none of us could or would put up with aunt Ashton, if she made any insulting remarks to you. Of course, unpleasant feelings would arise between us and our cousins, and then a separation would take place. Such a breach would not very easily be healed."
"Sensibly said, William," his mother returned, " and well worth considering. I am anxious to have you cultivate kind feelings towards your cousins, for I like them very much.Adversity has brought out their good qualities. If, as it now strikes me might be the case, living in the same house would tend to destroy these feelings — I could not think for a moment of uniting with your aunt in renting a larger house."
"I do not think it would be the best course. Though, I must say, that it would give me sincere pleasure to be in the same house with George and Jane."
"At any rate, we will think about it seriously before determining to act. I cannot say that I regret the turn affairs have taken," Mrs. Este said.
Under this view of the case, the mother and her son returned home.
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