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Page 24
Mary sat silent for a while, till at last her brother reminded her
that the notes must be answered, and she got up, and placed her desk
before her, took out her pen and paper, wrote on it slowly:
PAKENHAM VILLAS
Tuesday morning
MY DEAR ELEANOR,
I--
and then stopped, and looked at her brother.
"Well, Mary, why don't you write it?"
"Oh, John," said she, "dear John, pray think better of this."
"Think better of what?" said he.
"Of this about the hospital,--of all this about Mr Harding,--of what
you say about those old men. Nothing can call upon you,--no duty can
require you to set yourself against your oldest, your best friend.
Oh, John, think of Eleanor. You'll break her heart, and your own."
"Nonsense, Mary; Miss Harding's heart is as safe as yours."
"Pray, pray, for my sake, John, give it up. You know how dearly you
love her." And she came and knelt before him on the rug. "Pray
give it up. You are going to make yourself, and her, and her father
miserable: you are going to make us all miserable. And for what? For
a dream of justice. You will never make those twelve men happier than
they now are."
"You don't understand it, my dear girl," said he, smoothing her hair
with his hand.
"I do understand it, John. I understand that this is a chimera,--a
dream that you have got. I know well that no duty can require you to
do this mad--this suicidal thing. I know you love Eleanor Harding
with all your heart, and I tell you now that she loves you as well.
If there was a plain, a positive duty before you, I would be the last
to bid you neglect it for any woman's love; but this--; oh, think
again, before you do anything to make it necessary that you and Mr
Harding should be at variance." He did not answer, as she knelt
there, leaning on his knees, but by his face she thought that he was
inclined to yield. "At any rate let me say that you will go to this
party. At any rate do not break with them while your mind is in
doubt." And she got up, hoping to conclude her note in the way she
desired.
"My mind is not in doubt," at last he said, rising. "I could never
respect myself again were I to give way now, because Eleanor Harding
is beautiful. I do love her: I would give a hand to hear her tell
me what you have said, speaking on her behalf; but I cannot for her
sake go back from the task which I have commenced. I hope she may
hereafter acknowledge and respect my motives, but I cannot now go as
a guest to her father's house." And the Barchester Brutus went out
to fortify his own resolution by meditations on his own virtue.
Poor Mary Bold sat down, and sadly finished her note, saying that she
would herself attend the party, but that her brother was unavoidably
prevented from doing so. I fear that she did not admire as she should
have done the self-devotion of his singular virtue.
The party went off as such parties do. There were fat old ladies, in
fine silk dresses, and slim young ladies, in gauzy muslin frocks; old
gentlemen stood up with their backs to the empty fire-place, looking
by no means so comfortable as they would have done in their own
arm-chairs at home; and young gentlemen, rather stiff about the neck,
clustered near the door, not as yet sufficiently in courage to attack
the muslin frocks, who awaited the battle, drawn up in a semicircular
array. The warden endeavoured to induce a charge, but failed
signally, not having the tact of a general; his daughter did what she
could to comfort the forces under her command, who took in refreshing
rations of cake and tea, and patiently looked for the coming
engagement: but she herself, Eleanor, had no spirit for the work; the
only enemy whose lance she cared to encounter was not there, and she
and others were somewhat dull.
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