Chapter 12: Faith Of The Frontline
Although it was already the middle of December, the bad weather had not yet interrupted the walks of the two young girls. The next day Amanda decided to go and visit a poor family who lived a little beyond Highbury. To get there you had to pass through Vicarage Lane where the parsonage stood: it was an old house of modest appearance, located almost on the edge of the road and to which the present owner endeavored to give a character of elegance and comfort. Arrived at this place the two young girls slowed down to look at the facade. Amanda says:
"This is where you are destined to come and live someday!"
Oh ! what a pretty house, said Harriet, here are the yellow curtains that Miss Nash admires so much!
"I rarely pass this way," said Amanda, "but at some point I shall be particularly drawn to it: all the hedges, the railings, the pools of this part of Highbury will become familiar to me. Harriet had never crossed the threshold of the parsonage and did not try to hide her curiosity.
'I would like nothing better than to grant your wish,' said Amanda, 'but I can think of no plausible pretext for entering: no inquiry to be made about a servant; then I would have a reason to question the housekeeper; no message from my father...
After a few moments of silence, Harriet continued:
"I wonder, Miss Burton, how come you are not married or about to be, attractive as you are!"
Amanda laughed and replied:
"Let's admit that I am, indeed, Harriet: that is not a sufficient reason to push me to marriage." Not only am I not on the eve of getting married, but I have no intention of ever getting married.
"You say so, but I cannot believe it.
"To change my mind, I would have to meet someone far superior to any I have seen so far (Mr. Elton, of course, is out of the question) and to to tell the truth I don't want to meet this phoenix: I'd rather not be tempted. I can only lose by the change and if I decided to get married, I would probably regret it later.
"Really, I can't understand why a woman speaks like that!"
"I don't have any of the usual reasons why women get married." If I fell in love with someone, then it would be quite different; but, so far I have remained unscathed and I truly believe that it is not in my nature to get enthusiastic. Without the motive of love, I would be very foolish to abandon a situation like mine: I need neither money, nor occupations, nor social importance; few married women are so self-possessed at home as I am at Hartfield; I cannot hope to hold a more preponderant place elsewhere; am I sure to find in another man as complete an approval of all my actions as I find in my father? Without a doubt. But, in the end, you'll end up being a spinster like Miss Bates!
"Here's a terrible evocation, Harriet, and if I ever thought I looked like Miss Bates, if I should become so foolish, so complacent, so smiling, so talkative, so undistinguished, I'd take a husband tomorrow!" But I am convinced that there can never be any resemblance between us other than the very fortuitous one of having remained single.
"And yet you will be an old maid, which is appalling!"
'Don't worry, Harriet, I'll never be a poor spinster; and it is poverty alone that makes celibacy contemptible in the eyes of the public! A single woman with a small income is quite often ridiculous! But a single woman with a good income is always respectable and nothing prevents her from being as intelligent and as agreeable as anyone else. This distinction is not so unjust as it seems at first sight, for a mean income contributes to narrowing the intelligence and souring the character. What I say does not, however, apply to Miss Bates, too commonplace and too foolish to please me, but whose heart is excellent: I truly believe that if she had only a shilling she would give out half of it.
"But what will you do?" How will you use your time when you are old?
If I am not deluded, Harriet, I have an active, independent nature and have many resources; I don't see why I shouldn't be able to occupy my leisure time as well at fifty as at twenty-one. Women's occupations, manual and intellectual, will not fail me any more than today. As for objects of interest to my affection, I shall not lack them. I will be able to devote myself to the children of a sister whom I cherish. There will most likely be enough of them to furnish me with all the species of sensations upon which life in its decline feeds; they will give me matter to hope and to fear. No doubt, I will not feel for any of them the tenderness that is the prerogative of parents, but my mood will gladly accommodate a feeling calmer and less blind than maternal love. Often one of my nieces will keep me company.
"Do you know Miss Bates' niece, or rather are you in touch with her?"
Oh ! yes, we are bound to see her whenever she comes to Hartfield. I want to believe that Miss Bates' example will save me from an exaggerated admiration for my nieces. May Heaven save me at least from boring people about all the Knightleys put together only half as much as Miss Bates does about Jeanne Fairfax; the mere sound of this name has become a fatigue for me. Each of his letters is read and re-read at least forty times, compliments intended for his friends are passed on indefinitely; if she sends her aunt the pattern for a belt or knits a pair of garters for her grandmother, you don't hear of anything else for a month. I wish Jane Fairfax all the best, but she bores me to death.
They were now nearing the end of their walk and their conversation took another turn. Amanda was very charitable; the poor always found in her not only pecuniary assistance but also the comfort of her attention, her advice and her patience. She understood their way of being, excused their ignorance, sympathized with their temptations and did not expect to find extraordinary virtues in them. She took part in their grief and always came to their aid with intelligence and goodwill. In this particular case, her visit was intended not only to distribute relief to the needy, but also to remedy the suffering of a sick person. She left the house, impressed at the sight of so much misery. Outside, she says:
"These are shows, Harriet, that make you feel good. How insignificant everything looks beside it! It seems to me that I will no longer be able to detach my mind from these poor creatures all the rest of the days.
"You are right," replied Harriet, "poor creatures! Amanda closed the gate placed at the end of the path that crossed the small garden.
Amanda took a last look at the shabby appearance of the place and evoked the misery it concealed. They found themselves on the road which, at this point, turned sharply and once the curve had been crossed the two young girls suddenly saw Mr. Elton coming towards them: he was so close that Amanda barely had time to say:
Oh! Harriet, this is going to test our faithfulness to good thoughts. Either way, the bottom line is that our compassion has brought some relief to those who are suffering. If we pity the unfortunate enough to help them within our means, we are doing our duty; beyond that it is only a vain sympathy, useless to others and harmful to oneself.
They were then joined by the walker. Mr. Elton was just about to go and see the unfortunate family in whom Amanda was interested. They sought together what remedies could be brought to such a sad situation and decided on the measures to be taken. Then postponing his visit until the next day, Mr. Elton asked permission to accompany them.
This meeting, thought Amanda, over which charity presides, is particularly happy. Nothing could be more favorable to the development of love; I would not be surprised if the statement followed; my presence is the only obstacle.
Eager to stay out of the way as much as possible, Amanda took a narrow path that overlooked the main road where the other two were walking together. But she hadn't been there two minutes when she noticed that Harriet, accustomed to following and imitating her, was hastening to join her; it didn't suit her: she stopped immediately under the pretext of tying her shoelaces and bending over so as to completely obstruct the passage, she begged them to keep going until she joined them. ; they did as she asked. Just when she thought it reasonable to have finished what she was doing, she was lucky enough to find a new reason to linger: she was, indeed, greeted by one of the children of the family she had just visited and who in accordance to the instructions received, headed for Hartfield carrying a container to bring back some broth. Nothing more natural than to walk beside the little girl and question her; yet Amanda was unwittingly gaining ground on her two unhurried companions; she regretted it all the more because they seemed absorbed in an interesting conversation.
Mr. Elton spoke animatedly, Harriet listened with playful attention. Amanda, having sent the child forward, was wondering how she could manage to change into a pillar of salt when, at the same moment, they both turned and she was forced to come closer. Mr. Elton continued his sentence, and Amanda was disappointed to hear that he was telling his fair girlfriend an account of the party at Mr. Cole's.
"That beginning could of course have led to a satisfying conclusion," she thought consolingly; all subjects are good for lovers and any kind of conversation can serve as a pretext for sentimental confidences. If only I could have stayed away a little longer"Amanda thought to herself.
They walked together until they were in sight of the presbytery enclosure: at this moment Amanda had a sudden inspiration and she discovered the way to get Harriet into the house: she noticed a new fault in the arrangement of his shoe and stopped once more; she then tore off the shoelace and threw it stealthily into the ditch. This done, she begged her companions to stop and confessed her embarrassment:
"Most of my shoelace is gone," she said, "and I'm not sure what I'm going to do. In truth, I am very troublesome company to you two, but I hope you will agree that I am seldom so ill-equipped. Mr. Elton, I must ask you to allow me to stop at your house and have recourse to your housekeeper, who will find me a piece of ribbon or string to hold my shoe on.
This proposal seemed to cause Mr. Elton real delight; he did the honors of his house with the best grace in the world. The room he led them to was the one he usually occupied; they chatted for a few moments, then Amanda, followed by the housekeeper, who had placed herself entirely at her disposal, entered an adjoining room; the connecting door lay open, and she was forced to leave it: she expected Mr. Elton to shut it; Perceiving that he did not intervene, Amanda at once struck up a lively conversation with the housekeeper, in order to give Mr. Elton an opportunity of discussing with Harriet whatever subject he pleased. After ten minutes she had to put an end to the interview and her arrangements. She found the lovers standing in front of one of the windows; Appearances were favourable, and for half a minute she tasted the glory of triumph. She soon learned, however, that no decisive step had been taken. Mr. Elton had been particularly amiable and charming; he had confided to Harriet that he had seen them pass and that it was not without intention that he had taken the same path; he had made a few gallant allusions, but nothing serious. He's extremely cautious, Amanda thought, he's taking it step by step and doesn't want to risk anything until he feels sure he's approved.
Although the success she expected had not crowned her ingenious stratagem, Amanda was nevertheless satisfied to have procured for the two lovers a pleasant tete-a-tete which would probably hasten the happy ending.
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