MACKAREL LANE
“For I would lonely stand
Uplifting my white hand,
On a mission, on a mission,
To declare the coming vision.”
Elizabeth
Barrett Browning.
“Well, Grace, all things considered, perhaps
I had better walk down with you to Mackarel Lane,
and then I can form a judgment on these Williamses
without committing Fanny.”
“Then you do not intend to go on teaching?”
“Not while Conrade continues to brave me, and
is backed up by poor Fanny.”
“I might speak to Miss Williams after church,
and bring her in to Myrtlewood for Fanny to see.”
“Yes, that might do in time; but I shall make
up my mind first. Poor Fanny is so easily led
that we must take care what influences fall in her
way.”
“I always wished you would call.”
“Yes, and I would not by way of patronage to
please Mr. Touchett, but this is for a purpose; and
I hope we shall find both sisters at home.”
Mackarel Lane was at right angles to the shore, running
up the valley of the Avon; but it soon ceased to be
fishy, and became agricultural, owning a few cottages
of very humble gentility, which were wont to hang
out boards to attract lodgers of small means.
At one of these Grace rang, and obtained admittance
to a parlour with crazy French windows opening on
a little strip of garden. In a large wheeled
chair, between the fire and the window, surrounded
by numerous little appliances for comfort and occupation,
sat the invalid Miss Williams, holding out her hand
in welcome to the guests.
“A fine countenance! what one calls a fine countenance!”
thought Rachel. “Is it a delusion of insipidity
as usual? The brow is good, massive, too much
for the features, but perhaps they were fuller once;
eyes bright and vigorous, hazel, the colour for thought;
complexion meant to be brilliant brunette, a pleasant
glow still; hair with threads of grey. I hope
she does not affect youth; she can’t be less
than one or two and thirty! Many people set up
for beauties with far less claim. What is the
matter with her? It is not the countenance of
deformity—accident, I should say.
Yes, it is all favourable except the dress.
What a material; what a pattern! Did she get
it second-hand from a lady’s-maid? Will
there be an incongruity in her conversation to match?
Let us see. Grace making inquiries—Quite
at my best—Ah! she is not one of the morbid
sort, never thinking themselves better.”
“I was afraid, I had not seen you out for some
time.”
“No; going out is a troublesome business, and
sitting in the garden answers the same purpose.”
“Of air, perhaps, but hardly of change or of
view.”
“Oh! I assure you there is a wonderful
variety,” she answered, with an eager and brilliant
smile.
“Clouds and sunsets?” asked Rachel, beginning
to be interested.
