But what was to be done about her children! The
first thing, of course, was to reproach her husband.
“You see, Mr. Germaine, the effect of the pretty
education you have given that boy of yours. I
am sure, if he had not gone with us last summer into
Leicestershire, my Maude would not have been in the
least troublesome to Lady Mary.”
“On the contrary, my dear, I have heard Lady
Mary herself say, twenty times, that Charles was the
best of the two; and I am persuaded, if Maude had
been away, the boy would have become quite a favourite.”
“There you are utterly mistaken, I can assure
you, my dear; for you know you are no great favourite
of Lady Mary’s yourself; and I have often heard
her say that Charles is your image.”
“It is very extraordinary that all your great
relations show us so little civility, my dear.
They do not seem to have much regard for you.”
“They have regard enough for me, and showed
it formerly; but of late, to be sure, I confess, things
are altered. They never have been so cordial
since my marriage, and, all things considered, I scarcely
know how to blame them.”
Mr. Germaine bowed, by way of thanking his lady for
this compliment. She besought him not to bow
so like a man behind a counter, if he could possibly
help it. He replied, it became him to submit to
be schooled by a wife, who was often taken for his
mother. At length, when every species of reproach,
mental and personal, which conjugal antipathy could
suggest, had been exhausted, the orators recurred to
the business of the day, and to the question, “What
is to be done with the children whilst we are at Lady
Mary Crawley’s?”
In this embarrassment we must leave the Germaines
for the present, and refresh ourselves with a look
at a happy circle—the family of Mr. Darford,
where there is no discordance of opinions, of tastes,
or of tempers; none of those evils which arise sometimes
from the disappointment and sometimes from the gratification
of vanity and pride.
Mr. Darford succeeded beyond his most sanguine expectations
in the management of his business. Wealth poured
in upon him; but he considered wealth, like a true
philosopher, only as one of the means of happiness:
he did not become prodigal or avaricious; neither did
he ever feel the slightest ambition to quit his own
station in society. He never attempted to purchase
from people of superior rank admission into their
circles, by giving luxurious and ostentatious entertainments.
He possessed a sturdy sense of his own value, and
commanded a species of respect very different from
that which is paid to the laced livery or the varnished
equipage.
The firmness of his character was, however, free from
all severity: he knew how to pardon in others
the weakness and follies from which he was himself
exempt. Though his cousin was of such a different
character, and though, since his marriage, Mr. Germaine
had neglected his old friends, William felt more compassion
for his unhappiness than resentment for his faults.
In the midst of his own family, William would often
say, “I wish poor Charles may ever be as happy
as we are!” Frequently, in his letters to London
correspondents, he desired them to inquire, privately,
how Mr. Germaine went on.
