Lady Greystock’s woman now appeared, to desire she would come down to her lady. She immediately obeyed the summons, with a secret hope of hearing something of the conference. Her ladyship received her with an exulting laugh.
“I have good news to tell you, my dear,” exclaimed she; “that poor wretch, Rushbrook, has lost the friend who was to have supported him in the lawsuit; and the lawyers, finding the sheet-anchor gone, have steered off, and left him to shift for himself. The miserable creature and his family must certainly starve. Only think of his assurance. He came to say, indeed, he would now be satisfied with a compromise.” “Well, madam?” said Amanda.
“Well, madam,” repeated her ladyship, mimicking her manner; “I told him I must be a fool indeed, if ever I consented to such a thing, after his effrontery in attempting to litigate the will of his much-abused uncle, my dear, good Sir Geoffry. No, no; I bid him proceed in the suit, as all my lawyers were prepared; and, after so much trouble on both sides, it would be a pity the thing came to nothing.” “As your ladyship, however, knows his extreme distress, no doubt you will relieve it.” “Why, pray,” said her ladyship, smartly, “do you think he has any claim upon me?” “Yes,” replied Amanda, “if not upon your justice, at least upon your humanity.” “So you would advise me to fling away my money upon him?” “Yes,” replied Amanda, smiling, “I would. And, as your ladyship likes the expression, have you fling it away profusely.” “Well, well,” answered she, “when you arrive at my age, you will know the real value of wealth.” “I trust madam,” said Amanda, with spirit, “I know its real value already. We only estimate it differently.”
“And pray,” asked her ladyship, with a sneer, “how may you estimate it?”
“As the means, madam, of dispensing happiness around us. Of giving shelter to the houseless child of want, and joy to the afflicted heart; as a sacred deposit intrusted to us by an Almighty Power for those purposes, which, if so applied, will nourish placid and delightful reflections, that, like soothing friends, will crowd around us in the bed of sickness or death, alleviating the pains of one, and the terrors of the other.”
“Upon my word,” exclaimed Lady Greystock, “a fine flowery speech, and well calculated for a sentimental novel or a moral treatise for the improvement of youth. But I advise you, my dear, in future, to keep your queer and romantic notions to yourself, or else it will be suspected you have made romances your study; for you have just spoken as one of their heroines would have done.”
Amanda made no reply; yet as she beheld her ladyship seated in an easy-chair, by a blazing fire, with a large bowl of rich soup before her, which she took every morning, she could not forbear secretly exclaiming: “Hard-hearted woman! engrossed by your own gratifications, no ray of compassion can soften your nature for the misfortunes of others. Sheltered yourself from the tempests, you see it falling, without pity, on the head of wretchedness; and while you feast on luxuries, think without emotion of those who want even common necessaries.”
In the evening they went to a large party at the marchioness’s, but though the scene was gay and brilliant, it could not remove the pensiveness of Amanda’s spirits. The emaciated form of Rushbrook, returning to his desolate family, dwelt upon her mind. A little, she thought, as she surveyed the magnificence of the apartments, and the splendor of the company which crowded them, a little from this parade of vanity and wealth, would give relief to many a child of indigence. Never had the truth of the following lines so forcibly struck her imagination:—
“Ah, little think the gay, licentious crowd Whom pleasure, power, and affluence surround; They who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth And wanton, often cruel, riot waste; Ah, little think they, while they dance along, How many feel, this very moment, death, And all the sad variety of pain. How many drink the cup Of baleful grief, or eat the bitter bread Of misery, sore pierced by wintry winds? How many shrink into the sordid hut Of cheerless poverty?”
From such reflections as these she was disturbed by the entrance of Sir Charles Bingley. As usual, he took his station by her, and in a few minutes after him Lord Mortimer appeared. A party for vingt-un was formed, in which Amanda joined, from a wish of avoiding the assiduities of Sir Charles; but he took care to secure a seat next hers, and Lord Mortimer sat opposite to them.