Penelope

by William Pitt Scargill

The doctor heeded not these words, but proceeded to say, with much tenderness of manner:

“But, my dear Penelope, you should not make yourself uneasy. Foreign letters are frequently delayed and detained from a variety of causes. I dare say you will soon have a sufficient explanation of this silence. I have often had your father’s letters two or even three together, after waiting a long while, and fearing that the correspondence had ceased.”

Penelope recovered her voice and more composedly replied; “Indeed, sir, it was not of Robert Darnley that I was going to speak; I was about to say that it was now time for me to go out into the world and no longer to be burdensome to you.”

“Burdensome to me, my dear child, how can you think of such a thing?”

“But, sir, it is painful to be in a state of dependence when one has the means of doing something for a maintenance. I am sure, my dear uncle, you would not mention the subject to me, and so I am compelled to speak first.”

“A state of dependence is a state in which we all are. We must be dependent on one another, it is the ordering of a wise Providence; it is the means by which we have the development and exercise of some of our best and purest feelings. Beside, you are yet too young to teach others, you have not finished your own education, you want experience. Pray do not talk of leaving me. If you say any more on this subject I shall be afraid your home is irksome.”

This was the most effectual appeal that could be made to Penelope; it silenced, but convinced her not. It is true that her home was irksome. It was annoying to her in spite of all her constitutional vivacity and acquired philosophy to be continually exposed to the open or covert reproaches of Mrs Greendale. For this very clever lady had exercised management in everything but in the government of her own temper. And true it is, though strange it may appear, that her own opinion of her own temper and habit of mind was exactly the converse of reality; so when we see our image reflected by a looking-glass, that which is our right hand appears as our left, and that which is our left appears as our right. Mrs Greendale thought herself a model of candour and good humour; and whenever she uttered reproaches against Penelope, which was not very seldom, she actually thought and believed that all the fault was in the young woman’s perverseness, vanity, or affectation, whereas the only fault was in her own distempered vision, which could see nothing good in her, against whom, for some unaccountable cause, she possessed a decided prejudice. For a mind thus constituted, there was obviously no remedy; Mrs Greendale could not profit by indirect hints, nor could she see in others of the same temperament a portraiture of herself. It was also in vain that Penelope attempted to please her; that was an absolute impossibility, and the dependent one had found it so by long and bitter experience. The poor girl therefore was not of opinion that she was burdensome to Dr Greendale, but she felt that Mrs Greendale was burdensome to her; she found that her elasticity of spirit was diminishing; she began to assume the air and aspect of one tried with far deeper troubles than the continual wearisomeness of undeserved reproaches. Though occasionally Dr Greendale had perceived something of this, and though he had given some gentle hints to that purpose to his better half, yet he had no idea of the extent to which the annoyance reached, and of the bitter pains of heart and spirit which it occasioned to his niece. The art of ingeniously tormenting was once made the subject of a lively little book, but the art is not to be learned; it comes as the spontaneous growth of the mind, and Mrs Greendale knew the art much better than the witty author of that treatise.

We have explained the situation in which Penelope was placed. But as every condition of humanity is more or less of a mixed nature, so in her state there were some alleviations. Her kind-hearted and benevolent uncle, so considerate and so gentle in his manner towards her, partly counterbalanced the pain which she experienced from the behaviour of her aunt. He was constantly endeavouring to encourage her with hopes that her situation was not destined to be for ever a state of dependence. He was perpetually dwelling upon the brightest view of her father’s prospects; and though Mr Primrose had now been fourteen years in India, and during that time had sent to England very little more than promises and flattering hopes, yet the worthy doctor was pertinacious in cleaving to the conviction, that his brother-in-law would eventually, and perhaps very soon, fulfil his promises, and realize the hopes which he had excited. As for himself, the uncle of Penelope would willingly have adopted her as his own, but this adoption would have been serviceable only during his natural life; for he had scarcely anything to call his own beyond the income of his living.

In the situation of Penelope there was also another circumstance, which might be said to be an alleviation; but which, in some of its bearings, was a source of deep anxiety. Robert Darnley, the son of the rector of Neverden, had very early in life, by means of strong interest, been appointed to a situation of great promise in India; and two years before the time of which we are writing had made a visit to England; during this visit an acquaintance had been formed between him and Miss Primrose, and this acquaintance was not met by any opposition on the part of the young gentleman’s parents. Mrs Greendale could not imagine what Mr and Mrs Darnley could see in Penelope to make them so partial to her, and she thought that a young man of such talents and prospects might make a far better match than with a young woman whose only portion was her pride, and a few useless accomplishments; for in this point of view did she regard her niece, or, to speak according to her own most frequent manner of expression, Dr Greendale’s niece. Mrs Greendale, to be sure, did not oppose the match, but she could not help giving a few hints as to the unreasonableness of the expectation that Penelope should consider the rectory as her home till she should be married. For, as the good lady well observed, there is no accounting for these young sparks, they may change their minds a thousand times; and then in such case what would the young woman be fit for, after living in expectation of becoming a fine lady, and at last being compelled to earn her own living? It may be imagined, and it might be described, how unceasingly eloquent was Mrs Greendale on these topics; and it may also be imagined that no great delicacy would be used as to the manner in which such precautionary reflections and admonitions were administered by the prudent and knowing wife of the book-loving rector of Smatterton. And as the worthy doctor gave himself up so closely to his studies, his dear wife took it for granted that he must be a mere ignoramus as to all worldly matters, and therefore she endeavoured to supply the deficiencies of his knowledge by the redundancy of her own.

Pleasing then as it might be to Penelope Primrose to look forward to competence and independence with one for whom she entertained a reverence as well as an affection, yet, in spite of her confidence in the mental stability and good sense of her destined husband, it was impossible not to be in some degree affected by the perpetual and unceasing repetition of hints and insinuations concerning human fickleness and juvenile inconstancy; more especially when these hints and insinuations were somewhat corroborated by the fact, that latterly the epistolary communications had diminished in frequency.