Chương Chương 2 · Mrs. John Dashwood now installed herself mistress of Norland; and her

. Mrs. John Dashwood now installed herself mistress of Norland; and her

mother and sisters-in-law were degraded to the condition of visitors.

As such, however, they were treated by her with quiet civility; and by

her husband with as much kindness as he could feel towards anybody

beyond himself, his wife, and their child. He really pressed them, with

some earnestness, to consider Norland as their home; and, as no plan

appeared so eligible to Mrs. Dashwood as remaining there till she could

accommodate herself with a house in the neighbourhood, his invitation

was accepted.

A continuance in a place where everything reminded her of former

delight, was exactly what suited her mind. In seasons of cheerfulness,

no temper could be more cheerful than hers, or possess, in a greater

degree, that sanguine expectation of happiness which is happiness

itself. But in sorrow she must be equally carried away by her fancy,

and as far beyond consolation as in pleasure she was beyond alloy.

Mrs. John Dashwood did not at all approve of what her husband intended

to do for his sisters. To take three thousand pounds from the fortune

of their dear little boy would be impoverishing him to the most

dreadful degree. She begged him to think again on the subject. How

could he answer it to himself to rob his child, and his only child too,

of so large a sum? And what possible claim could the Miss Dashwoods,

who were related to him only by half blood, which she considered as no

relationship at all, have on his generosity to so large an amount. It

was very well known that no affection was ever supposed to exist

between the children of any man by different marriages; and why was he

to ruin himself, and their poor little Harry, by giving away all his

money to his half sisters?

“It was my father’s last request to me,” replied her husband, “that I

should assist his widow and daughters.”

“He did not know what he was talking of, I dare say; ten to one but he

was light-headed at the time. Had he been in his right senses, he could

not have thought of such a thing as begging you to give away half your

fortune from your own child.”

“He did not stipulate for any particular sum, my dear Fanny; he only

requested me, in general terms, to assist them, and make their

situation more comfortable than it was in his power to do. Perhaps it

would have been as well if he had left it wholly to myself. He could

hardly suppose I should neglect them. But as he required the promise, I

could not do less than give it; at least I thought so at the time. The

promise, therefore, was given, and must be performed. Something must be

done for them whenever they leave Norland and settle in a new home.”

“Well, then, _let_ something be done for them; but _that_ something

need not be three thousand pounds. Consider,” she added, “that when the

money is once parted with, it never can return. Your sisters will

marry, and it will be gone for ever. If, indeed, it could be restored

to our poor little boy—”

“Why, to be sure,” said her husband, very gravely, “that would make

great difference. The time may come when Harry will regret that so

large a sum was parted with. If he should have a numerous family, for

instance, it would be a very convenient addition.”

“To be sure it would.”

“Perhaps, then, it would be better for all parties, if the sum were

diminished one half.—Five hundred pounds would be a prodigious increase

to their fortunes!”

“Oh! beyond anything great! What brother on earth would do half so much

for his sisters, even if _really_ his sisters! And as it is—only half

blood!—But you have such a generous spirit!”

“I would not wish to do any thing mean,” he replied. “One had rather,

on such occasions, do too much than too little. No one, at least, can

think I have not done enough for them: even themselves, they can hardly

expect more.”

“There is no knowing what _they_ may expect,” said the lady, “but we

are not to think of their expectations: the question is, what you can

afford to do.”

“Certainly—and I think I may afford to give them five hundred pounds

a-piece. As it is, without any addition of mine, they will each have

about three thousand pounds on their mother’s death—a very comfortable

fortune for any young woman.”

“To be sure it is; and, indeed, it strikes me that they can want no

addition at all. They will have ten thousand pounds divided amongst

them. If they marry, they will be sure of doing well, and if they do

not, they may all live very comfortably together on the interest of ten

thousand pounds.”

“That is very true, and, therefore, I do not know whether, upon the

whole, it would not be more advisable to do something for their mother

while she lives, rather than for them—something of the annuity kind I

mean.—My sisters would feel the good effects of it as well as herself.

A hundred a year would make them all perfectly comfortable.”

His wife hesitated a little, however, in giving her consent to this

plan.

“To be sure,” said she, “it is better than parting with fifteen hundred

pounds at once. But, then, if Mrs. Dashwood should live fifteen years

we shall be completely taken in.”

“Fifteen years! my dear Fanny; her life cannot be worth half that

purchase.”

“Certainly not; but if you observe, people always live for ever when

there is an annuity to be paid them; and she is very stout and healthy,

and hardly forty. An annuity is a very serious business; it comes over

and over every year, and there is no getting rid of it. You are not

aware of what you are doing. I have known a great deal of the trouble

of annuities; for my mother was clogged with the payment of three to

old superannuated servants by my father’s will, and it is amazing how

disagreeable she found it. Twice every year these annuities were to be

paid; and then there was the trouble of getting it to them; and then

one of them was said to have died, and afterwards it turned out to be

no such thing. My mother was quite sick of it. Her income was not her

own, she said, with such perpetual claims on it; and it was the more

unkind in my father, because, otherwise, the money would have been

entirely at my mother’s disposal, without any restriction whatever. It

has given me such an abhorrence of annuities, that I am sure I would

not pin myself down to the payment of one for all the world.”

“It is certainly an unpleasant thing,” replied Mr. Dashwood, “to have

those kind of yearly drains on one’s income. One’s fortune, as your

mother justly says, is _not_ one’s own. To be tied down to the regular

payment of such a sum, on every rent day, is by no means desirable: it

takes away one’s independence.”

“Undoubtedly; and after all you have no thanks for it. They think

themselves secure, you do no more than what is expected, and it raises

no gratitude at all. If I were you, whatever I did should be done at my

own discretion entirely. I would not bind myself to allow them any

thing yearly. It may be very inconvenient some years to spare a

hundred, or even fifty pounds from our own expenses.”

“I believe you are right, my love; it will be better that there should

be no annuity in the case; whatever I may give them occasionally will

be of far greater assistance than a yearly allowance, because they

would only enlarge their style of living if they felt sure of a larger

income, and would not be sixpence the richer for it at the end of the

year. It will certainly be much the best way. A present of fifty

pounds, now and then, will prevent their ever being distressed for

money, and will, I think, be amply discharging my promise to my

father.”

“To be sure it will. Indeed, to say the truth, I am convinced within

myself that your father had no idea of your giving them any money at

all. The assistance he thought of, I dare say, was only such as might

be reasonably expected of you; for instance, such as looking out for a

comfortable small house for them, helping them to move their things,

and sending them presents of fish and game, and so forth, whenever they

are in season. I’ll lay my life that he meant nothing farther; indeed,

it would be very strange and unreasonable if he did. Do but consider,

my dear Mr. Dashwood, how excessively comfortable your mother-in-law

and her daughters may live on the interest of seven thousand pounds,

besides the thousand pounds belonging to each of the girls, which

brings them in fifty pounds a year a-piece, and, of course, they will

pay their mother for their board out of it. Altogether, they will have

five hundred a-year amongst them, and what on earth can four women want

for more than that?—They will live so cheap! Their housekeeping will be

nothing at all. They will have no carriage, no horses, and hardly any

servants; they will keep no company, and can have no expenses of any

kind! Only conceive how comfortable they will be! Five hundred a year!

I am sure I cannot imagine how they will spend half of it; and as to

your giving them more, it is quite absurd to think of it. They will be

much more able to give _you_ something.”

“Upon my word,” said Mr. Dashwood, “I believe you are perfectly right.

My father certainly could mean nothing more by his request to me than

what you say. I clearly understand it now, and I will strictly fulfil

my engagement by such acts of assistance and kindness to them as you

have described. When my mother removes into another house my services

shall be readily given to accommodate her as far as I can. Some little

present of furniture too may be acceptable then.”

“Certainly,” returned Mrs. John Dashwood. “But, however, _one_ thing

must be considered. When your father and mother moved to Norland,

though the furniture of Stanhill was sold, all the china, plate, and

linen was saved, and is now left to your mother. Her house will

therefore be almost completely fitted up as soon as she takes it.”

“That is a material consideration undoubtedly. A valuable legacy

indeed! And yet some of the plate would have been a very pleasant

addition to our own stock here.”

“Yes; and the set of breakfast china is twice as handsome as what

belongs to this house. A great deal too handsome, in my opinion, for

any place _they_ can ever afford to live in. But, however, so it is.

Your father thought only of _them_. And I must say this: that you owe

no particular gratitude to him, nor attention to his wishes; for we

very well know that if he could, he would have left almost everything

in the world to _them_.”

This argument was irresistible. It gave to his intentions whatever of

decision was wanting before; and he finally resolved, that it would be

absolutely unnecessary, if not highly indecorous, to do more for the

widow and children of his father, than such kind of neighbourly acts as

his own wife pointed out.