Grimworth, to a discerning eye, was a good place to set up shopkeeping in. There was no competition in it at present; the Church-people had their own grocer and draper; the Dissenters3 had theirs; and the two or three butchers found a ready market for their joints4 without strict reference to religious persuasion—except that the rector’s wife had given a general order for the veal5 sweet-breads and the mutton kidneys, while Mr. Rodd, the Baptist minister, had requested that, so far as was compatible with the fair accommodation of other customers, the sheep’s trotters might be reserved for him. And it was likely to be a growing place, for the trustees of Mr. Zephaniah Crypt’s Charity, under the stimulus6 of a late visitation by commissioners7, were beginning to apply long-accumulating funds to the rebuilding of the Yellow Coat School, which was henceforth to be carried forward on a greatly-extended scale, the testator having left no restrictions9 concerning the curriculum, but only concerning the coat.
The shopkeepers at Grimworth were by no means unanimous as to the advantages promised by this prospect10 of increased population and trading, being substantial men, who liked doing a quiet business in which they were sure of their customers, and could calculate their returns to a nicety. Hitherto, it had been held a point of honour by the families in Grimworth parish, to buy their sugar and their flannel11 at the shop where their fathers and mothers had bought before them; but, if newcomers were to bring in the system of neck-and-neck trading, and solicit12 feminine eyes by gown-pieces laid in fan-like folds, and surmounted13 by artificial flowers, giving them a factitious charm (for on what human figure would a gown sit like a fan, or what female head was like a bunch of China-asters?), or, if new grocers were to fill their windows with mountains of currants and sugar, made seductive by contrast and tickets,—what security was there for Grimworth, that a vagrant14 spirit in shopping, once introduced, would not in the end carry the most important families to the larger market town of Cattleton, where, business being done on a system of small profits and quick returns, the fashions were of the freshest, and goods of all kinds might be bought at an advantage?
With this view of the times predominant among the tradespeople at Grimworth, their uncertainty15 concerning the nature of the business which the sallow-complexioned stranger was about to set up in the vacant shop, naturally gave some additional strength to the fears of the less sanguine16. If he was going to sell drapery, it was probable that a pale-faced fellow like that would deal in showy and inferior articles—printed cottons and muslins which would leave their dye in the wash-tub, jobbed linen17 full of knots, and flannel that would soon look like gauze. If grocery, then it was to be hoped that no mother of a family would trust the teas of an untried grocer. Such things had been known in some parishes as tradesmen going about canvassing18 for custom with cards in their pockets: when people came from nobody knew where, there was no knowing what they might do. It was a thousand pities that Mr. Moffat, the auctioneer and broker19, had died without leaving anybody to follow him in the business, and Mrs. Cleve’s trustee ought to have known better than to let a shop to a stranger. Even the discovery that ovens were being put up on the premises20, and that the shop was, in fact, being fitted up for a confectioner and pastry21-cook’s business, hitherto unknown in Grimworth, did not quite suffice to turn the scale in the newcomer’s favour, though the landlady22 at the Woolpack defended him warmly, said he seemed to be a very clever young man, and from what she could make out, came of a very good family; indeed, was most likely a good many people’s betters.
It certainly made a blaze of light and colour, almost as if a rainbow had suddenly descended23 into the market-place, when, one fine morning, the shutters24 were taken down from the new shop, and the two windows displayed their decorations. On one side, there were the variegated25 tints26 of collared and marbled meats, set off by bright green leaves, the pale brown of glazed27 pies, the rich tones of sauces and bottled fruits enclosed in their veil of glass—altogether a sight to bring tears into the eyes of a Dutch painter; and on the other, there was a predominance of the more delicate hues28 of pink, and white, and yellow, and buff, in the abundant lozenges, candies, sweet biscuits and icings, which to the eyes of a bilious29 person might easily have been blended into a faëry landscape in Turner’s latest style. What a sight to dawn upon the eyes of Grimworth children! They almost forgot to go to their dinner that day, their appetites being preoccupied30 with imaginary sugar-plums; and I think even Punch, setting up his tabernacle in the market-place, would not have succeeded in drawing them away from those shop-windows, where they stood according to gradations of size and strength, the biggest and strongest being nearest the window, and the little ones in the outermost31 rows lifting wide-open eyes and mouths towards the upper tier of jars, like small birds at meal-time.
The elder inhabitants pished and pshawed a little at the folly32 of the new shopkeeper in venturing on such an outlay33 in goods that would not keep; to be sure, Christmas was coming, but what housewife in Grimworth would not think shame to furnish forth8 her table with articles that were not home-cooked? No, no. Mr. Edward Freely, as he called himself, was deceived, if he thought Grimworth money was to flow into his pockets on such terms.
Edward Freely was the name that shone in gilt34 letters on a mazarine ground over the doorplace of the new shop—a generous-sounding name, that might have belonged to the open-hearted, improvident35 hero of an old comedy, who would have delighted in raining sugared almonds, like a new manna-gift, among that small generation outside the windows. But Mr. Edward Freely was a man whose impulses were kept in due subordination: he held that the desire for sweets and pastry must only be satisfied in a direct ratio with the power of paying for them. If the smallest child in Grimworth would go to him with a halfpenny in its tiny fist, he would, after ringing the halfpenny, deliver a just equivalent in “rock.” He was not a man to cheat even the smallest child—he often said so, observing at the same time that he loved honesty, and also that he was very tender-hearted, though he didn’t show his feelings as some people did.
Either in reward of such virtue36, or according to some more hidden law of sequence, Mr. Freely’s business, in spite of prejudice, started under favourable38 auspices39. For Mrs. Chaloner, the rector’s wife, was among the earliest customers at the shop, thinking it only right to encourage a new parishioner who had made a decorous appearance at church; and she found Mr. Freely a most civil, obliging young man, and intelligent to a surprising degree for a confectioner; well-principled, too, for in giving her useful hints about choosing sugars he had thrown much light on the dishonesty of other tradesmen. Moreover, he had been in the West Indies, and had seen the very estate which had been her poor grandfather’s property; and he said the missionaries40 were the only cause of the negro’s discontent—an observing young man, evidently. Mrs. Chaloner ordered wine-biscuits and olives, and gave Mr. Freely to understand that she should find his shop a great convenience. So did the doctor’s wife, and so did Mrs. Gate, at the large carding-mill, who, having high connexions frequently visiting her, might be expected to have a large consumption of ratafias and macaroons.
The less aristocratic matrons of Grimworth seemed likely at first to justify41 their husbands’ confidence that they would never pay a percentage of profits on drop-cakes, instead of making their own, or get up a hollow show of liberal housekeeping by purchasing slices of collared meat when a neighbour came in for supper. But it is my task to narrate42 the gradual corruption43 of Grimworth manners from their primitive44 simplicity—a melancholy45 task, if it were not cheered by the prospect of the fine peripateia or downfall by which the progress of the corruption was ultimately checked.
It was young Mrs. Steene, the veterinary surgeons wife, who first gave way to temptation. I fear she had been rather over-educated for her station in life, for she knew by heart many passages in Lalla Rookh, the Corsair, and the Siege of Corinth, which had given her a distaste for domestic occupations, and caused her a withering46 disappointment at the discovery that Mr. Steene, since his marriage, had lost all interest in the “bulbul,” openly preferred discussing the nature of spavin with a coarse neighbour, and was angry if the pudding turned out watery—indeed, was simply a top-booted “vet.”, who came in hungry at dinner-time; and not in the least like a nobleman turned Corsair out of pure scorn for his race, or like a renegade with a turban and crescent, unless it were in the irritability47 of his temper. And scorn is such a very different thing in top-boots!
This brutal48 man had invited a supper-party for Christmas eve, when he would expect to see mince-pies on the table. Mrs. Steene had prepared her mince-meat, and had devoted49 much butter, fine flour, and labour, to the making of a batch50 of pies in the morning; but they proved to be so very heavy when they came out of the oven, that she could only think with trembling of the moment when her husband should catch sight of them on the supper-table. He would storm at her, she was certain; and before all the company; and then she should never help crying: it was so dreadful to think she had come to that, after the bulbul and everything! Suddenly the thought darted51 through her mind that this once she might send for a dish of mince-pies from Freely’s: she knew he had some. But what was to become of the eighteen heavy mince-pies? Oh, it was of no use thinking about that; it was very expensive—indeed, making mince-pies at all was a great expense, when they were not sure to turn out well: it would be much better to buy them ready-made. You paid a little more for them, but there was no risk of waste.
Such was the sophistry52 with which this misguided young woman—enough. Mrs. Steene sent for the mince-pies, and, I am grieved to add, garbled53 her household accounts in order to conceal54 the fact from her husband. This was the second step in a downward course, all owing to a young woman’s being out of harmony with her circumstances, yearning55 after renegades and bulbuls, and being subject to claims from a veterinary surgeon fond of mince-pies. The third step was to harden herself by telling the fact of the bought mince-pies to her intimate friend Mrs. Mole56, who had already guessed it, and who subsequently encouraged herself in buying a mould of jelly, instead of exerting her own skill, by the reflection that “other people” did the same sort of thing. The infection spread; soon there was a party or clique57 in Grimworth on the side of “buying at Freely’s”; and many husbands, kept for some time in the dark on this point, innocently swallowed at two mouthfuls a tart37 on which they were paying a profit of a hundred per cent., and as innocently encouraged a fatal disingenuousness58 in the partners of their bosoms59 by praising the pastry. Others, more keen-sighted, winked60 at the too frequent presentation on washing-days, and at impromptu61 suppers, of superior spiced-beef, which flattered their palates more than the cold remnants they had formerly62 been contented63 with. Every housewife who had once “bought at Freely’s” felt a secret joy when she detected a similar perversion64 in her neighbour’s practice, and soon only two or three old-fashioned mistresses of families held out in the protest against the growing demoralization, saying to their neighbours who came to sup with them, “I can’t offer you Freely’s beef, or Freely’s cheesecakes; everything in our house is home-made; I’m afraid you’ll hardly have any appetite for our plain pastry.” The doctor, whose cook was not satisfactory, the curate, who kept no cook, and the mining agent, who was a great bon vivant, even began to rely on Freely for the greater part of their dinner, when they wished to give an entertainment of some brilliancy. In short, the business of manufacturing the more fanciful viands65 was fast passing out of the hinds66 of maids and matrons in private families, and was becoming the work of a special commercial organ.
I am not ignorant that this sort of thing is called the inevitable67 course of civilization, division of labour, and so forth, and that the maids and matrons may be said to have had their hands set free from cookery to add to the wealth of society in some other way. Only it happened at Grimworth, which, to be sure, was a low place, that the maids and matrons could do nothing with their hands at all better than cooking: not even those who had always made heavy cakes and leathery pastry. And so it came to pass, that the progress of civilization at Grimworth was not otherwise apparent than in the impoverishment68 of men, the gossiping idleness of women, and the heightening prosperity of Mr. Edward Freely.
The Yellow Coat School was a double source of profit to the calculating confectioner; for he opened an eating-room for the superior workmen employed on the new school, and he accommodated the pupils at the old school by giving great attention to the fancy-sugar department. When I think of the sweet-tasted swans and other ingenious white shapes crunched69 by the small teeth of that rising generation, I am glad to remember that a certain amount of calcareous food has been held good for young creatures whose bones are not quite formed; for I have observed these delicacies70 to have an inorganic71 flavour which would have recommended them greatly to that young lady of the Spectator’s acquaintance who habitually72 made her dessert on the stems of tobacco-pipes.
As for the confectioner himself, he made his way gradually into Grimworth homes, as his commodities did, in spite of some initial repugnance73. Somehow or other, his reception as a guest seemed a thing that required justifying74, like the purchasing of his pastry. In the first place, he was a stranger, and therefore open to suspicion; secondly75, the confectionery business was so entirely76 new at Grimworth, that its place in the scale of rank had not been distinctly ascertained77. There was no doubt about drapers and grocers, when they came of good old Grimworth families, like Mr. Luff and Mr. Prettyman: they visited with the Palfreys, who farmed their own land, played many a game at whist with the doctor, and condescended78 a little towards the timber-merchant, who had lately taken to the coal-trade also, and had got new furniture; but whether a confectioner should be admitted to this higher level of respectability, or should be understood to find his associates among butchers and bakers79, was a new question on which tradition threw no light. His being a bachelor was in his favour, and would perhaps have been enough to turn the scale, even if Mr. Edward Freely’s other personal pretensions80 had been of an entirely insignificant81 cast. But so far from this, it very soon appeared that he was a remarkable82 young man, who had been in the West Indies, and had seen many wonders by sea and land, so that he could charm the ears of Grimworth Desdemonas with stories of strange fishes, especially sharks, which he had stabbed in the nick of time by bravely plunging83 overboard just as the monster was turning on his side to devour84 the cook’s mate; of terrible fevers which he had undergone in a land where the wind blows from all quarters at once; of rounds of toast cut straight from the breadfruit trees; of toes bitten off by land-crabs; of large honours that had been offered to him as a man who knew what was what, and was therefore particularly needed in a tropical climate; and of a Creole heiress who had wept bitterly at his departure. Such conversational85 talents as these, we know, will overcome disadvantages of complexion; and young Towers, whose cheeks were of the finest pink, set off by a fringe of dark whisker, was quite eclipsed by the presence of the sallow Mr. Freely. So exceptional a confectioner elevated the business, and might well begin to make disengaged hearts flutter a little.
Fathers and mothers were naturally more slow and cautious in their recognition of the newcomer’s merits.
“He’s an amusing fellow,” said Mr. Prettyman, the highly respectable grocer. (Mrs. Prettyman was a Miss Fothergill, and her sister had married a London mercer.) “He’s an amusing fellow; and I’ve no objection to his making one at the Oyster86 Club; but he’s a bit too fond of riding the high horse. He’s uncommonly87 knowing, I’ll allow; but how came he to go to the Indies? I should like that answered. It’s unnatural88 in a confectioner. I’m not fond of people that have been beyond seas, if they can’t give a good account how they happened to go. When folks go so far off, it’s because they’ve got little credit nearer home—that’s my opinion. However, he’s got some good rum; but I don’t want to be hand and glove with him, for all that.”
It was this kind of dim suspicion which beclouded the view of Mr. Freely’s qualities in the maturer minds of Grimworth through the early months of his residence there. But when the confectioner ceased to be a novelty, the suspicions also ceased to be novel, and people got tired of hinting at them, especially as they seemed to be refuted by his advancing prosperity and importance. Mr. Freely was becoming a person of influence in the parish; he was found useful as an overseer of the poor, having great firmness in enduring other people’s pain, which firmness, he said, was due to his great benevolence89; he always did what was good for people in the end. Mr. Chaloner had even selected him as clergyman’s churchwarden, for he was a very handy man, and much more of Mr. Chaloner’s opinion in everything about church business than the older parishioners. Mr. Freely was a very regular churchman, but at the Oyster Club he was sometimes a little free in his conversation, more than hinting at a life of Sultanic self-indulgence which he had passed in the West Indies, shaking his head now and then and smiling rather bitterly, as men are wont90 to do when they intimate that they have become a little too wise to be instructed about a world which has long been flat and stale to them.
For some time he was quite general in his attentions to the fair sex, combining the gallantries of a lady’s man with a severity of criticism on the person and manners of absent belles91, which tended rather to stimulate92 in the feminine breast the desire to conquer the approval of so fastidious a judge. Nothing short of the very best in the department of female charms and virtues93 could suffice to kindle94 the ardour of Mr. Edward Freely, who had become familiar with the most luxuriant and dazzling beauty in the West Indies. It may seem incredible that a confectioner should have ideas and conversation so much resembling those to be met with in a higher walk of life, but it must be remembered that he had not merely travelled, he had also bow-legs and a sallow, small-featured visage, so that nature herself had stamped him for a fastidious connoisseur95 of the fair sex.
At last, however, it seemed clear that Cupid had found a sharper arrow than usual, and that Mr. Freely’s heart was pierced. It was the general talk among the young people at Grimworth. But was it really love, and not rather ambition? Miss Fullilove, the timber-merchant’s daughter, was quite sure that if she were Miss Penny Palfrey, she would be cautious; it was not a good sign when men looked so much above themselves for a wife. For it was no less a person than Miss Penelope Palfrey, second daughter of the Mr. Palfrey who farmed his own land, that had attracted Mr. Freely’s peculiar96 regard, and conquered his fastidiousness; and no wonder, for the Ideal, as exhibited in the finest waxwork97, was perhaps never so closely approached by the Real as in the person of the pretty Penelope. Her yellowish flaxen hair did not curl naturally, I admit, but its bright crisp ringlets were such smooth, perfect miniature tubes, that you would have longed to pass your little finger through them, and feel their soft elasticity98. She wore them in a crop, for in those days, when society was in a healthier state, young ladies wore crops long after they were twenty, and Penelope was not yet nineteen. Like the waxen ideal, she had round blue eyes, and round nostrils99 in her little nose, and teeth such as the ideal would be seen to have, if it ever showed them. Altogether, she was a small, round thing, as neat as a pink and white double daisy, and as guileless; for I hope it does not argue guile100 in a pretty damsel of nineteen, to think that she should like to have a beau and be “engaged,” when her elder sister had already been in that position a year and a half. To be sure, there was young Towers always coming to the house; but Penny felt convinced he only came to see her brother, for he never had anything to say to her, and never offered her his arm, and was as awkward and silent as possible.
It is not unlikely that Mr. Freely had early been smitten101 by Penny’s charms, as brought under his observation at church, but he had to make his way in society a little before he could come into nearer contact with them; and even after he was well received in Grimworth families, it was a long while before he could converse102 with Penny otherwise than in an incidental meeting at Mr. Luff’s. It was not so easy to get invited to Long Meadows, the residence of the Palfreys; for though Mr. Palfrey had been losing money of late years, not being able quite to recover his feet after the terrible murrain which forced him to borrow, his family were far from considering themselves on the same level even as the old-established tradespeople with whom they visited. The greatest people, even kings and queens, must visit with somebody, and the equals of the great are scarce. They were especially scarce at Grimworth, which, as I have before observed, was a low parish, mentioned with the most scornful brevity in gazetteers103. Even the great people there were far behind those of their own standing104 in other parts of this realm. Mr. Palfrey’s farmyard doors had the paint all worn off them, and the front garden walks had long been merged105 in a general weediness. Still, his father had been called Squire106 Palfrey, and had been respected by the last Grimworth generation as a man who could afford to drink too much in his own house.
Pretty Penny was not blind to the fact that Mr. Freely admired her, and she felt sure that it was he who had sent her a beautiful valentine; but her sister seemed to think so lightly of him (all young ladies think lightly of the gentlemen to whom they are not engaged), that Penny never dared mention him, and trembled and blushed whenever they met him, thinking of the valentine, which was very strong in its expressions, and which she felt guilty of knowing by heart. A man who had been to the Indies, and knew the sea so well, seemed to her a sort of public character, almost like Robinson Crusoe or Captain Cook; and Penny had always wished her husband to be a remarkable personage, likely to be put in Mangnall’s Questions, with which register of the immortals107 she had become acquainted during her one year at a boarding-school. Only it seemed strange that a remarkable man should be a confectioner and pastry-cook, and this anomaly quite disturbed Penny’s dreams. Her brothers, she knew, laughed at men who couldn’t sit on horseback well, and called them tailors; but her brothers were very rough, and were quite without that power of anecdote108 which made Mr. Freely such a delightful109 companion. He was a very good man, she thought, for she had heard him say at Mr. Luff’s, one day, that he always wished to do his duty in whatever state of life he might be placed; and he knew a great deal of poetry, for one day he had repeated a verse of a song. She wondered if he had made the words of the valentine!—it ended in this way:—
“Without thee, it is pain to live,
But with thee, it were sweet to die.”
Poor Mr. Freely! her father would very likely object—she felt sure he would, for he always called Mr. Freely “that sugar-plum fellow.” Oh, it was very cruel, when true love was crossed in that way, and all because Mr. Freely was a confectioner: well, Penny would be true to him, for all that, and since his being a confectioner gave her an opportunity of showing her faithfulness, she was glad of it. Edward Freely was a pretty name, much better than John Towers. Young Towers had offered her a rose out of his button-hole the other day, blushing very much; but she refused it, and thought with delight how much Mr. Freely would be comforted if he knew her firmness of mind.
Poor little Penny! the days were so very long among the daisies on a grazing farm, and thought is so active—how was it possible that the inward drama should not get the start of the outward? I have known young ladies, much better educated, and with an outward world diversified110 by instructive lectures, to say nothing of literature and highly-developed fancy-work, who have spun111 a cocoon112 of visionary joys and sorrows for themselves, just as Penny did. Her elder sister Letitia, who had a prouder style of beauty, and a more worldly ambition, was engaged to a wool-factor, who came all the way from Cattelton to see her; and everybody knows that a wool-factor takes a very high rank, sometimes driving a double-bodied gig. Letty’s notions got higher every day, and Penny never dared to speak of her cherished griefs to her lofty sister—never dared to propose that they should call at Mr. Freely’s to buy liquorice, though she had prepared for such an incident by mentioning a slight sore throat. So she had to pass the shop on the other side of the market-place, and reflect, with a suppressed sigh, that behind those pink and white jars somebody was thinking of her tenderly, unconscious of the small space that divided her from him.
And it was quite true that, when business permitted, Mr. Freely thought a great deal of Penny. He thought her prettiness comparable to the loveliest things in confectionery; he judged her to be of submissive temper—likely to wait upon him as well as if she had been a negress, and to be silently terrified when his liver made him irritable113; and he considered the Palfrey family quite the best in the parish, possessing marriageable daughters. On the whole, he thought her worthy114 to become Mrs. Edward Freely, and all the more so, because it would probably require some ingenuity115 to win her. Mr. Palfrey was capable of horse-whipping a too rash pretender to his daughter’s hand; and, moreover, he had three tall sons: it was clear that a suitor would be at a disadvantage with such a family, unless travel and natural acumen116 had given him a countervailing power of contrivance. And the first idea that occurred to him in the matter was, that Mr. Palfrey would object less if he knew that the Freelys were a much higher family than his own. It had been foolish modesty117 in him hitherto to conceal the fact that a branch of the Freelys held a manor118 in Yorkshire, and to shut up the portrait of his great uncle the admiral, instead of hanging it up where a family portrait should be hung—over the mantelpiece in the parlour. Admiral Freely, K.C.B., once placed in this conspicuous119 position, was seen to have had one arm only, and one eye—in these points resembling the heroic Nelson—while a certain pallid120 insignificance121 of feature confirmed the relationship between himself and his grand-nephew.
Next, Mr. Freely was seized with an irrepressible ambition to posses Mrs. Palfrey’s receipt for brawn122, hers being pronounced on all hands to be superior to his own—as he informed her in a very flattering letter carried by his errand-boy. Now Mrs. Palfrey, like other geniuses, wrought123 by instinct rather than by rule, and possessed124 no receipts—indeed, despised all people who used them, observing that people who pickled by book, must pickle125 by weights and measures, and such nonsense; as for herself, her weights and measures were the tip of her finger and the tip of her tongue, and if you went nearer, why, of course, for dry goods like flour and spice, you went by handfuls and pinches, and for wet, there was a middle-sized jug—quite the best thing whether for much or little, because you might know how much a teacupful was if you’d got any use of your senses, and you might be sure it would take five middle-sized jugs126 to make a gallon. Knowledge of this kind is like Titian’s colouring, difficult to communicate; and as Mrs. Palfrey, once remarkably127 handsome, had now become rather stout128 and asthmatical, and scarcely ever left home, her oral teaching could hardly be given anywhere except at Long Meadows. Even a matron is not insusceptible to flattery, and the prospect of a visitor whose great object would be to listen to her conversation, was not without its charms to Mrs. Palfrey. Since there was no receipt to be sent in reply to Mr. Freely’s humble129 request, she called on her more docile130 daughter, Penny, to write a note, telling him that her mother would be glad to see him and talk with him on brawn, any day that he could call at Long Meadows. Penny obeyed with a trembling hand, thinking how wonderfully things came about in this world.
In this way, Mr. Freely got himself introduced into the home of the Palfreys, and notwithstanding a tendency in the male part of the family to jeer131 at him a little as “peaky” and bow-legged, he presently established his position as an accepted and frequent guest. Young Towers looked at him with increasing disgust when they met at the house on a Sunday, and secretly longed to try his ferret upon him, as a piece of vermin which that valuable animal would be likely to tackle with unhesitating vigour132. But—so blind sometimes are parents—neither Mr. nor Mrs. Palfrey suspected that Penny would have anything to say to a tradesman of questionable133 rank whose youthful bloom was much withered134. Young Towers, they thought, had an eye to her, and that was likely enough to be a match some day; but Penny was a child at present. And all the while Penny was imagining the circumstances under which Mr. Freely would make her an offer: perhaps down by the row of damson-trees, when they were in the garden before tea; perhaps by letter—in which case, how would the letter begin? “Dearest Penelope?” or “My dear Miss Penelope?” or straight off, without dear anything, as seemed the most natural when people were embarrassed? But, however he might make the offer, she would not accept it without her father’s consent: she would always be true to Mr. Freely, but she would not disobey her father. For Penny was a good girl, though some of her female friends were afterwards of opinion that it spoke135 ill for her not to have felt an instinctive136 repugnance to Mr. Freely.
But he was cautious, and wished to be quite sure of the ground he trod on. His views on marriage were not entirely sentimental137, but were as duly mingled138 with considerations of what would be advantageous139 to a man in his position, as if he had had a very large amount of money spent on his education. He was not a man to fall in love in the wrong place; and so, he applied140 himself quite as much to conciliate the favour of the parents, as to secure the attachment141 of Penny. Mrs. Palfrey had not been inaccessible142 to flattery, and her husband, being also of mortal mould, would not, it might be hoped, be proof against rum—that very fine Jamaica rum—of which Mr. Freely expected always to have a supply sent him from Jamaica. It was not easy to get Mr. Palfrey into the parlour behind the shop, where a mild back-street light fell on the features of the heroic admiral; but by getting hold of him rather late one evening as he was about to return home from Grimworth, the aspiring143 lover succeeded in persuading him to sup on some collared beef which, after Mrs. Palfrey’s brawn, he would find the very best of cold eating.
From that hour Mr. Freely felt sure of success: being in privacy with an estimable man old enough to be his father, and being rather lonely in the world, it was natural he should unbosom himself a little on subjects which he could not speak of in a mixed circle—especially concerning his expectations from his uncle in Jamaica, who had no children, and loved his nephew Edward better than any one else in the world, though he had been so hurt at his leaving Jamaica, that he had threatened to cut him off with a shilling. However, he had since written to state his full forgiveness, and though he was an eccentric old gentleman and could not bear to give away money during his life, Mr. Edward Freely could show Mr. Palfrey the letter which declared, plainly enough, who would be the affectionate uncle’s heir. Mr. Palfrey actually saw the letter, and could not help admiring the spirit of the nephew who declared that such brilliant hopes as these made no difference to his conduct; he should work at his humble business and make his modest fortune at it all the same. If the Jamaica estate was to come to him—well and good. It was nothing very surprising for one of the Freely family to have an estate left him, considering the lands that family had possessed in time gone by—nay, still possessed in the Northumberland branch. Would not Mr. Palfrey take another glass of rum? and also look at the last year’s balance of the accounts? Mr. Freely was a man who cared to possess personal virtues, and did not pique144 himself on his family, though some men would.
We know how easily the great Leviathan may be led, when once there is a hook in his nose or a bridle145 in his jaws146. Mr. Palfrey was a large man, but, like Leviathan’s, his bulk went against him when once he had taken a turning. He was not a mercurial147 man, who easily changed his point of view. Enough. Before two months were over, he had given his consent to Mr. Freely’s marriage with his daughter Penny, and having hit on a formula by which he could justify it, fenced off all doubts and objections, his own included. The formula was this: “I’m not a man to put my head up an entry before I know where it leads.”
Little Penny was very proud and fluttering, but hardly so happy as she expected to be in an engagement. She wondered if young Towers cared much about it, for he had not been to the house lately, and her sister and brothers were rather inclined to sneer148 than to sympathize. Grimworth rang with the news. All men extolled149 Mr. Freely’s good fortune; while the women, with the tender solicitude150 characteristic of the sex, wished the marriage might turn out well.
While affairs were at this triumphant151 juncture152, Mr. Freely one morning observed that a stone-carver who had been breakfasting in the eating-room had left a newspaper behind. It was the X-shire Gazette, and X-shire being a county not unknown to Mr. Freely, he felt some curiosity to glance over it, and especially over the advertisements. A slight flush came over his face as he read. It was produced by the following announcement:—“If David Faux, son of Jonathan Faux, late of Gilsbrook, will apply at the office of Mr. Strutt, attorney, of Rodham, he will hear of something to his advantage.”
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1
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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cravat
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| n.领巾，领结；v.使穿有领结的服装，使结领结 | |
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3
dissenters
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| n.持异议者，持不同意见者( dissenter的名词复数 ) | |
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joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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5
veal
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| n.小牛肉 | |
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stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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7
commissioners
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| n.专员( commissioner的名词复数 )；长官；委员；政府部门的长官 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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restrictions
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| 约束( restriction的名词复数 )； 管制； 制约因素； 带限制性的条件（或规则） | |
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10
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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11
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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12
solicit
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| vi.勾引；乞求；vt.请求，乞求；招揽(生意) | |
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13
surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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14
vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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15
uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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16
sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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17
linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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18
canvassing
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| v.（在政治方面）游说( canvass的现在分词 )；调查（如选举前选民的）意见；为讨论而提出（意见等）；详细检查 | |
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19
broker
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| n.中间人，经纪人；v.作为中间人来安排 | |
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20
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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21
pastry
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| n.油酥面团，酥皮糕点 | |
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landlady
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| n.女房东，女地主 | |
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23
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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24
shutters
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| 百叶窗( shutter的名词复数 )； （照相机的）快门 | |
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25
variegated
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| adj.斑驳的，杂色的 | |
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26
tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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27
glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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28
hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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bilious
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| adj.胆汁过多的；易怒的 | |
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30
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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31
outermost
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| adj.最外面的，远离中心的 | |
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32
folly
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| n.愚笨，愚蠢，蠢事，蠢行，傻话 | |
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outlay
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| n.费用，经费，支出；v.花费 | |
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34
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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35
improvident
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| adj.不顾将来的，不节俭的，无远见的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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37
tart
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| adj.酸的；尖酸的，刻薄的；n.果馅饼；淫妇 | |
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38
favourable
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| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
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auspices
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| n.资助，赞助 | |
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40
missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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41
justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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42
narrate
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| v.讲，叙述 | |
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43
corruption
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| n.腐败，堕落，贪污 | |
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44
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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45
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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46
withering
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| 使人畏缩的，使人害羞的，使人难堪的 | |
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47
irritability
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| n.易怒 | |
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48
brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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49
devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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50
batch
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| n.一批(组，群)；一批生产量 | |
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51
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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52
sophistry
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| n.诡辩 | |
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53
garbled
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| adj.（指信息）混乱的，引起误解的v.对（事实）歪曲，对（文章等）断章取义，窜改( garble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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54
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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55
yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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56
mole
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| n.胎块；痣；克分子 | |
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57
clique
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| n.朋党派系，小集团 | |
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58
disingenuousness
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59
bosoms
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| 胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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60
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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61
impromptu
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| adj.即席的，即兴的；adv.即兴的(地)，无准备的(地) | |
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62
formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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63
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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64
perversion
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| n.曲解；堕落；反常 | |
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65
viands
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| n.食品，食物 | |
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66
hinds
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| n.（常指动物腿）后面的( hind的名词复数 )；在后的；（通常与can或could连用）唠叨不停；滔滔不绝 | |
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67
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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68
impoverishment
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| n.贫穷，穷困；贫化 | |
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69
crunched
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的过去式和过去分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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70
delicacies
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| n.棘手( delicacy的名词复数 )；精致；精美的食物；周到 | |
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71
inorganic
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| adj.无生物的；无机的 | |
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72
habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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73
repugnance
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| n.嫌恶 | |
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74
justifying
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| 证明…有理( justify的现在分词 )； 为…辩护； 对…作出解释； 为…辩解（或辩护） | |
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75
secondly
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| adv.第二，其次 | |
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76
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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77
ascertained
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| v.弄清，确定，查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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78
condescended
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| 屈尊，俯就( condescend的过去式和过去分词 )； 故意表示和蔼可亲 | |
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79
bakers
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| n.面包师( baker的名词复数 )；面包店；面包店店主；十三 | |
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80
pretensions
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| 自称( pretension的名词复数 )； 自命不凡； 要求； 权力 | |
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81
insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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82
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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83
plunging
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| adj.跳进的，突进的v.颠簸( plunge的现在分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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84
devour
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| v.吞没；贪婪地注视或谛听，贪读；使着迷 | |
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85
conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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86
oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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87
uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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88
unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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89
benevolence
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| n.慈悲，捐助 | |
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90
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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91
belles
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| n.美女( belle的名词复数 )；最美的美女 | |
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92
stimulate
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| vt.刺激，使兴奋；激励，使…振奋 | |
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93
virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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94
kindle
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| v.点燃，着火 | |
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95
connoisseur
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| n.鉴赏家，行家，内行 | |
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96
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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97
waxwork
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| n.蜡像 | |
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98
elasticity
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| n.弹性，伸缩力 | |
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99
nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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100
guile
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| n.诈术 | |
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101
smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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102
converse
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| vi.谈话，谈天，闲聊；adv.相反的，相反 | |
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103
gazetteers
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| n.地名索引，地名词典( gazetteer的名词复数 ) | |
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104
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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105
merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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106
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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107
immortals
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| 不朽的人物( immortal的名词复数 )； 永生不朽者 | |
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108
anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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109
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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110
diversified
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| adj.多样化的，多种经营的v.使多样化，多样化( diversify的过去式和过去分词 )；进入新的商业领域 | |
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111
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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112
cocoon
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| n.茧 | |
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113
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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114
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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acumen
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| n.敏锐，聪明 | |
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117
modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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manor
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| n.庄园，领地 | |
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119
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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120
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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121
insignificance
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| n.不重要；无价值；无意义 | |
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122
brawn
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| n.体力 | |
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123
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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124
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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125
pickle
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| n.腌汁，泡菜；v.腌，泡 | |
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126
jugs
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| （有柄及小口的）水壶( jug的名词复数 ) | |
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127
remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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129
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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131
jeer
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| vi.嘲弄，揶揄；vt.奚落；n.嘲笑，讥评 | |
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132
vigour
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| （=vigor）n.智力，体力，精力 | |
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questionable
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| adj.可疑的，有问题的 | |
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134
withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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135
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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136
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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advantageous
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| adj.有利的；有帮助的 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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141
attachment
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| n.附属物，附件；依恋；依附 | |
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inaccessible
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| adj.达不到的，难接近的 | |
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aspiring
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| adj.有志气的；有抱负的；高耸的v.渴望；追求 | |
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pique
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| v.伤害…的自尊心，使生气 n.不满，生气 | |
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bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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mercurial
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| adj.善变的，活泼的 | |
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148
sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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149
extolled
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| v.赞颂，赞扬，赞美( extol的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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150
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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151
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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legacy
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| n.遗产，遗赠；先人(或过去)留下的东西 | |
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