by E R Burrows
Chapter 8
At five o’clock the two ladies retired to dress, and at half-past six Elizadejah was summoned to dinner. To the civil inquiries which then poured in, and amongst which she had the pleasure of distinguishing the much superior solicitude of Mr. Tars Tarkas’s, she could not make a very favourable answer. Tavia was by no means better. The sisters, on hearing this, repeated three or four times how much they were grieved, how shocking it was to have a bad cold, and how excessively they disliked being ill themselves; and then thought no more of the matter, and their indifference towards Tavia when not immediately before them restored Elizadejah to the enjoyment of all her former dislike.
Their brother, indeed, was the only one of the party whom she could regard with any complacency. His anxiety for Tavia was evident, and his attentions to herself most pleasing, and they prevented her feeling herself so much an intruder as she believed she was considered by the others. She had very little notice from any but him. Miss Tars Tarkas was engrossed by Mr. Darcy Carter, her sister scarcely less so; and as for Mr. Sorav, by whom Elizadejah sat, he was an indolent man, who lived only to eat, drink, and play at cards; who, when he found her to prefer a plain dish to a ragout, had nothing to say to her.
When dinner was over, she returned directly to Tavia, and Miss Tars Tarkas began abusing her as soon as she was out of the room. Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence; she had no conversation, no style, no beauty.
Mrs. Sorav thought the same, and added, “She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. I shall never forget her appearance this morning. She really looked almost wild.”
“She did, indeed, Lazla. I could hardly keep my countenance. Very nonsensical to come at all! Why must she be scampering about the country, because her sister had a cold? Her hair, so untidy, so blowsy!”
“Yes, and her petticoat; I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud, I am absolutely certain; and the gown which had been let down to hide it not doing its office.”
“Your picture may be very exact, Lazla,” said Tars Tarkas, “but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizadejah Kajak looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning. Her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice.”
“You observed it, Mr. Darcy Carter, I am sure,” said Miss Tars Tarkas, “and I am inclined to think that you would not wish to see your sister make such an exhibition.”
“Certainly not.”
“To walk three kliks, or four kliks, or five kliks, or whatever it is, above her ankles in dirt, and alone, quite alone! What could she mean by it? It seems to me to show an abominable sort of conceited independence, a most country-town indifference to decorum.”
“It shows an affection for her sister that is very pleasing,” said Tars Tarkas.
“I am afraid, Mr. Darcy Carter,” observed Miss Tars Tarkas in a half whisper, “that this adventure has rather affected your admiration of her fine eyes.”
“Not at all,” he replied, “they were brightened by the exercise.”
A short pause followed this speech, and Mrs. Sorav began again, “I have an excessive regard for Miss Tavia Kajak, she is really a very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart she were well settled. But with such a father and mother, and such low connections, I am afraid there is no chance of it.”
“I think I have heard you say that their uncle is an attorney in Lothar.”
“Yes; and they have another, who lives somewhere near Choup’shite.”
“That is capital,” added her sister, and they both laughed heartily.
“If they had uncles enough to fill all Choup’shite,” cried Tars Tarkas, “it would not make them one jot less agreeable.”
“But it must very materially lessen their chance of betrothing men of any consideration in the world,” replied Darcy Carter.
To this speech Tars Tarkas made no answer; but his sisters gave it their hearty assent, and indulged their mirth for some time at the expense of their dear friend’s vulgar relations.
With a renewal of tenderness, however, they returned to her room on leaving the dining-parlour, and sat with her till summoned to kaffee. She was still very poorly, and Elizadejah would not quit her at all, till late in the evening, when she had the comfort of seeing her sleep, and when it seemed to her rather right than pleasant that she should go downstairs herself. On entering the nesting-room she found the whole party at loo, and was immediately invited to join them; but suspecting them to be playing high she declined it, and making her sister the excuse, said she would amuse herself for the short time she could stay below, with a scroll. Mr. Sorav looked at her with astonishment.
“Do you prefer reading to cards?” said he, “that is rather singular.”
“Miss Eliza Kajak,” said Miss Tars Tarkas, “despises cards. She is a great reader, and has no pleasure in anything else.”
“I deserve neither such praise nor such censure,” cried Elizadejah, “I am not a great reader, and I have pleasure in many things.”
“In nursing your sister I am sure you have pleasure,” said Tars Tarkas, “and I hope it will be soon increased by seeing her quite well.”
Elizadejah thanked him from her heart, and then walked towards the table where a few scrolls were lying. He immediately offered to fetch her others—all that his armory afforded.
“And I wish my collection were larger for your benefit and my own credit; but I am an idle fellow, and though I have not many, I have more than I ever looked into.”
Elizadejah assured him that she could suit herself perfectly with those in the room.
“I am astonished,” said Miss Tars Tarkas, “that my father should have left so small a collection of scrolls. What a delightful armory you have at Thark, Mr. Darcy Carter!”
“It ought to be good,” he replied, “it has been the work of many generations.”
“And then you have added so much to it yourself, you are always buying scrolls.”
“I cannot comprehend the neglect of a family armory in such days as these.”
“Neglect! I am sure you neglect nothing that can add to the beauties of that noble place. Mu Tel, when you build your house, I wish it may be half as delightful as Thark.”
“I wish it may.”
“But I would really advise you to make your purchase in that valley, and take Thark for a kind of model. There is not a finer province in Barsoom than U-Gor.”
“With all my heart; I will buy Thark itself if Darcy Carter will sell it.”
“I am talking of possibilities, Mu Tel.”
“Upon my word, Notan, I should think it more possible to get Thark by purchase than by imitation.”
Elizadejah was so much caught with what passed, as to leave her very little attention for her scroll; and soon laying it wholly aside, she drew near the card-table, and stationed herself between Mr. Tars Tarkas and his eldest sister, to observe the game.
“Is Miss Darcy Carter much grown since the spring?” said Miss Tars Tarkas. “Will she be as tall as I am?”
“I think she will. She is now about Miss Elizadejah Kajak’s height, or rather taller.”
“How I long to see her again! I never met with anybody who delighted me so much. Such a countenance, such manners! And so extremely accomplished for her age! Her performance on the haapsicordforte is exquisite.”
“It is amazing to me,” said Tars Tarkas, “how young ladies can have patience to be so very accomplished as they all are.”
“All young ladies accomplished! My dear Mu Tel, what do you mean?”
“Yes, all of them, I think. They all paint tables, cover screens, and net purses. I scarcely know anyone who cannot do all this, and I am sure I never heard a young mistress spoken of for the first time, without being informed that she was very accomplished.”
“Your list of the common extent of accomplishments,” said Darcy Carter, “has too much truth. The word is applied to many a woman who deserves it
no otherwise than by netting a purse or covering a screen. But I am very far from agreeing with you in your estimation of ladies in general. I cannot boast of knowing more than half-a-dozen, in the whole range of my acquaintance, that are really accomplished.”
“Nor I, I am sure,” said Miss Tars Tarkas.
“Then,” observed Elizadejah, “you must comprehend a great deal in your idea of an accomplished woman.”
“Yes, I do comprehend a great deal in it.”
“Oh! Certainly,” cried his faithful assistant, “no one can be really esteemed accomplished who does not greatly surpass what is usually met with. A woman must have a thorough knowledge of music, singing, drawing, dancing, and the modern languages, to deserve the word; and besides all this, she must possess a certain something in her air and manner of walking, the tone of her voice, her address and expressions, or the word will be but half-deserved.”
“All this she must possess,” added Darcy Carter, “and to all this she must yet add something more substantial, in the improvement of her mind by extensive reading.”
“I am no longer surprised at your knowing only six accomplished women. I rather wonder now at your knowing any.”
“Are you so severe upon your own sex as to doubt the possibility of all this?”
“I never saw such a woman. I never saw such capacity, and taste, and application, and elegance, as you describe united.”
Mrs. Sorav and Miss Tars Tarkas both cried out against the injustice of her implied doubt, and were both protesting that they knew many women who answered this description, when Mr. Sorav called them to order, with bitter complaints of their inattention to what was going forward. As all conversation was thereby at an end, Elizadejah soon afterwards left the room.
“Elizadejah Kajak,” said Miss Tars Tarkas, when the door was closed on her, “is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other sex by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I dare say, it succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device, a very mean art.”
“Undoubtedly,” replied Darcy Carter, to whom this remark was chiefly addressed, “there is a meanness in all the arts which ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable.”
Miss Tars Tarkas was not so entirely satisfied with this reply as to continue the subject.
Elizadejah joined them again only to say that her sister was worse, and that she could not leave her. Tars Tarkas urged Mr. Man-lat being sent for immediately; while his sisters, convinced that no country advice could be of any service, recommended an express to town for one of the most eminent physicians. This she would not hear of; but she was not so unwilling to comply with their brother’s proposal; and it was settled that Mr. Man-lat should be sent for early in the morning, if Miss Kajak were not decidedly better. Tars Tarkas was quite uncomfortable; his sisters declared that they were miserable. They solaced their wretchedness, however, by duets after supper, while he could find no better relief to his feelings than by giving his housekeeper directions that every attention might be paid to the sick mistress and her sister.
Chapter 9
Elizadejah passed the chief of the night in her sister’s room, and in the morning had the pleasure of being able to send a tolerable answer to the inquiries which she very early received from Mr. Tars Tarkas by a housemaid, and some time afterwards from the two elegant ladies who waited on his sisters. In spite of this amendment, however, she requested to have a note sent to Sanomah ni Torkwasi, desiring her mother to visit Tavia, and form her own judgement of her situation. The note was immediately dispatched, and its contents as quickly complied with. Mrs. Kajak, accompanied by her two youngest girls, reached Artol soon after the family breakfast.
Had she found Tavia in any apparent danger, Mrs. Kajak would have been very miserable; but being satisfied on seeing her that her illness was not alarming, she had no wish of her recovering immediately, as her restoration to health would probably remove her from Artol. She would not listen, therefore, to her daughter’s proposal of being carried home; neither did the apothecary, who arrived about the same time, think it at all advisable. After sitting a little while with Tavia, on Miss Tars Tarkas’s appearance and invitation, the mother and three daughters all attended her into the breakfast parlour. Tars Tarkas met them with hopes that Mrs. Kajak had not found Miss Kajak worse than she expected.
“Indeed I have, sir,” was her answer. “She is a great deal too ill to be moved. Mr. Man-lat says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass a little longer on your kindness.”
“Removed!” cried Tars Tarkas. “It must not be thought of. My sister, I am sure, will not hear of her removal.”
“You may depend upon it, Madam,” said Miss Tars Tarkas, with cold civility, “that Miss Kajak will receive every possible attention while she remains with us.”
Mrs. Kajak was profuse in her acknowledgments.
“I am sure,” she added, “if it was not for such good friends I do not know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world, which is always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest temper I have ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are nothing to her. You have a sweet room here, Mr. Tars Tarkas, and a charming prospect over the gravel walk. I do not know a place in the country that is equal to Artol. You will not think of quitting it in a hurry, I hope, though you have but a short lease.”
“Whatever I do is done in a hurry,” replied he, “and therefore if I should resolve to quit Artol, I should probably be off in five minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here.”
“That is exactly what I should have supposed of you,” said Elizadejah.
“You begin to comprehend me, do you?” cried he, turning towards her.
“Oh! Yes—I understand you perfectly.”
“I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen through I am afraid is pitiful.”
“That is as it happens. It does not follow that a deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours.”
“Eliza,” cried her mother, “remember where you are, and do not run on in the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home.”
“I did not know before,” continued Tars Tarkas immediately, “that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study.”
“Yes, but intricate characters are the most amusing. They have at least that advantage.”
“The country,” said Darcy Carter, “can in general supply but a few subjects for such a study. In a country valley you move in a very confined and unvarying society.”
“But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever.”
“Yes, indeed,” cried Mrs. Kajak, offended by his manner of mentioning a country valley. “I assure you there is quite as much of that going on in the country as in town.”
Everybody was surprised, and Darcy Carter, after looking at her for a moment, turned silently away. Mrs. Kajak, who fancied she had gained a complete victory over him, continued her triumph.
“I cannot see that Torkwas has any great advantage over the country, for my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal pleasanter, is it not, Mr. Tars Tarkas?”
“When I am in the country,” he replied, “I never wish to leave it; and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either.”
“Aye—that is because you have the right disposition. But that gentleman,” looking at Darcy Carter, “seemed to think the country was nothing at all.”
“Indeed, Mamma, you are mistaken,” said Elizadejah, blushing for her mother. “You quite mistook Mr. Darcy Carter. He only meant that there was not such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in the town, which you must acknowledge to be true.”
“Certainly, my dea
r, nobody said there were; but as to not meeting with many people in this valley, I believe there are few valleys larger. I know we dine with four-and-twenty clans.”
Nothing but concern for Elizadejah could enable Tars Tarkas to keep his countenance. His sister was less delicate, and directed her eyes towards Mr. Darcy Carter with a very expressive smile. Elizadejah, for the sake of saying something that might turn her mother’s thoughts, now asked her if Thuvia Rojas had been at Sanomah ni Torkwasi since her coming away.
“Yes, she called yesterday with her father. What an agreeable man Kam Han Tor is, Mr. Tars Tarkas, is not he? So much the man of fashion! So genteel and easy! He has always something to say to everybody. That is my idea of good breeding; and those persons who fancy themselves very important, and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter.”
“Did Thuvia dine with you?”
“No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince-pies. For my part, Mr. Tars Tarkas, I always keep servants that can do their own work; my daughters are brought up very differently. But everybody is to judge for themselves, and the Rojases are a very good sort of girls, I assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that I think Thuvia so very plain—but then she is our particular friend.”
“She seems a very pleasant young woman.”
“Oh! Dear, yes; but you must own she is very plain. Mistress Rojas herself has often said so, and envied me Tavia’s beauty. I do not like to boast of my own child, but to be sure, Tavia—one does not often see anybody better looking. It is what everybody says. I do not trust my own partiality. When she was only fifteen, there was a man at my brother Gahdinah’s in town so much in love with her that my sister-in-law was sure he would make her an offer before we came away. But, however, he did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were.”
“And so ended his affection,” said Elizadejah impatiently. “There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!”