"No; certainly not. We residents must take our chance here, but if you can get away as you have been intending, you ought to do so, without delay."
So it was decided; and the following evening Mr. Elton, his face well wrapped up against the encroaching plague, reported to his anxious family.
"It is as bad as possible down there," he said, "a dozen more cases; but I have booked passage on the Hesperia, to go the twentieth of June. Pray God we will escape. The people are panicked and ships are not being permitted to land - we will have to journey around to Grosse Isle for our boarding."
It was not a gay leave-taking. In fear and solemnity did the Eltons pack their boxes, and convey them down to the ship, anxiously trying to have the least contact possible with any of the people in the streets. The parting with their French Canadian friends was sad and sore, but all parties were so well aware of its necessity that lamentations were almost perfunctory. And at last, the Eltons were aboard ship, enjoying a crossing which, in the event, proved blessedly serene, and not marked with illness or any other danger.
Four weeks from that time, they were at Liverpool, almost bewildered by hearing English voices once again, and seeing English buildings and people all around them. A rapid progress by coach, and before the beautiful and golden month of July had closed, they were once again at home, in Highbury.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It passes belief," said Mrs. Knightley to Mrs. Weston, "to conceive that Mrs. Elton will soon be here once more."
They were seated with their husbands at a little table set out in the garden at Donwell, enjoying the fragrance of the roses, now at their height, and admiring the delicate fritillaries and lavender.
"It does, indeed. How we shall enjoy hearing about the Eltons' American adventures. Highbury will never have heard anything like them before, and every conversation is sure to be about the Eltons, for many a day."
In spite of the lovely afternoon and the beauties of her garden, Emma could not look pleased, she so disliked the prospect of seeing Mrs. Elton again. "I hope not," she said sourly, "I do not want to talk about anything to do with Mrs. Elton on a constant or even a semi-constant basis."
"My dear Emma - only think. She may have improved. After such ordeals as she has gone through, one can hardly suspect that she would not have changed greatly."
"The ordeals have been terrible indeed," put in Mr. Knightley, soberly, "to judge by the letter friend Elton has sent me. Their encounters with the Indians alone - I cannot make known all that he said, it is too frightful, but it should be enough to make us very thankful that their lives were spared."
"Do you really mean that Mrs. Elton and her children lived among the Indians for years?" Emma put in incredulously.
"That is what the letter says."
"Good God! How, then, can you talk of Mrs. Elton improving, Mrs. Weston? Her manners were unpleasing before, but now that she has lived among savages she must be infinitely worse."
"That remains to be seen, Emma, but I think the Eltons will have the best right of telling us of their experiences themselves, and we must not judge them prematurely."
"Oh! certainly not," she said, disagreeably.
A round, bustling figure could be seen approaching from the direction of the Martins' farm, and Mrs. Martin appeared, carrying a basket, her face red and hot from her walk.
"Why, Harriet! You have had a warm walk," said Emma kindly. "Will not you sit down and take some of this cool ginger drink? And some lemon biscuits."
"Oh - yes - thank you, Mrs. Knightley; and I have brought you some new peas from our garden, they are specially good. Robert said so himself. Have you heard the news?"
Emma sighed. "I daresay it is about the Eltons, as everything now seems to be. We have heard they are to be in Highbury any day now."
"Mr. Cole had a letter. Did not Mr. Knightley? Oh I thought he should. Well," continued Harriet, "Mr. Cole's letter said - I am not sure, exactly - but I believe it told about how Mr. Elton was scalped by the Indians! Only think how horrible! And so we are to be warned that his appearance is very much altered, and not be too much shocked."
"Scalped!" every one exclaimed at once. Mr. Knightley shook his head and said, low, to Mrs. Weston, "That was the news I wished to conceal."
"What else did Mr. Cole say?" asked Emma, unable to help her curiosity.
"Oh! Ever so much more. La! I cannot recollect it all. That Mrs. Elton lived with the Indians, and wore buckskin and moccasins like a savage; and washed with ashes and ate bear and snake and all sorts of horrid things. And Philip Augustus was made an honorary Indian. I wonder if he scalped anyone himself? I remember that he really was a very untamed little boy. Oh, and Mrs. Elton ran a shop - not when she was with the Indians, I don't think - but it is true she really was a shopkeeper and helped behind the counter herself. Yes, and they ran away from a dreadful cholera epidemic, and they saw slaves in the Southern states, real slaves, only imagine how horrid."
"If even one quarter of that remarkable narrative is true," said Emma dryly, "you are perfectly right, Mrs. Weston, Highbury will never stop talking about it.
"Do you think Highbury will receive Mrs. Elton in society?" Harriet asked eagerly. "I mean - a woman who has waited in a shop - it is not very nice, after all."
"There can be no question of that," said Mr. Knightley firmly. "The churchwardens have agreed, without a demur, that Mr. Elton is to have his living back; that has all been decided. Mrs. Elton will be our vicar's wife, as before, and of course they shall be accepted by us all, the more because of the sad trials they have endured."
"We must feel sympathy for Mrs. Elton, Emma," said Mrs. Weston gently, "she lost a child to the Indians, did not she."
Emma remained unpersuaded. She could have wished that the Eltons had stayed in America forever, and she dreaded the changes that would surely come to Highbury from their re-introduction.
Yet Mrs. Weston's prediction seemed the most likely to come true. The Eltons returned, and were comfortably settled once more at the vicarage, as nearly as possible as if they had never been away. Their kind neighbours allowed only a short time to elapse, for the purpose of rest and refreshment, before dinner invitations from Donwell, Hartfield, Randalls and all of Highbury began to shower down upon them.
Mrs. Elton might almost boast again, as she did upon her original arrival in Highbury, of never having a disengaged day; and at the first dinner at Donwell, she did indeed appear a changed being, not only in her looks, but because there was so much for her to hear of changes in Highbury, that she submitted to listen quietly, and to refrain from any shocking recitals of her American adventures. Indeed, Mrs. Weston's description of Mr. Frank Churchill's marriage to a Yorkshire heiress, which made him richer than ever, took up some little time, encompassing as it did the couple's plans to live in London, and the social prospects of Miss Jane Churchill, which would be ample. While this was going on, Mr. Elton made free in his discourse on American conditions to the other gentlemen; but to Emma, the sight of Mrs. Elton, listening calmly and saying little, was perhaps the greatest novelty of all.
Emma had concealed her first shock at the Eltons' appearance, but she knew she was not the only one to feel it. They had been away some seven years, it was true, but decades seemed to have passed over Mr. Elton's bald and scarred pate. Weathered and aged as he looked, however, his expression was peaceful, one of content at being again home; and the sermon he preached on the first Sunday after his return, was a simple and heartfelt one of thanksgiving.
Mrs. Elton looked less old and ill than her husband, but she too was an altered creature. Thin, sun-browned and coarsened, one might expect her to be; but as well, the simple cotton gown she had hastily purchased ready-made at Liverpool, with more thought to utility than fashion, formed a striking contrast with her elegant lace gowns of the past. Her hands were roughened, bespeaking the work she had done herself, and her movements were rough too, not as concealed and graceful as the other women's; she seated hersel
f, and walked, and gestured, like someone who had come from a free and easy land where no thought was ever given to such matters as deportment. Her eyes had a keenness and activity that had been altogether lacking in the old days; but one thing was unchanged, and that was her assurance.
Mrs. Elton had ever been sure of herself, to the point of being insufferable in Emma's eyes; but even Emma had to admit that the woman's new confidence was of a different order, or so she thought it would prove. She had an air of being capable of anything, up to anything, as Emma supposed she must be, in sober truth, after such experiences; even when she was only seated quietly, her eyes resting proudly on her children, she had a masterful look, which Emma did not like at all.
Emma followed Mrs. Elton's gaze, toward her children, and her thoughts turned to wondering what these Americanised young people would mean to Highbury. For Philip Augustus was a handsome, active young man, who drew the eyes of all the young girls, sheltered as they were, never having seen his like before. Mrs. Weston's Anna and Emily, Isabella's youngest daughters Susan and Rose, all displayed identical expressions of rapt enchantment.
"Will Philip Augustus be going to university?" was an early question of Mr. Knightley's, and the answer appeared to be that he would go to a tutor for a year, and then to Oxford. Emma's eyes turned to fifteen-year-old Selena, a pretty girl with forward American manners in which no vestige of shyness showed itself; she was indeed Mrs. Elton's daughter, Emma thought to herself wryly, watching the girl. Selina almost bounced with expectation when Mr. Weston spoke of getting up a dance.
"You will have to show us the American dances," Mrs. Weston told her kindly.
"Oh! but I hope someone will show me the English ones too," she brightly made answer, without hesitation. "I love to dance, and did so among the Indians and also in Tawa Town and Quebec; but there we mostly jumped about, and I am sure the English dances must be more refined. Will you teach me to dance, Mr. Knightley?" she addressed the Knightleys' oldest son, Henry, who stood by her side and gazed down at the rosy-cheeked, curly-haired girl admiringly, for all that he was a Cambridge man, six or seven years older than she.
"A gentleman does not teach a young lady to dance, in England," Emma interposed austerely, "but I daresay you will learn fast enough."
"Why, Emma, my girls can give her a bit of instruction," said Mrs. Weston good-naturedly.
"Certainly; let us go into the ball-room now, if you like it; should you, Miss Elton?" said tall, stately Anna, while her younger sister Emily nodded eagerly.
"I should like nothing better; but we need music, do we not?"
"I will play," said Anna, "and Emily can show you the figures. Come, then," and the girls ran away laughing.
Mr. Elton looked fondly at his wife. "Never mind but Selina will do well wherever she is," he assured her. Mrs. Elton only smiled. "No, I am not worried about Selina," she said.
"Oh; no, she will do very well indeed - once something is done about that accent," Mrs. Knightley assured her condescendingly.
Mrs. Elton was not to be drawn. "We are meaning to make her a parlour-boarder at Miss Goddard's school for a year or two; that will smooth down some of the American-ness," she said calmly. "Do not you think that will be a good plan?"
"Oh! but you have not heard," said Mrs. Martin, "that Miss Goddard is no more. No, she was took with a violent pain in her head three years ago this Michaelmas, and was gone in a fortnight, poor soul. Mr. Perry did all that he could but he thinks it was water upon the brain. Ah! We are growing sadly old and ill, and that is what we all must come to, in the end," she shook her head. "Mrs. Bates is dead you know - and Miss Bates is quite an invalid; she has had a paralytic stroke poor soul, and cannot talk."
"I am sorry indeed to hear that," said Mrs. Elton, concerned. "Poor good Miss Bates; I will visit her tomorrow, if I may. And Miss Goddard is a sad loss. However, the school carries on, I comprehend?"
"Oh, yes, the school is still there, to be sure; the under-teacher, Miss Bickerton, who used to be at school with me in the old days, has took it over, and runs it quite as well, and will be very glad to take Miss Elton, I make no doubt. She will be a very bright pupil, if only, well I am not quite sure; her manners - Miss Bickerton may make some difficulties about them, for that American speech is not quite refined, you know. But I have no fear but that it will not be corrected in time, so that she may be fit to come out one day and make her appearance in society."
"I do not know about coming out, it is rather early to think about such things. Our Selina is but fifteen, and has English life to learn all over again. There is no hurry."
"But a girl of fifteen, with everything to learn! My dear Mrs. Elton, what an infinity there is to accomplish before she is fit for London!" Harriet lifted her hands.
"I doubt that Mr. Elton will consider a season in London as appropriate for a clergyman's daughter," said Mrs. Elton, collectedly, "and we mean not to go to any extraordinary expenses, but to be prudent. We shall be very glad to keep the child at home for some time to come."
"And she will have no lack of beaux in Highbury, certainly," admitted Emma, rather reluctantly, "for if nothing else she is a very pretty girl, and I can already see that my boys admire... Why! Where are Henry and John?"
"I believe they followed the girls into the ball-room," said Mrs. Weston.
"Heavens! Mr. Knightley, you had better go after them. No ball was intended tonight, and there are no chaperones. Very improper behaviour; I am sure I cannot answer for the consequences."
Mr. Knightley, followed by his wife, strode to the ballroom, and there beheld all the young men of the party in a circle around Selina, who was performing a wild dance of a style never seen in Highbury before, whirling hand in hand with young Henry Knightley, who tried awkwardly to follow while he gazed on her with an air of most unmistakable admiration.
"There - that is how the Comanches celebrate a feast," she laughed, collapsing into a seated position on the floor, her skirts around her, indifferent to the display of her pretty ankles. "Though to be sure we never got such good victuals among them as we have had here tonight. Now, Johnny Knightley, you may whirl me next - is it not great fun!"
"Well, I should say," exclaimed the youth, before his father stepped forward and put an end to the revels.
The Knightleys returned to the drawing-room, Mr. Knightley looking amused, his lady extremely annoyed. "We found Miss Elton teaching the boys Indian dances," was all Emma attempted to say, and Mrs. Elton gestured her wayward daughter to her side, with a little shake of her head.
Only Philip Augustus laughed. "My sister has so much spirit; she loves to laugh and dance, and I do believe it was this quality, her natural buoyancy, that carried her through all our hardships."
"I am sure it was," said Mrs. Weston gently, "but we must teach her that Indian ways do not always serve in England. You will remember this another time, I am sure, Miss Elton, won't you?"
"I'll try, Mrs. Weston," returned Selina, her eyes sparkling.
"Your hardships - your travails - " Emma addressed Mrs. Elton, hoping to give the conversation a less frivolous tone. "They have been something dreadful, we are given to understand."
"Oh, there were some bad times, I do not deny it," said Mrs. Elton easily, "when we were first captured, that was the worst. But there was much to enjoy. You cannot conceive what a wonderful country America is - America and the Canadas. Such beauty, such freedom, such glorious wilderness!"
"I prefer the calm beauty of Sussex," said Emma coldly.
"Ah, that is because you have never seen how the frosts paint the American woods with brilliant colours," cried Mrs. Elton. "And the people, and their manners - why, only think of a country where all are equal, and there is no cringing subservience of the lower orders, no dictatorial arrogance of the higher. Everyone is considered the same, and servants dine at table with their masters."
"Do they, really?" asked Mrs. Knightley, looking at the speaker with pity.
Philip Augustus l
aughed. "Why, Mama, you are not being quite sincere. You know it took you some time yourself to get used to that custom!"
"That is true; but now that I have learned the true meaning of democracy, it is difficult to go back to the old-fashioned ways. And you know you agree with me my dear; you, who are always talking of returning to the Comanche."
"So I shall, one day, when I am an attorney, and in a position to do some good," her son said quietly.
"Are you to be an attorney?" Mr. John Knightley spoke up for the first time that day, his eyes lighting up with interest.
"Yes, sir. It is my intention to learn all I can about treaty law."
"A very interesting study. You shall be welcome to read law with me, my boy. None of my sons have chosen it for their profession, which I regret, but I should like to have an interest in the education of a young man such as yourself."
"I only hope you will not take one of our girls back into the wilderness with you," murmured his wife. "It is so very dangerous. It is what I should never like for Bella. What would my dear father have said!"
"Since he objected to every little thing that smacked of venturesomeness, my dear Isabella, even to a window being left open, it is fairly certain that Mr. Woodhouse would have been appalled at the mere thought of any of his descendants going off to the wilderness," said Mr. John Knightley dryly, "but we may flatter ourselves that it may not happen."
Philip Augustus thanked Mr. John Knightley for his kindness, and made no mention of any wish to take a wife back to America with him, although both Anna and Emily did their best to show him with their eyes that they would not at all mind being chosen for a life among savages, if they might be accompanied by some one who had such snapping black eyes, and such a fine tall person, as young Mr. Elton. In truth, the young man had inherited his father's early handsomeness, along with something resembling his mother's enterprising spirit, cast in a new form.
Here we must leave Highbury; but be it known that Mrs. Elton resumed her old place in the town and, in time, found her own level, which was not essentially different from that of former years; and that even though she had become a wiser and more prudent woman from her American experiences, Mrs. Knightley never learned to like her. This proved to be an unfortunate circumstance, as within the course of a few years they were united by family ties, of bond and blood, for the lively, bright-eyed Selina, after leading all the young gentlemen a merry dance as belle of the neighbourhood, married Mrs. Knightley's eldest son George, and for ever afterward she appeared to the older Mrs. Knightley in the guise of that most odious of portents, the future mistress of Donwell.
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