Cranford

by Elizabeth Gaskell

  I was growing as red as fire; I did not know what to say, and yet I wanted to say something; but the idea of having a wife of my own at some future day, though it had often floated about in my own head, sounded so strange when it was thus first spoken about by my father. He saw my confusion, and half smiling said, –

  ‘Well, lad, what dost say to the old father’s plans? Thou art but young, to be sure; but when I was thy age, I would ha’ given my right hand if I might ha’ thought of the chance of wedding the lass I cared for –’

  ‘My mother?’ asked I, a little struck by the change of his tone of voice.

  ‘No! not thy mother. Thy mother is a very good woman – none better. No! the lass I cared for at nineteen ne’er knew how I loved her, and a year or two after and she was dead, and ne’er knew. I think she would ha’ been glad to ha’ known it, poor Molly; but I had to leave the place where we lived for to try to earn my bread – and I meant to come back – but before ever I did, she was dead and gone: I ha’ never gone there since. But if you fancy Phillis Holman, and can get her to fancy you, my lad, it shall go different with you, Paul, to what it did with your father.’

  I took counsel with myself very rapidly, and I came to a clear conclusion.

  ‘Father,’ said I, ‘if I fancied Phillis ever so much, she would never fancy me. I like her as much as I could like a sister; and she likes me as if I were her brother – her younger brother.’

  I could see my father’s countenance fall a little.

  ‘You see she’s so clever – she’s more like a man than a woman – she knows Latin and Greek.’

  ‘She’d forget ’em, if she’d a houseful of children,’ was my father’s comment on this.

  ‘But she knows many a thing besides, and is wise as well as learned; she has been so much with her father. She would never think much of me, and I should like my wife to think a deal of her husband.’

  ‘It is not just book-learning or the want of it as makes a wife think much or little of her husband,’ replied my father, evidently unwilling to give up a project which had taken deep root in his mind. ‘It’s a something – I don’t rightly know how to call it – if he’s manly, and sensible, and straightforward; and I reckon you’re that, my boy.’

  ‘I don’t think I should like to have a wife taller than I am, father,’ said I, smiling; he smiled too, but not heartily.

  ‘Well,’ said he, after a pause. ‘It’s but a few days I’ve been thinking of it, but I’d got as fond of my notion as if it had been a new engine as I’d been planning out. Here’s our Paul, thinks I to myself, a good sensible breed o’ lad, as has never vexed or troubled his mother or me; with a good business opening out before him, age nineteen, not so bad-looking, though perhaps not to call handsome, and here’s his cousin, not too near a cousin, but just nice, as one may say; aged seventeen, good and true, and well brought up to work with her hands as well as her head; a scholar – but that can’t be helped, and is more her misfortune than her fault, seeing she is the only child of a scholar – and as I said afore, once she’s a wife and a mother she’ll forget it all, I’ll be bound – with a good fortune in land and house when it shall please the Lord to take her parents to himself; with eyes like poor Molly’s for beauty, a colour that comes and goes on a milk-white skin, and as pretty a mouth –’

  ‘Why, Mr Manning, what fair lady are you describing?’ asked Mr Holdsworth, who had come quickly and suddenly upon our tête-à-tête, and had caught my father’s last words as he entered the room.

  Both my father and I felt rather abashed; it was such an odd subject for us to be talking about; but my father, like a straightforward simple man as he was, spoke out the truth.

  ‘I’ve been telling Paul of Ellison’s offer, and saying how good an opening it made for him –’

  ‘I wish I’d as good,’ said Mr Holdsworth. ‘But has the business a “pretty mouth?”’

  ‘You’re always so full of your joking, Mr Holdsworth,’ said my father. ‘I was going to say that if he and cousin Phillis Holman liked to make it up between them, I would put no spoke in the wheel.’

  ‘Phillis Holman!’ said Mr Holdsworth. ‘Is she the daughter of the minister-farmer out at Heathbridge? Have I been helping on the course of true love by letting you go there so often? I knew nothing of it.’

  ‘There is nothing to know,’ said I, more annoyed than I chose to show. ‘There is no more true love in the case than may be between the first brother and sister you may choose to meet. I have been telling father she would never think of me; she’s a great deal taller and cleverer; and I’d rather be taller and more learned than my wife when I have one.’

  ‘And it is she, then, that has the pretty mouth your father spoke about? I should think that would be an antidote to the cleverness and learning. But I ought to apologize for breaking in upon your last night; I came upon business to your father.’

  And then he and my father began to talk about many things that had no interest for me just then, and I began to go over again my conversation with my father. The more I thought about it, the more I felt that I had spoken truly about my feelings towards Phillis Holman. I loved her dearly as a sister, but I could never fancy her as my wife. Still less could I think of her ever – yes, condescending, that is the word – condescending to marry me. I was roused from a reverie on what I should like my possible wife to be, by hearing my father’s warm praise of the minister, as a most unusual character; how they had got back from the diameter of driving-wheels to the subject of the Holmans I could never tell; but I saw that my father’s weighty praises were exciting some curiosity in Mr Holdsworth’s mind; indeed, he said, almost in a voice of reproach, –

  ‘Why, Paul, you never told me what kind of a fellow this minister-cousin of yours was!’

  ‘I don’t know that I found out, sir,’ said I. ‘But if I had, I don’t think you’d have listened to me, as you have done to my father.’

  ‘No! most likely not, old fellow,’ replied Mr Holds-worth, laughing. And again and afresh I saw what a handsome pleasant clear face his was; and though this evening I had been a bit put out with him – through his sudden coming, and his having heard my father’s open-hearted confidence – my hero resumed all his empire over me by his bright merry laugh.

  And if he had not resumed his old place that night, he would have done so the next day, when, after my father’s departure, Mr Holdsworth spoke about him with such just respect for his character, such ungrudging admiration of his great mechanical genius, that I was compelled to say, almost unawares, –

  ‘Thank you, sir. I am very much obliged to you.’

  ‘Oh, you’re not at all. I am only speaking the truth. Here’s a Birmingham workman, self-educated, one may say – having never associated with stimulating minds, or had what advantages travel and contact with the world may be supposed to afford – working out his own thoughts into steel and iron, making a scientific name for himself – a fortune, if it pleases him to work for money – and keeping his singleness of heart, his perfect simplicity of manner; it puts me out of patience to think of my expensive schooling, my travels hither and thither, my heaps of scientific books, and I have done nothing to speak of. But it’s evidently good blood; there’s that Mr Holman, that cousin of yours, made of the same stuff.’

  ‘But he’s only cousin because he married my mother’s second cousin,’ said I.

  ‘That knocks a pretty theory on the head, and twice over, too. I should like to make Holman’s acquaintance.’

  ‘I am sure they would be glad to see you at Hope Farm,’ said I, eagerly. ‘In fact, they’ve asked me to bring you several times: only I thought you would find it dull.’

  ‘Not at all. I can’t go yet though, even if you do get me an invitation; for the —— —— Company want me to go to the —— Valley, and look over the ground a bit for them, to see if it would do for a branch line; it’s a job which may take me away for some time; but I shall be backwards and forwards, and you’re quite up to do
ing what is needed in my absence; the only work that may be beyond you is keeping old Jevons from drinking.’

  He went on giving me directions about the management of the men employed on the line, and no more was said then, or for several months, about his going to Hope Farm. He went off into —— Valley, a dark overshadowed dale, where the sun seemed to set behind the hills before four o’clock on midsummer afternoon.

  Perhaps it was this that brought on the attack of low fever which he had soon after the beginning of the new year; he was very ill for many weeks, almost many months; a married sister – his only relation, I think – came down from London to nurse him, and I went over to him when I could, to see him, and give him ‘masculine news,’ as he called it; reports of the progress of the line, which, I am glad to say, I was able to carry on in his absence, in the slow gradual way which suited the company best, while trade was in a languid state, and money dear in the market. Of course, with this occupation for my scanty leisure, I did not often go over to Hope Farm. Whenever I did go, I met with a thorough welcome; and many inquiries were made as to Holds-worth’s illness, and the progress of his recovery.

  At length, in June I think it was, he was sufficiently recovered to come back to his lodgings at Eltham, and resume part at least of his work. His sister, Mrs Robinson, had been obliged to leave him some weeks before, owing to some epidemic amongst her own children. As long as I had seen Mr Holdsworth in the rooms at the little inn at Hensleydale, where I had been accustomed to look upon him as an invalid, I had not been aware of the visible shake his fever had given to his health. But, once back in the old lodgings, where I had always seen him so buoyant, eloquent, decided, and vigorous in former days, my spirits sank at the change in one whom I had always regarded with a strong feeling of admiring affection. He sank into silence and despondency after the least exertion; he seemed as if he could not make up his mind to any action, or else that, when it was made up, he lacked strength to carry out his purpose. Of course, it was but the natural state of slow convalescence, after so sharp an illness; but, at the time, I did not know this, and perhaps I represented his state as more serious than it was to my kind relations at Hope Farm; who, in their grave, simple, eager way, immediately thought of the only help they could give.

  ‘Bring him out here,’ said the minister. ‘Our air here is good to a proverb; the June days are fine; he may loiter away his time in the hay-field, and the sweet smells will be a balm in themselves – better than physic.’

  ‘And,’ said cousin Holman, scarcely waiting for her husband to finish his sentence, ‘tell him there is new milk and fresh eggs to be had for the asking; it’s luck Daisy has just calved, for her milk is always as good as other cows’ cream; and there is the plaid room with the morning sun all streaming in.’

  Phillis said nothing, but looked as much interested in the project as any one. I took it upon myself. I wanted them to see him; him to know them. I proposed it to him when I got home. He was too languid after the day’s fatigue, to be willing to make the little exertion of going amongst strangers; and disappointed me by almost declining to accept the invitation I brought. The next morning it was different; he apologized for his ungraciousness of the night before; and told me that he would get all things in train, so as to be ready to go out with me to Hope Farm on the following Saturday.

  ‘For you must go with me, Manning,’ said he; ‘I used to be as impudent a fellow as need be, and rather liked going amongst strangers, and making my way; but since my illness I am almost like a girl, and turn hot and cold with shyness, as they do, I fancy.’

  So it was fixed. We were to go out to Hope Farm on Saturday afternoon; and it was also understood that if the air and the life suited Mr Holdsworth, he was to remain there for a week or ten days, doing what work he could at that end of the line, while I took his place at Eltham to the best of my ability. I grew a little nervous, as the time drew near, and wondered how the brilliant Holdsworth would agree with the quiet quaint family of the minister; how they would like him, and many of his half-foreign ways. I tried to prepare him, by telling him from time to time little things about the goings-on at Hope Farm.

  ‘Manning,’ said he, ‘I see you don’t think I am half good enough for your friends. Out with it, man.’

  ‘No,’ I replied, boldly. ‘I think you are good; but I don’t know if you are quite of their kind of goodness.’

  ‘And you’ve found out already that there is greater chance of disagreement between two “kinds of goodness,” each having its own idea of right, than between a given goodness and a moderate degree of naughtiness – which last often arises from an indifference to right?’

  ‘I don’t know. I think you’re talking metaphysics, and I am sure that is bad for you.’

  ‘“When a man talks to you in a way that you don’t understand about a thing which he does not understand, them’s metaphysics.” You remember the clown’s definition, don’t you, Manning?’

  ‘No, I don’t,’ said I. ‘But what I do understand is, that you must go to bed; and tell me at what time we must start to-morrow, that I may go to Hepworth, and get those letters written we were talking about this morning.’

  ‘Wait till to-morrow, and let us see what the day is like,’ he answered, with such languid indecision as showed me he was over-fatigued. So I went my way.

  The morrow was blue and sunny, and beautiful; the very perfection of an early summer’s day. Mr Holdsworth was all impatience to be off into the country; morning had brought back his freshness and strength, and consequent eagerness to be doing. I was afraid we were going to my cousin’s farm rather too early, before they would expect us; but what could I do with such a restless vehement man as Holdsworth was that morning? We came down upon the Hope Farm before the dew was off the grass on the shady side of the lane; the great house-dog was loose, basking in the sun, near the closed side door. I was surprised at the door being shut, for all summer long it was open from morning to night; but it was only on latch. I opened it, Rover watching me with half-suspicious, half-trustful eyes. The room was empty.

  ‘I don’t know where they can be,’ said I. ‘But come in and sit down while I go and look for them. You must be tired.’

  ‘Not I. This sweet balmy air is like a thousand tonics. Besides, this room is hot, and smells of those pungent wood-ashes. What are we to do?’

  ‘Go round to the kitchen. Betty will tell us where they are.’

  So we went round into the farmyard, Rover accompanying us out of a grave sense of duty. Betty was washing out her milk-pans in the cold bubbling spring-water that constantly trickled in and out of a stone trough. In such weather as this most of her kitchen-work was done out of doors.

  ‘Eh, dear!’ said she, ‘the minister and missus is away at Hornby! They ne’er thought of your coming so betimes!’ The missus had some errands to do, and she thought as she’d walk with the minister and be back by dinner-time.’

  ‘Did not they expect us to dinner?’ said I.

  ‘Well, they did, and they did not, as I may say. Missus said to me the cold lamb would do well enough if you did not come; and if you did I was to put on a chicken and some bacon to boil; and I’ll go do it now, for it is hard to boil bacon enough.’

  ‘And is Phillis gone, too?’ Mr Holdsworth was making friends with Rover.

  ‘No! She’s just somewhere about. I reckon you’ll find her in the kitchen-garden, getting peas.’

  ‘Let us go there,’ said Holdsworth, suddenly leaving off his play with the dog.

  So I led the way to the kitchen-garden. It was in the first promise of a summer profuse in vegetables and fruits. Perhaps it was not so much cared for as other parts of the property; but it was more attended to than most kitchen-gardens belonging to farm-houses. There were borders of flowers along each side of the gravel walks; and there was an old sheltering wall on the north side covered with tolerably choice fruit-trees; there was a slope down to the fish-pond at the end, where there were great strawberry-beds; and
raspberry bushes and rose-bushes grew wherever there was a space; it seemed a chance which had been planted. Long rows of peas stretched at right angles from the main walk, and I saw Phillis stooping down among them, before she saw us. As soon as she heard our cranching steps on the gravel, she stood up, and shading her eyes from the sun, recognized us. She was quite still for a moment, and then came slowly towards us, blushing a little from evident shyness. I had never seen Phillis shy before.

  ‘This is Mr Holdsworth, Phillis,’ said I, as soon as I had shaken hands with her. She glanced up at him, and then looked down, more flushed than ever at his grand formality of taking his hat off and bowing; such manners had never been seen at Hope Farm before.

  ‘Father and mother are out. They will be so sorry; you did not write, Paul, as you said you would.’

  ‘It was my fault,’ said Holdsworth, understanding what she meant as well as if she had put it more fully into words. ‘I have not yet given up all the privileges of an invalid; one of which is indecision. Last night, when your cousin asked me at what time we were to start, I really could not make up my mind.’

  Phillis seemed as if she could not make up her mind as to what to do with us. I tried to help her –

  ‘Have you finished getting peas?’ taking hold of the half-filled basket she was unconsciously holding in her hand; ‘or may we stay and help you?’

  ‘If you would. But perhaps it will tire you, sir?’ added she, speaking now to Holdsworth.

  ‘Not a bit,’ said he. ‘It will carry me back twenty years of my life, when I used to gather peas in my grandfather’s garden. I suppose I may eat a few as I go along?’

  ‘Certainly, sir. But if you went to the strawberry-beds you would find some strawberries ripe, and Paul can show you where they are.’

  ‘I am afraid you distrust me. I can assure you I know the exact fulness at which peas should be gathered. I take great care not to pluck them when they are unripe. I will not be turned off, as unfit for my work.’