# Marriage (Ferrier)/Chapter II

"C'est un personnage illustre dans son genre, et qui a porté le talent de se bien nourrir jusques ou il pouvoit aller; . . . il ne semble né que pour la digestion."—LA BRUYERE.
IN every season of life grief brings its own peculiar antidote along with it. The buoyancy of youth soon repels its deadening weight, the firmness of manhood resists its weakening influence, the torpor of old age is insensible to its most acute pangs.
In spite of the disappointment she had experienced the preceding day, Mary arose the following morning with fresh hopes of happiness springing in her heart.
"What a fool I was," thought she, "to view so seriously what, after all, must be merely difference of manner; and how illiberal to expect every one's manners should accord exactly with my ideas; but now that I have got over the first impression, I daresay I shall find everybody quite amiable and delightful!"
And Mary quickly reasoned herself into the belief that she only could have been to blame. With renovated spirits she therefore joined her cousin, and accompanied her to the breakfasting saloon. The visitors had all departed, but Dr. Redgill had returned and seemed to be at the winding up of a solitary but voluminous meal. He was a very tall corpulent man, with a projecting front, large purple nose, and a profusion of chin.
"Good morning, ladies," mumbled he with a full mouth, as he made a feint of half-rising from his chair. "Lady Emily, your servant—Miss Douglas, I presume—hem! allow me to pull the bell for your Ladyship," as he sat without stirring hand or foot; then, after it was done—"'Pon my honour, Lady Emily, this is not using me well Why did you not desire me? And you are so nimble, I defy any man to get the start of you."
"I know you have been upon hard service, Doctor, and therefore I humanely wished to spare you any additional fatigue," replied Lady Emily.
"Fatigue, phoo! I'm sure I mind fatigue as little as any man; besides it's really nothing to speak of. I have merely rode from my friend Admiral Yellowchops' this morning."
"I hope you passed a pleasant day there yesterday?"
"So, so—very so, so," returned the Doctor drily.
"Only so, so, and a turtle in the case!" exclaimed Lady Emily.
"Phoo!—as to that, the turtle was neither here nor there. I value turtle as little as any man. You may be sure it wasn't for that I went to see my old friend Yellowchops. It happened, indeed, that there was a turtle, and a very well dressed one too; but where five and thirty people (one half of them ladies, who, of course, are always helped first) sit down to dinner, there's an end of all rational happiness in my opinion."
"But at a turtle feast you have surely something much better. You know you may have rational happiness any day over a beef-steak."
"I beg your pardon—that's not such an easy matter. I can assure you it is a work of no small skill to dress a beef-steak handsomely; and, moreover, to eat it in perfection a man must eat it by himself. If once you come to exchange words over it, it is useless. I once saw the finest steak I ever clapped my eyes upon completely ruined by one silly scoundrel asking another if he liked fat. If he liked fat!—what a question for one rational being to ask another! The fact is, a beef-steak is like a woman's reputation, if once it is breathed upon it's good for nothing!"
"One of the stories with which my nurse used to amuse my childhood," said Mary, "was that of having seen an itinerant conjuror dress a beef-steak on his tongue."
The Doctor suspended the morsel he was carrying to his mouth, and for the first time regarded Mary with looks of unfeigned admiration.
"'Pon my honour, and that was as clever a trick as ever I heard of! You are a wonderful people, you Scotch—a very wonderful people—but, pray, was she at any pains to examine the fellow's tongue?"
"I imagine not," said Mary; "I suppose the love of science was not strong enough to make her run the risk of burning her fingers."
"It's a thousand pities," said the Doctor, as he dropped his chin with an air of disappointment. "I am surprised none of your Scotch scavans got hold of the fellow and squeezed the secret out of him. It might have proved an important discovery—a very important discovery; and your Scotch are not apt to let anything escape them—a very searching, shrewd people as ever I knew—and that's the only way to arrive at knowledge. A man must be of a stirring mind if he expects to do good."
"A poor woman below wishes to se you, sir," said a servant.
"These poor women are perfect pests to society," said the Doctor, as his nose assumed a still darker hue; "there is no resting upon one's seat for them—always something the matter! The burn, and bruise, and hack themselves and their brats, one would really think, on purpose to give trouble."
"I have not the least doubt of it," said Lady Emily; "they must find your sympathy so soothing."
"As to that, Lady Emily, if you know as much about poor women as I do, you wouldn't think so much of them as you do. Take my word for it—they are one and all of them a very greedy, ungrateful set, and require to be kept at a distance."
"And also to be kept waiting. As poor people's time is their only wealth, I observe you generally make them pay a pretty large fee in that way."
"That is really not what I would have expected from you, Lady Emily. I must take the liberty to say your Ladyship does me the greatest injustice. You must be sensible how ready I am to fly," rising as if he had been glued to his chair, "when there is any real danger. I'm sure it was only last week I got up as soon as I had swallowed my dinner to see a man who had fallen down in a fit; and now I am going to this woman, who, I daresay, has nothing the matter with her, before my breakfast is well down my throat."
"Who is that gentleman?" asked Mary, as the Doctor at length, with much reluctance, shuffled out of the room.
"He is a sort of medical aid-de-camp of papa's," answered Lady Emily; "who, for the sake of good living, has got himself completely domesticated here. He is vulgar, selfish, and gourmand, as you must already have discovered; but these are accounted his greatest perfections, as papa, like all indolent people, must be diverted—and that he never is by genteel, sensible people. He requires something more piquant,and nothing fatigues him so much as the conversation of a commonplace, sensible man—one who has the skill to keep his foibles out of sight. Now what delights him in Dr. Redgill, there is no retenu—any child who runs may read his character at a glance."
"It certainly does not require much penetration," said Mary, "to discover the Doctor's master-passion; love of ease and self-indulgence seem to be the pre-dominant features of his mind; and he looks as if, when he sat in an arm-chair, with his toes on the fender and his hands crossed, he would not have an idea beyond 'I wonder what we shall have for dinner to-day.'"
"I'm glad to hear you say so, Miss Douglas," said the Doctor, catching the last words as he entered the room, and taking them to be the spontaneous effusions of the speaker's own heart; "I rejoice to hear you say so. Suppose we send for the bill of fare,"—pulling the bell; and then to the servant, who answered the summons, "Desire Grillade to send up his bill—Miss Douglas wishes to see it."
"Young ladies are much more house wifely in Scotland than they are in this country," continued the Doctor, seating himself as close as possible to Mary,—"at least they were when I knew Scotland; but that's not yesterday, and it's much changed since then, I daresay. I studied physic in Edinburgh, and went upon a tower through the Highlands. 'I was very much pleased with what I saw, I assure you. Fine country in some respects—nature has been very liberal."
Mary's heart leapt within her at hearing her dear native land praised even by Dr. Redgill, and her conscience smote her for the harsh and hasty censure she had passed upon him. "One who can admire the scenery of the Highlands," thought she, "must have a mind. It has always been observed that only persons of taste were capable of appreciating the peculiar charms of mountain scenery. A London citizen, or a Lincolnshire grazier, sees nothing but deformity in the sublime works of nature," ergo, reasoned Mary, "Dr. Redgill must be of a more elevated way of thinking than I had supposed." The entrance of Lady Juliana prevented her expressing the feelings that were upon her lips; but she thought what pleasure she would have in resuming the delightful theme at another opportunity.
After slightly noticing her daughter, and carefully adjusting her favourites, Lady Juliana began:—
"I am anxious to consult you, Dr. Redgill, upon the state of this young person's health.—You have been excessively ill, my dear, have you not? (My sweetest Blanche, do be quiet!) You had a cough, I think, and everything that was bad.—And as her friends in Scotland have sent her to me for a short time, entirely on account of her health (My charming, Frisk, your spirits are really too much!), I think it quite proper that she should be confined to her own apartment during the winter, that she may get quite well and strong against spring. As to visiting or going into company, that of course must be quite out of the question. You can tell Dr. Redgill, my dear, all about your complaints yourself."
Mary tried to articulate, but her feelings rose almost to suffocation, and the words died upon her lips.
"Your Ladyship confounds me," said the Doctor, pulling out his spectacles, which, after duly wiping, he adjusted on his nose, and turned their beams full on Mary's face—"I really never should have guessed there was anything the matter with the young lady. She does look a leettle delicate, to be sure-changing colour, too—but hand cool—eye clear—pulse steady, a leettle impetuous, but that's nothing, and the appetite good. I own I was surprised to see you cut so good a figure after the delicious meals you have been accustomed to in the North: you must find it miserable picking here. An English breakfast," glancing with contempt at the eggs, muffins, toast, preserves, etc. etc., he had collected round him, "is really a most insipid meal. If I did not make a rule of rising early and taking regular exercise, I doubt very much if I should be able to swallow a mouthful-there's nothing to whet the appetite here; and it's the same everywhere; as Yellowchops says, our breakfasts are a disgrace to England. One would think the whole nation was upon a regimen of tea and toast—from the Land's End to Berwick-upon-Tweed, nothing but tea and toast. Your Ladyship must really acknowledge the prodigious advantage the Scotch possess over us in that respect."
"I thought the breakfasts, like everything else in Scotland, extremely disgusting," replied her Ladyship, with indignation.
"Ha! well, that really amazes me. The people I give up—they are dirty and greedy—the country, too, is a perfect mass of rubbish, and the dinners not fit for dogs—the cookery, I mean; as to the materials, they are admirable. But the breakfasts! That's what redeems the land; and every country has its own peculiar excellence. In Argyleshire you have the Lochfine herring, fat, luscious, and delicious, just out of the water, falling to pieces with its own richness—melting away like butter in your mouth. In Aberdeenshire you have the Finnan haddo' with a flavour all its own, vastly relishing—just salt enough to be piquant, without parching you up with thirst. In Perthshire there is the Tay salmon, kippered, crisp, and juicy—a very magnificent morsel—a leettle heavy, but that's easily counteracted by a teaspoonful of the Athole whisky. In other places you have the exquisite mutton of the country made into hams of a most delicate flavour; flour scones, soft and white; oatcake, thin and crisp; marmalade and jams of every description; and—but I beg pardon—your Ladyship was upon the subject of this young lady's health. 'Pon my honour! I can see little the matter. We were just going to look over the bill together when your Ladyship entered. I see it begins with that eternal soupe santé, and that paltry potage-an-riz. This is the second day within a week Monsieur Grillade has thought fit to treat us with them; and it's a fortnight yesterday since I have seen either oyster or turtle soup upon the table. 'Pon my honour! such inattention is infamous. I know Lord Courtland detests soupe santé, or, what's the same thing, he's quite indifferent to it; for I take indifference and dislike to be much the same. A man's indifference to his dinner-is a serious thing, and so I shall let Monsieur Grillade know." And the Doctor's chin rose and fell like the waves of the sea.
"What is the name of the physician at Bristol who is so celebrated for consumptive complaints?" asked Lady Juliana of Adelaide. "I shall send for him; he is the only person I have any reliance upon. I know he always recommends confinement for consumption."
Tears dropped from Mary's eyes. Lady Juliana regarded her with surprise and severity.
"How very tiresome! I really can't stand these perpetual scènes. Adelaide, my love, pull the bell for my eau-de-luce. Dr. Redgill, place the screen there. This room is insufferably hot. My dogs will literally be roasted alive;" and her Ladyship fretted about in all the perturbation of ill-humour.
"'Pon my honour! I don't think the room hot," said the Doctor, who, from a certain want of tact and capacity of intellect, never comprehended the feelings of others. "I declare I have felt it much hotter when your Ladyship has complained of the cold; but there's no accounting for people's feelings. If you would move your seat a leettle this way, I think you would be cooler; and as to your daughter—"
"I have repeatedly desired, Dr. Redgill, that you will not use these familiar appellations when you address me or any of my family," interrupted Lady Juliana with haughty indignation.
"I beg pardon," said the Doctor, nowise discomposed at this rebuff. "Well, with regard to Miss—Miss—this young lady, I assure your Ladyship, you need be under no apprehensions on her account. She's a leettle nervous, that's all—take her about by all means—all young ladies love to go about and see sights. Show her the pump-room, and the ball-room, and the shops, and the rope-dancers, and the wild beasts, and there's no fear of her. I never recommend confinement to man, woman, or child. It destroys the appetite—and our appetite is the best part of us. What would we be without appetites? Miserable beings! worse than the beasts of the field!" And away shuffled the Doctor to admonish Monsieur Grillade on the iniquity of neglecting this the noblest attribute of man.
"It appears to me excessively extraordinary," said Lady Juliana, addressing Mary, "that Mrs. Douglas should have alarmed me so much about your health, when it seems there's nothing the matter with you. She certainly showed very little regard for my feelings. I can't understand it; and I must say, if you are not ill, I have been most excessively ill-used by your Scotch friends." And, with an air of great indignation, her Ladyship swept out of the room, regardless of the state into which she had thrown her daughter.
Poor Mary's feelings were now at their climax, and she gave way to all the repressed agony that swelled her heart. Lady Emily, who had been amusing herself at the other end of the saloon, and had heard nothing of what had passed, flew towards her at sight, of her suffering, and eagerly demanded of Adelaide the cause.
"I really don't know," answered Adelaide, lifting her beautiful eyes from her book with the greatest composure; "Lady Juliana is always cross of a morning."
"Oh no!" exclaimed Mary, trying to regain her composure, "the fault is mine. I—I have offended my mother, I know not how. Tell me, oh tell me, how I can obtain her forgiveness!"
"Obtain her forgiveness!" repeated Lady Emily indignantly, "for what?"
"Alas! I know not; but in some way I have displeased my mother; her looks—her words—her manner—all tell me how dissatisfied she is with me; while to my sister, and even to her very dogs——-Here Mary's agitation choked her utterance.
"If you expect to be treated like a dog, you will certainly be disappointed," said Lady Emily. "I wonder Mrs. Douglas did not warn you of what you had to expect. She must have known something of Lady Juliana's ways; and it would have been as well had you been better prepared to encounter them."
Mary looked hurt, and making an effort to conquer her emotion, she said, "Mrs. Douglas never spoke, of my mother with disrespect; but she did warn me against expecting too much from her affection. She said I had been too long estranged from her to have retained my place in her heart; but still—"
"You could not foresee the reception you have me with? Nor I neither. Did you, Adelaide?'
"Lady Juliana is sometimes so odd," answered her daughter in her sweetest tone, "that I really am seldom surprised at anything she does; but all this fracas appears to me perfectly absurd, as nobody minds anything she says."
"Impossible!" exclaimed Mary; "my duty must ever be to reverence my mother. My study should be to please her, if I only knew how; and oh! would she but suffer me to love her!"
Adelaide regarded her sister for a moment with a look of surprise; then rose and left the room, humming an Italian air.
Lady Emily remained with her cousin, but she was a bad comforter. Her indignation against the oppressor was always much stronger than her sympathy with the oppressed; and she would have been more in her element scolding the mother than soothing the daughter.
But Mary had not been taught to trust to mortals weak as herself for support in the hour of trial. She knew her aid must come from a higher source; and in solitude she sought for consolation.
"This must be all for my good," sighed she, "else it would not be. I had drawn too bright a picture of happiness; already it is blotted out with my tears. I must set about replacing it with one of soberer colours."
Alas! Mary knew not how many a fair picture of human felicity had shared the same fate as hers!