Jane Austen

Sanditon 

CHAPTER I

A Gentleman and Lady travelling from Tunbridge towards that part of the Sussex coast which lies between Hastings and Eastbourne, being induced by Business to quit the high road, and attempt a very rough Lane, were overturned in toiling up its long ascent, half rock, half sand. The accident happened just beyond the only Gentleman's House near the Lane—a House, which their Driver on being first required to take that direction, had conceived to be necessarily their object, and had with most unwilling Looks been constrained to pass by. He had grumbled, and shaken his shoulders so much indeed, and pitied and cut his Horses so sharply, that he might have been open to the suspicion of overturning them on purpose (especially as the Carriage was not his Masters' own) if the road had not indisputably become considerably worse than before, as soon as the premises of the said House were left behind—expressing with a most intelligent portentous countenance that beyond it no wheels but cart wheels could safely proceed. The severity of the fall was broken by their slow pace and the narrowness of the Lane, and the Gentleman having scrambled out and helped out his companion, they neither of them at first felt more than shaken and bruised. But the Gentleman had in the course of the extrication sprained his foot, and soon becoming sensible of it, was obliged in a few moments to cut short both his remonstrance to the Driver and his congratulations to his wife and himself, and sit down on the bank, unable to stand. ‘There is something wrong here’, said he, putting his hand to his ankle. ‘But never mind, my Dear’ — looking up at her with a smile — ‘It could not have happened, you know, in a better place. Good out of Evil. The very thing perhaps to be wished for. We shall soon get relief. There, I fancy, lies my cure’ — pointing to the neat-looking end of a Cottage, which was seen romantically situated among woods on a high Eminence at some little Distance. ‘Does not that promise to be the very place?’ His wife fervently hoped it was, but stood, terrified and anxious, neither able to do or suggest anything, and receiving her first real comfort from the sight of several persons now coming to their assistance. The accident had been discerned from a Hayfield adjoining the House they had passed, and the persons who approached were a well-looking, Hale, Gentlemanlike Man, of middle age, the Proprietor of the Place, who happened to be among his Haymakers at the time, and three or four of the ablest of them summoned to attend their Master — to say nothing of all the rest of the field, Men, Women and Children — not very far off. Mr. Heywood, such was the name of the said Proprietor, advanced with a very civil salutation, much concern for the accident, some surprise at any body's attempting that road in a Carriage, and ready offers of assistance. His courtesies were received with Goodbreeding and gratitude and while one or two of the Men lent their help to the Driver in getting the Carriage upright again, the Traveller said : ‘You are extremely obliging, Sir, and I take you at your word. The injury to my Leg is, I dare say, very trifling, but it is always best in these cases to have a surgeon's opinion without loss of time; and as the

road does not seem at present in a favourable state for my

Austen Sanditon and other miscellanea.djvu

HE WAS OBLIGED . . . TO SIT DOWN ON THE BANK,

UNABLE TO STAND

getting up to his house myself; I will thank you to send off one of these good People for the Surgeon.’ ‘The Surgeon, Sir!’ replied Mr. Heywood, ‘I am afraid you will find no surgeon at hand here, but I dare say we shall do very well without him.’ ‘Nay, Sir, if he is not in the way, his Partner will do just as well—or rather better. I would rather see his Partner indeed—I would prefer the attendance of his Partner. One of these good people can be with him in three minutes I am sure. I need not ask whether I see the House’ (looking towards the Cottage), ‘for excepting your own, we have passed none in this place which can be the abode of a Gentleman.’ Mr. Heywood looked very much astonished, and replied: ‘What, Sir! are you expecting to find a Surgeon in that Cottage? We have neither Surgeon nor Partner in the Parish, I assure you.’ ‘Excuse me, Sir,’ replied the other. `I am sorry to have the appearance of contradicting you, but though from the extent of the Parish or some other cause you may not be aware of the fact;—stay—Can I be mistaken in the place?—Am I not in Willingden?—Is not this Willingden?’ ‘Yes, Sir, this is certainly Willingden.' 'Then, Sir, I can bring proof of your having a Surgeon in the Parish—whether you may know it or not. Here, Sir’ (taking out his Pocket book), ‘if you will do me the favour of casting your eye over these advertisements, which I cut out myself from the Morning Post and the Kentish Gazette, only yesterday morning in London, I think you will be convinced that I am not speaking at random. You will find it an advertisement, Sir, of the dissolution of a Partnership in the Medical Line—in your own Parish—extensive Business—undeniable Character—respectable references—wishing to form a separate Establishment. You will find it at full length, Sir,’ offering him the two little oblong extracts. `Sir,’ said Mr. Heywood with a good-humoured smile, ‘if you were to shew me all the Newspapers that are printed in one week throughout the Kingdom, you would not persuade me of there being a Surgeon in Willingden, for having lived here ever since I was born, Man and Boy 57 years, I think I must have known of such a person, at least I may venture to say that he has not much Business. To be sure, if Gentlemen were to be often attempting this Lane in Post-chaises, it might not be a bad speculation for a Surgeon to get a House at the top of the Hill. But as to that Cottage, I can assure you, Sir, that it is in fact (in spite of its spruce air at this distance) as indifferent a double Tenement as any in the Parish, and that my Shepherd lives at one end, and three old women at the other.’ He took the pieces of paper as he spoke and having looked them over, added, ‘I believe I can explain it, Sir. Your mistake is in the place. There are two Willingdens in this Country, and your advertisements refer to the other, which is Great Willingden, or Willingden Abbots, and lies 7 miles off, on the other side of Battle—quite down in the Weald. And we, Sir’ (speaking rather proudly), ‘are not in the Weald.' ‘Not down in the Weald I am sure, Sir,’ replied the Traveller, pleasantly. ‘It took us half an hour to climb your Hill. Well, Sir, I dare say it is as you say, and I have made an abominably stupid Blunder. All done in a moment; the advertisements did not catch my eye till the last half hour of our being in Town, when everything was in the hurry and confusion which always attend a short stay there. One is never able to complete anything in the way of Business, you know, till the Carriage is at the door; and accordingly satisfying myself with a brief enquiry, and finding we were actually to pass within a mile of two of a Willingden, I sought no farther . . . My Dear’ (to his wife), ‘I am very sorry to have brought you into this Scrape. But do not be alarmed about my Leg. It gives me no pain while I am quiet, and as soon as these good people have succeeded in setting the Carriage to rights and turning the Horses round, the best thing we can do will be to measure back our steps into the Turnpike road and proceed to Hailsham, and so Home, without attempting anything farther. Two hours take us home, from Hailsham, and when once at home, we have our remedy at hand, you know. A little of our own Bracing Sea air will soon set me on my feet again. Depend upon it, my Dear, it is exactly a case for the Sea. Saline air and immersion will be the very thing. My sensations tell me so already.’ In a most friendly manner Mr. Heywood here interposed, entreating them not to think of proceeding till the ankle had been examined, and some refreshment taken, and very cordially pressing them to make use of his House for both purposes. ‘We are always well stocked,’ said he, ‘with all the common remedies for Sprains and Bruises, and I will answer for the pleasure it will give my Wife and daughters to be of service to you and this Lady in every way in their power.’ A twinge or two, in trying to move his foot, disposed the Traveller to think rather more as he had done at first of the benefit of immediate assistance, and consulting his wife in the few words of ‘Well, my Dear, I believe it will be better for us,’ turned again to Mr. Heywood and said: ‘Before we accept your Hospitality, Sir, and in order to do away any unfavourable impression which the sort of wild-goose chase you find me in may have given rise to, allow me to tell you who we are. My name is Parker—Mr. Parker of Sanditon; this Lady, my wife, Mrs. Parker. We are on our road home from London. My name, perhaps, though I am by no means the first of my Family, holding Landed Property in the Parish of Sanditon, may be unknown at this distance from the Coast; but Sanditon itself—everybody has heard of Sanditon, the favourite, for a young and rising Bathing-place, certainly the favourite spot of all that are to be found along the coast of Sussex; the most favoured by Nature, and promising to be the most chosen by Man.’ ‘Yes, I have heard of Sanditon,' replied Mr. Heywood. ‘Every five years one hears of some new place or other starting up by the Sea, and growing the fashion. How they can half of them be filled, is the wonder! Where People can be found with Money or Time to go to them! Bad things for a Country; sure to raise the price of Provisions and make the Poor good for nothing—as I dare say you find, Sir.' ‘Not at all, Sir, not at all,' cried Mr. Parker eagerly. ‘Quite the contrary, I assure you. A common idea, but a mistaken one. It may apply to your large, overgrown Places, like Brighton, or Worthing, or Eastbourne, but not to a small village like Sanditon, precluded by its size from experiencing any of the evils of Civilization, while the growth of the place, the Buildings, the Nursery Grounds, the demand for every thing, and the sure resort of the very best Company, those regular, steady, private Families of thorough Gentility and Character, who are a blessing everywhere, excite the industry of the Poor and diffuse comfort and improvement among them of every sort. No, Sir, I assure you, Sanditon is not a place——’ ‘I do not mean to take exceptions to any place in particular, Sir,’ answered Mr. Heywood; `I only think our Coast is too full of them altogether. But had we not better try to get you——’ 'Our Coast too full,’ repeated Mr. Parker. ‘On that point perhaps we may not totally disagree; at least there are enough. Our Coast is abundant enough; it demands no more. Everybody's Taste and everybody’s finances may be suited. And those good people who are trying to add to the number, are in my opinion excessively absurd, and must soon find themselves the Dupes of their own fallacious Calculations. Such a place as Sanditon, Sir, I may say was wanted, was called for. Nature had marked it out, had spoken in most intelligible Characters—The finest, purest Sea Breeze on the Coast—acknowledged to be so—Excellent Bathing—fine hard sand—Deep Water 10 yards from the Shore—no Mud—no Weeds—-no slimy rocks. Never was there a place more palpably designed by Nature for the resort of the Invalid—the very Spot which Thousands seemed in need of. The most desirable distance from London! One complete, measured mile nearer than Eastbourne. Only conceive, Sir, the advantage of saving a whole Mile, in a long Journey. But Brinshore, Sir, which I dare say you have in your eye—the attempts of two or three speculating People about Brinshore, this last Year, to raise that paltry Hamlet, lying, as it does, between a stagnant marsh, a bleak Moor and the constant effluvia of a ridge of putrefying sea weed, can end in nothing but their own Disappointment. What in the name of Common Sense is to recommend Brinshore? A most insalubrious Air—Roads proverbially detestable—Water Brackish beyond example, impossible to get a good dish of Tea within 3 miles of the place—and as for the Soil, it is so cold and ungrateful that it can hardly be made to yield a Cabbage. Depend upon it, Sir, that this is a faithful Description of Brinshore—not in the smallest degree exaggerated—and if you have heard it differently spoken of ——’ ‘Sir, I never heard it spoken of in my Life before,’ said Mr. Heywood. ‘I did not know there was such a place in the World.’ `You did not! There, my Dear’ (turning with exultation to his Wife), ‘you see how it is. So much for the Celebrity of Brinshore! This Gentleman did not know there was such a place in the World. Why, in truth, Sir, I fancy we may apply to Brinshore, that line of the Poet Cowper in his description of the religious Cottager, as opposed to Voltaire—“She, never heard of half a mile from home.”’ ‘With all my Heart, Sir, Apply any Verses you like to it. But I want to see something applied to your Leg, and I am sure by your Lady’s countenance that she is quite of my opinion and thinks it a pity to lose any more time. And here come my Girls to speak for themselves and their Mother’ (two or three genteel looking young Women, followed by as many Maid servants, were now seen issuing from the House). ‘I began to wonder the Bustle should not have reached them. A thing of this kind soon makes a Stir in a lonely place like ours. Now, Sir, let us see how you can be best conveyed into the House.’ The young Ladies approached and said everything that was proper to recommend their Father’s offers; and in an unaffected manner calculated to make the Strangers easy, and as Mrs. Parker was exceedingly anxious for relief; and her Husband by this time not much less disposed for it, a very few civil scruples were enough, especially as the Carriage being now set up, was discovered to have received such Injury on the fallen side as to be unfit for present use. Mr. Parker was therefore carried into the House, and his Carriage wheeled off to a vacant Barn.

CHAPTER II

The acquaintance, thus oddly begun, was neither short nor unimportant. For a whole fortnight the Travellers were fixed at Willingden; Mr. Parker's sprain proving too serious for him to move sooner. He had fallen into very good hands. The Heywoods were a thoroughly respectable family, and every possible attention was paid in the kindest and most unpretending manner, to both Husband and wife. He was waited on and nursed, and she cheered and comforted with unremitting kindness, and as every office of Hospitality and friendliness was received as it ought, as there was not more good will on one side than Gratitude on the other, nor any deficiency of generally pleasant manners on either, they grew to like each other in the course of that fortnight, exceedingly well. Mr. Parker's Character and History were soon unfolded. All that he understood of himself, he readily told, for he was very openhearted; and where he might be himself in the dark, his conversation was still giving information, to such of the Heywoods as could observe. By such he was perceived to be an Enthusiast; on the subject of Sanditon, a complete Enthusiast. Sanditon—the success of Sanditon as a small, fashionable Bathing Place was the object for which he seemed to live. A very few years ago, and it had been a quiet Village of no pretensions; but some natural advantages in its position and some accidental circumstances having suggested to himself, and the other principal Land Holder, the probability of its becoming a profitable Speculation, they had engaged in it, and planned and built, and praised and puffed, and raised it to a something of young Renown, and Mr. Parker could now think of very little besides. The Facts, which in more direct communication, he laid before them, were that he was about thirty-five, had been married—very happily married—7 years, and had 4 sweet Children at home; that he was of a respectable Family, and easy though not large fortune; no Profession—succeeding as eldest son to the Property which 2 or 3 Generations had been holding and accumulating before him; that he had 2 Brothers and 2 Sisters—all single and all independent—the eldest of the two former indeed, by collateral Inheritance, quite as well provided for as himself. His object in quitting the high road, to hunt for an advertising Surgeon, was also plainly stated; it had not proceeded from any intention of spraining his ankle or doing himself any other Injury for the good of such Surgeon, nor (as Mr. Heywood had been apt to suppose) from any design of entering into Partnership with him; it was merely in consequence of a wish to establish some medical Man at Sanditon, which the nature of the Advertisement induced him to expect to accomplish in Willingden. He was convinced that the advantage of a medical Man at hand would very materially promote the rise and prosperity of the Place—would in fact tend to bring a prodigious influx; nothing else was wanting. He had strong reason to believe that one family had been deterred last year from trying Sanditon on that account, and probably very many more, and his own Sisters, who were sad Invalids, and whom he was very anxious to get to Sanditon this Summer, could hardly be expected to hazard themselves in a place where they could not have immediate medical advice. Upon the whole, Mr. Parker was evidently an amiable family-man, fond of Wife, Children, Brothers and Sisters—and generally kind-hearted. Liberal, gentlemanlike, easy to please; of a sanguine turn of mind, with more Imagination than Judgment. And Mrs. Parker was as evidently a gentle, amiable, sweet tempered Woman, the properest wife in the World for a Man of strong Understanding, but not of capacity to supply the cooler reflection which her own Husband sometimes needed, and so entirely waiting to be guided on every occasion, that whether he were risking his Fortune or spraining his Ankle, she remained equally useless. Sanditon was a second Wife and 4 Children to him, hardly less Dear, and certainly more engrossing. He could talk of it for ever. It had indeed the highest claims; not only those of Birthplace, Property, and Home, it was his Mine, his Lottery, his Speculation and his Hobby Horse; his Occupation, his Hope and his Futurity. He was extremely desirous of drawing his good friends at Willingden thither; and his endeavours in the cause were as grateful and interested as they were warm. He wanted to secure the promise of a visit, to get as many of the Family as his own house would contain, to follow him to Sanditon as soon as possible; and healthy as they all undeniably were, foresaw that every one of them would be benefited by the sea. He held it indeed as certain, that no person could be really well, no person (however upheld for the present by fortuitous aids of exercise and spirits in a semblance of Health) could be really in a state of secure and permanent Health without spending at least six weeks by the Sea every year. The Sea air and Sea Bathing together were nearly infallible, one or the other of them being a match for every Disorder, of the Stomach, the Lungs or the Blood; They were anti-spasmodic, anti-pulmonary, anti-septic, anti-bilious and anti-rheumatic. Nobody could catch cold by the Sea, Nobody wanted appetite by the Sea, Nobody wanted Spirits, Nobody wanted Strength. They were healing, softing, relaxing, fortifying and bracing, seemingly just as was wanted, sometimes one, sometimes the other. If the Sea breeze failed, the Sea-Bath was the certain corrective; and where Bathing disagreed, the Sea Breeze alone was evidently designed by Nature for the cure. His eloquence however could not prevail. Mr. and Mrs. Heywood never left home. Marrying early and having a very numerous Family, their movements had been long limited to one small circle; and they were older in Habits than in Age. Excepting two Journeys to London in the year, to receive his Dividends, Mr. Heywood went no farther than his feet or his well-tried old Horse could carry him, and Mrs. Heywood’s Adventurings were only now and then to visit her Neighbours, in the old Coach which had been new when they married and fresh lined on their eldest son’s coming of age ten years ago. They had [a] very pretty Property—enough, had their family been of reasonable Limits, to have allowed them a very gentlemanlike share of Luxuries and Change, enough for them to have indulged in a new Carriage and better roads, an occasional month at Tunbridge Wells, and symptoms of the Gout and a Winter at Bath; but the maintenance, Education and fitting out of 14 Children demanded a very quiet, settled, careful course of Life, and obliged them to be stationary and healthy at Willingden. What Prudence had at first enjoined, was now rendered pleasant by Habit. They never left home, and they had a gratification in saying so. But very far from wishing their Children to do the same, they were glad to promote their getting out into the World, as much as possible, They stayed at home, that their Children might get out; and while making that home extremely comfortable, welcomed every change from it which could give useful connections or respectable acquaintance to Sons or Daughters. When Mr. and Mrs. Parker therefore ceased from soliciting a family-visit, and bounded their views to carrying back one Daughter with them, no difficulties were started. It was general pleasure and consent. Their invitation was to Miss Charlotte Heywood, a very pleasing young woman of two and twenty, the eldest of the Daughters at home, and the one who under her Mother's directions had been particularly useful and obliging to them; who had attended them most, and knew them best. Charlotte was to go, with excellent health, to bathe and be better if she could, to receive every possible pleasure which Sanditon could be made to supply by the gratitude of those she went with, and to buy new Parasols, new Gloves, and new Brooches, for her sisters and herself at the Library, which Mr. Parker was anxiously wishing to support. All that Mr. Heywood himself could be persuaded to promise was, that he would send everyone to Sanditon, who asked his advice, and that nothing should ever induce him (as far [as] the future could be answered for) to spend even 5 shillings at Brinshore.

CHAPTER III

Every Neighbourhood should have a great Lady. The great Lady of Sanditon was Lady Denham; and in their Journey from Willingden to the Coast, Mr. Parker gave Charlotte a more detailed account of her, than had been called for before. She had been necessarily often mentioned at Willingden, for being his Colleague in Speculation, Sanditon itself could not be talked of long, without the introduction of Lady Denham; and that she was a very rich old Lady, who had buried two Husbands, who knew the value of Money, was very much looked up to and had a poor Cousin living with her, were facts already well known, but some further particulars of her history and her Character served to lighten the tediousness of a long Hill, or a heavy bit of road, and to give the visiting Young Lady a suitable Knowledge of the Person with whom she might now expect to be daily associating. Lady Denham had been a rich Miss Brereton, born to Wealth but not to Education. Her first Husband had been a Mr. Hollis, a man of considerable Property in the Country, of which a large share of the Parish of Sanditon, with Manor and Mansion House, made a part. He had been an elderly Man when she married him; her own age about 30. Her motives for such a Match could be little understood at the distance of 40 years, but she had so well nursed and pleased Mr. Hollis, that at his death he left her everything—all his Estates, and all at her Disposal. After a widowhood of some years, she had been induced to marry again. The late Sir Harry Denham, of Denham Park in the Neighbourhood of Sanditon, had succeeded in removing her and her large Income to his own Domains, but he could not succeed in the views of permanently enriching his family, which were attributed to him. She had been too wary to put anything out of her own Power, and when on Sir Harry’s Decease she returned again to her own House at Sanditon, she was said to have made this boast to a friend, ‘that though she had got nothing but her Title from the Family, still she had given nothing for it.’ For the Title, it was to be supposed that she had married—and Mr. Parker acknowledged there being just such a degree of value for it apparent now, as to give her conduct that natural explanation. ‘There is at times,’ said he, ‘a little self-importance, but it is not offensive; and there are moments, there are points, when her Love of Money is carried greatly too far. But she is a goodnatured Woman, a very goodnatured Woman, a very obliging, friendly Neighbour; a cheerful, independant, valuable character, and her faults may be entirely imputed to her want of Education. She has good natural Sense, but quite uncultivated. She has a fine active mind, as well as a fine healthy frame for a Woman of 70, and enters into the improvement of Sanditon with a spirit truly admirable, though now and then a Littleness will appear. She cannot look forward quite as I would have her, and takes alarm at a trifling present expense, without considering what returns it will make her in a year or two. That is, we think differently, we now and then see things differently, Miss Heywood. Those who tell their own Story you know must be listened to with Caution. When you see us in contact, you will judge for yourself.’ Lady Denham was indeed a great Lady beyond the common wants of Society, for she had many Thousands a year to bequeath, and three distinct sets of People to be courted by: her own relations, who might very reasonably wish for her Original Thirty Thousand Pounds among them, the legal Heirs of Mr. Hollis, who must hope to be more endebted to her sense of Justice than he had allowed them to be to his, and those Members of the Denham Family, whom her second Husband had hoped to make a good Bargain for. By all of these, or by Branches of them, she had no doubt been long, and still continued to be, well attacked; and of these three divisions, Mr. Parker did not hesitate to say that Mr. Hollis’s Kindred were the least in favour and Sir Harry Denham’s the most. The former, he believed, had done themselves irremediable harm by expressions of very unwise and unjustifiable resentment at the time of Mr. Hollis’s death; the Latter, to the advantage of being the remnant of a Connection which she certainly valued, joined those of having been known to her from their Childhood, and of being always at hand to preserve their interest by reasonable attention. Sir Edward, the present Baronet, nephew to Sir Harry, resided constantly at Denham Park; and Mr. Parker had little doubt, that he and his Sister Miss Denham, who lived with him, would be principally remembered in her Will. He sincerely hoped it. Miss Denham had a very small provision, and her Brother was a poor Man for his rank in Society. ‘He is a warm friend to Sanditon,’ said Mr. Parker, ‘and his hand would be as liberal as his heart, had he the Power. He would be a noble Coadjutor! As it is, he does what he can and is running up a tasteful little Cottage Ornée, on a strip of Waste Ground Lady Denham has granted him, which I have no doubt we shall have many a Candidate for, before the end even of this Season.’ Till within the last twelvemonth, Mr. Parker had considered Sir Edward as standing without a rival, as having the fairest chance of succeeding to the greater part of all that she had to give; but there was now another person’s claims to be taken into the account, those of the young female relation, whom Lady Denham had been induced to receive into her Family. After having always protested against any such Addition, and long and often enjoyed the repeated defeats she had given to every attempt of her relations to introduce this young Lady or that young Lady as a Companion at Sanditon House, she had brought back with her from London last Michaelmas a Miss Brereton, who bid fair by her Merits to vie in favour with Sir Edward, and to secure for herself and her family that share of the accumulated Property which they had certainly the best right to inherit. Mr. Parker spoke warmly of Clara Brereton, and the interest of his story increased very much with the introduction of such a Character. Charlotte listened with more than amusement now; it was solicitude and Enjoyment, as she heard her described to be lovely, amiable, gentle, unassuming, conducting herself uniformly with great good sense, and evidently gaining, by her innate worth, on the affections of her Patroness. Beauty, Sweetness, Poverty and Dependance do not want the imagination of a Man to operate upon. With due exceptions, Woman feels for Woman very promptly and compassionately. He gave the particulars which had led to Clara’s admission at Sanditon, as no bad exemplification of that mixture of Character, that union of Littleness with Kindness, with Good Sense, with even Liberality, which he saw in Lady Denham. After having avoided London for many years, principally on account of these very Cousins, who were continually writing, inviting and tormenting her, and whom she was determined to keep at a distance, she had been obliged to go there last Michaelmas with the certainty of being detained at least a fortnight. She had gone to an Hotel, living by her own account as prudently as possible, to defy the reputed expensiveness of such a home, and at the end of three Days calling for her Bill, that she might judge of her state. Its amount was such as determined her on staying not another hour in the House, and she was preparing, in all the anger and perturbation which a belief of very gross imposition there, and an ignorance of where to go for better usage, to leave the Hotel at all hazards, when the Cousins, the politic and lucky Cousins, who seemed always to have a spy on her, introduced themselves at this important moment, and learning her situation, persuaded her to accept such a home for the rest of her stay as their humbler house, in a very inferior part of London, could offer. She went; was delighted with her welcome and the hospitality and attention she received from every body, found her good Cousins the Breretons beyond her expectation worthy people, and finally was impelled by a personal knowledge of their narrow Income and pecuniary difficulties, to invite one of the girls of the family to pass the Winter with her. The invitation was to one, for six months, with the probability of another being then to take her place; but in selecting the one, Lady Denham had shewn the good part of her Character, for passing by the actual daughters of the House, she had chosen Clara, a Niece, more helpless and more pitiable of course than any, a dependant on Poverty, an additional Burthen on an encumbered Circle, and one who had been so low in every worldly view, as with all her natural endowments and powers, to have been preparing for a situation little better than a Nursery Maid. Clara had returned with her, and by her good sense and merit had now, to all appearance, secured a very strong hold in Lady Denham's regard. The six months had long been over, and not a syllable was breathed of any change, or exchange. She was a general favourite; the influence of her steady conduct and mild, gentle Temper was felt by everybody. The prejudices which had met her at first in some quarters were all dissipated. She was felt to be worthy of Trust, to be the very companion who would guide and soften Lady Denham, who would enlarge her mind and open her hand. She was as thoroughly amiable as she was lovely, and since having had the advantage of their Sanditon Breezes, that Loveliness was complete.

CHAPTER IV

‘And whose very snug-looking Place is this?’ said Charlotte, as in a sheltered Dip within 2 miles of the Sea, they passed close by a moderate-sized house, well fenced and planted, and rich in the Garden, Orchard and Meadows which are the best embellishments of such a Dwelling. ‘It seems to have as many comforts about it as Willingden.’ 'Ah!’ said Mr. Parker, ‘This is my old House, the house of my Forefathers, the house where I and all my Brothers and Sisters were born and bred, and where my own 3 eldest Children were born, where Mrs. Parker and I lived till within the last 2 years, till our new House was finished. I am glad you are pleased with it. It is an honest old Place, and Hillier keeps it in very good order. I have given it up, you know, to the Man who occupies the chief of my Land. He gets a better House by it, and I a rather better situation. One other Hill brings us to Sanditon—modern Sanditon–a beautiful Spot. Our Ancestors, you know, always built in a hole. Here were we, pent down in this little contracted Nook, without Air or View, only one mile and three-qrs. from the noblest expanse of Ocean between the South Foreland and the Land’s End, and without the smallest advantage from it. You will not think I have made a bad exchange, when we reach Trafalgar House, which, by the by, I almost wish I had not named Trafalgar, for Waterloo is more the thing now. However, Waterloo is in reserve, and if we have encouragement enough this year for a little Crescent to be ventured on (as I trust we shall), then we shall be able to call it Waterloo Crescent, and the name joined to the form of the Building, which always takes, will give us the command of Lodgers. In a good Season we should have more applications than we could attend to.’ ‘It was always a very comfortable House,’ said Mrs. Parker, looking at it through the back window with something like the fondness of regret. ‘And such a nice Garden—such an excellent Garden.’ ‘Yes, my Love, but that we may be said to carry with us. It supplies us, as before, with all the fruit and vegetables we want; and we have in fact all the comfort of an excellent Kitchen Garden, without the constant Eyesore of its formalities, or the yearly nuisance of its decaying vegetation. Who can endure a Cabbage Bed in October?’ ‘Oh! dear, yes. We are quite as well off for Gardenstuff as ever we were, for if it is forgot to be brought at any time, we can always buy what we want at Sanditon House. The Gardener there is glad enough to supply us.’ ‘But it was a nice place for the Children to run about in. So shady in Summer!’ ‘My dear, we shall have shade enough on the Hill and more than enough in the course of a very few years. The Growth of my Plantations is a general astonishment. In the meanwhile we have the Canvas Awning, which gives us the most complete comfort within doors, and you can get a Parasol at Whitby’s for little Mary at any time, or a large Bonnet at Jebb’s; and as for the Boys, I must say I would rather them run about in the Sunshine than not. I am sure we agree, my dear, in wishing our Boys to be as hardy as possible.’ ‘Yes, indeed, I am sure we do, and I will get Mary a little Parasol, which will make her as proud as can be. How grave she will walk about with it, and fancy herself quite a little Woman. Oh! I have not the smallest doubt of our being a great deal better off where we are now. If we any of us want to bathe, we have not a quarter of a mile to go. But you know’ (still looking back) ‘one loves to look at an old friend, at a place where one has been happy. The Hilliers did not seem to feel the Storms last Winter at all. I remember seeing Mrs. Hillier after one of those dreadful Nights, when we had been literally rocked in our bed, and she did not seem at all aware of the Wind being anything more than common.’ ‘Yes, yes, that’s likely enough. We have all the Grandeur of the Storm, with less real danger, because the Wind meeting with nothing to oppose or confine it around our House, simply rages and passes on; while down in this Gutter nothing is known of the state of the Air below the Tops of the Trees, and the Inhabitants may be taken totally unawares by one of those dreadful Currents which do more mischief in a Valley, when they do arise, than an open Country ever experiences in the heaviest Gale. But, my dear Love, as to Gardenstuff, you were saying that any accidental omission is supplied in a moment by Lady Denham’s Gardener; but it occurs to me that we ought to go elsewhere upon such occasions, and that old Stringer and his son have a higher claim. I encouraged him to set up, and am afraid he does not do very well—that is, there has not been time enough yet. He will do very well beyond a doubt, but at first it is Uphill work; and therefore we must give him what Help we can, and when any Vegetables or fruit happen to be wanted—and it will not be amiss to have them often wanted, to have something or other forgotten most days—just to have a nominal supply, you know, that poor old Andrew may not lose his daily Job, but in fact to buy the chief of our consumption of the Stringers.’ ‘Very well, my Love, that can be easily done, and Cook will be satisfied, which will be a great comfort, for she is always complaining of old Andrew now, and says he never brings her what she wants. There, now the old House is quite left behind. What is it, your Brother Sidney says about its being a Hospital?’ ‘Oh! my dear Mary, merely a joke of his. He pretends to advise me to make a Hospital of it. He pretends to laugh at my Improvements. Sidney says any thing, you know. He has always said what he chose of and to us all. Most Families have such a member among them, I believe, Miss Heywood. There is a someone in most families privileged by superior abilities or spirits to say any thing. In ours, it is Sidney, who is a very clever Young Man, and with great powers of pleasing. He lives too much in the World to be settled; that is his only fault. He is here and there and every where. I wish we may get him to Sanditon. I should like to have you acquainted with him. And it would be a fine thing for the Place! Such a young Man as Sidney, with his neat equipage and fashionable air—you and I, Mary, know what effect it might have. Many a respectable Family, many a careful Mother, many a pretty Daughter, might it secure us, to the prejudice of Eastbourne and Hastings.’ They were now approaching the Church and neat village of Sanditon, which stood at the foot of the Hill they were afterwards to ascend—a Hill whose side was covered with the Woods and enclosures of Sanditon House and whose Height ended in an open Down where the new Buildings might soon be looked for. A branch only of the Valley, winding more obliquely towards the Sea, gave a passage to an inconsiderable Stream, and formed at its mouth a third Habitable Division, in a small cluster of Fisherman’s Houses. The Village contained little more than Cottages, but the Spirit of the day had been caught, as Mr. Parker observed with delight to Charlotte, and two or three of the best of them were smartened up with a white Curtain and ‘Lodgings to let’; and farther on, in the little Green Court of an old Farm House, two Females in elegant white were actually to be seen with their books and camp stools, and in turning the corner of the Baker’s shop, the sound of a Harp might be heard through the upper Casement. Such sights and sounds were highly Blissful to Mr. Parker. Not that he had any personal concern in the success of the Village itself; for, considering it as too remote from the Beach, he had done nothing there; but it was a most valuable proof of the increasing fashion of the place altogether. If the Village could attract, the Hill might be nearly full. He anticipated an amazing Season. At the same time last year (late in July) there had not been a single Lodger in the Village!—nor did he remember any during the whole Summer, excepting one family of children who came from London for sea air after the hooping Cough, and whose Mother would not let them be nearer the shore for fear of their tumbling in. ‘Civilization, Civilization indeed!’ cried Mr. Parker, delighted. ‘Look, my dear Mary, look at William Heeley's windows. Blue Shoes, and nankin Boots! Who would have expected such a sight at a Shoemaker's in old Sanditon! This is new within the Month. There was no blue Shoe when we passed this way a month ago. Glorious indeed! Well, I think I have done something in my Day. Now, for our Hill, our health-breathing Hill.’ In ascending, they passed the Lodge-Gates of Sanditon House, and saw the top of the House itself among its Groves. It was the last Building of former Days in that line of the Parish. A little higher up, the Modern began; and in crossing the Down, a Prospect House, a Bellevue Cottage, and a Denham Place were to be looked at by Charlotte with the calmness of amused Curiosity, and by Mr. Parker with the eager eye which hoped to see scarcely any empty houses. More Bills at the Window than he had calculated on, and a smaller shew of company on the Hill, Fewer Carriages, fewer Walkers. He had fancied it just the time of day for them to be all returning from their Airings to dinner. But the Sands and the Terrace always attracted some; and the Tide must be flowing—about half-Tide now. He longed to be on the Sands, the Cliffs, at his own House, and everywhere out of his House at once. His Spirits rose with the very sight of the Sea and he could almost feel his Ankle getting stronger already. Trafalgar House, on the most elevated spot on the Down, was a light elegant Building, standing in a small Lawn with a very young plantation round it, about an hundred yards from the brow of a steep but not very lofty Cliff, and the nearest to it, of every Building, excepting one short row of smart-looking Houses, called the Terrace, with a broad walk in front, aspiring to be the Mall of the Place. In this row were the best Milliner’s shop and the Library—a little detached from it, the Hotel and Billiard Room. Here began the Descent to the Beach and to the Bathing Machines, and this was therefore the favourite spot for Beauty and Fashion. At Trafalgar House, rising at a little distance behind the Terrace, the Travellers were safely set down, and all was happiness and joy between Papa and Mamma and their children; while Charlotte, having received possession of her apartment, found amusement enough in standing at her ample Venetian window, and looking over the miscellaneous foreground of unfinished Buildings, waving Linen, and tops of Houses, to the Sea, dancing and sparkling in Sunshine and Freshness.

CHAPTER V

When they met before dinner, Mr. Parker was looking over Letters. ‘Not a Line from Sidney!’ said he. ‘He is an idle fellow. I sent him an account of my accident from Willingden, and thought he would have vouchsafed me an Answer. But perhaps it implies that he is coming himself. I trust it may. But here is a Letter from one of my Sisters. They never fail me. Women are the only Correspondents to be depended on. Now, Mary’ (smiling at his Wife), ‘before I open it, what shall we guess as to the state of health of those it comes from—or rather what would Sidney say if he were here? Sidney is a saucy fellow, Miss Heywood, and you must know, he will have it there is a good deal of Imagination in my two Sisters’ complaints, but it really is not so, or very little. They have wretched health, as you have heard us say frequently, and are subject to a variety of very serious Disorders. Indeed, I do not believe they know what a day’s health is; and at the same time, they are such excellent useful Women and have so much energy of Character that, where any Good is to be done, they force themselves on exertions which to those who do not thoroughly know them, have an extraordinary appearance. But there is really no affectation about them. They have only weaker constitutions and stronger minds than are often met with, either separate or together. And our Youngest Brother, who lives with them, and who is not much above 20, I am sorry to say, is almost as great an Invalid as themselves. He is so delicate that he can engage in no Profession. Sidney laughs at him; but it really is no joke, though Sidney often makes me laugh at them all in spite of myself. Now, if he were here, I know he would be offering odds that either Susan, Diana or Arthur would appear by this letter to have been at the point of death within the last month.’ Having run his eye over the Letter, he shook his head and began: ‘No chance of seeing them at Sanditon, I am sorry to say. A very indifferent account of them indeed. Seriously, a very indifferent account. Mary, you will be quite sorry to hear how ill they have been and are. Miss Heywood, if you will give me leave, I will read Diana’s Letter aloud. I like to have my friends acquainted with each other, and I am afraid this is the only sort of acquaintance I shall have the means of accomplishing between you. And I can have no scruple on Diana’s account, for her Letters shew her exactly as she is, the most active, friendly, warm-hearted Being in existence, and therefore must give a good impression.’ He read:

'My dear Tom,—We were all much grieved at your accident, and if you had not described yourself as fallen into such very good hands, I should have been with you at all hazards the day after the receipt of your Letter, though it found me suffering under a more severe attack than usual of my old grievance, Spasmodic Bile, and hardly able to crawl from my Bed to the Sofa. But how were you treated? Send me more Particulars in your next. If indeed a simple Sprain, as you denominate it, nothing would have been so judicious as Friction, Friction by the hand alone, supposing it could be applied instantly. Two years ago I happened to be calling on Mrs. Sheldon when her Coachman sprained his foot as he was cleaning the Carriage and could hardly limp into the House; but by the immediate use of Friction alone, steadily persevered in (and I rubbed his Ankle with my own hand for six Hours without Intermission), he was well in three days. Many Thanks, my dear Tom, for the kindness with respect to us, which had so large a share in bringing on your accident. But pray never run into Peril again, in looking for an Apothecary on our account, for had you the most experienced Man in his Line settled at Sanditon, it would be no recommendation to us. We have entirely done with the whole Medical Tribe. We have consulted Physician after Physician in vain, till we are quite convinced that they can do nothing for us and that we must trust to our own knowledge of our own wretched Constitutions for any relief. But if you think it advisable for the interest of the Place, to get a Medical Man there, I will undertake the commission with pleasure, and have no doubt of succeeding. I could soon put the necessary Irons in the fire. As for getting to Sanditon myself, it is quite an Impossibility. I grieve to say that I dare not attempt it, but my feelings tell me too plainly that in my present state, the Sea air would probably be the death of me. And neither of my dear Companions will leave me, or I would promote their going down to you for a fortnight. But in truth, I doubt whether Susan's nerves would be equal to the effort. She has been suffering much from the Headache and Six Leaches a day for ten days together relieved her so little that we thought it right to change our measures, and being convinced on examination that much of the Evil lay in her Gum, I persuaded her to attack the disorder there. She has accordingly had three Teeth drawn, and is decidedly better, but her Nerves are a good deal deranged. She can only speak in a whisper, and fainted away twice this morning on poor Arthur’s trying to suppress a cough. He, I am happy to say, is tolerably well, though more languid than I like, and I fear for his Liver. I have heard nothing of Sidney since your being together in Town, but conclude his scheme to the Isle of Wight has not taken place, or we should have seen him in his way. ‘Most sincerely do we wish you a good Season at Sanditon, and though we cannot contribute to your Beau Monde in person, we are doing our utmost to send you Company worth having; and think we may safely reckon on securing you two large Families, one a rich West Indian fiom Surrey, the other, a most respectable Girls’ Boarding School, or Academy, from Camberwell. I will not tell you how many People I have employed in the business—Wheel within wheel. But Success more than repays.—Yours most affectionately, etc.’

‘Well,’ said Mr. Parker, as he finished. ‘Though I dare say Sidney might find something extremely entertaining in this Letter and make us laugh for half an hour together I declare I, by myself, can see nothing in it but what is either very pitiable or very creditable. With all their sufferings, you perceive how much they are occupied in promoting the Good of others! So anxious for Sanditon! Two large Families—One, for Prospect House probably, the other, for No. 2 Denham Place, or the end house of the Terrace, and extra Beds at the Hotel. I told you my Sisters were excellent Women, Miss Heywood.’ 'And I am sure they must be very extraordinary ones,’ said Charlotte. 'I am astonished at the cheerful style of the Letter, considering the state in which both Sisters appear to be. Three Teeth drawn at once!—frightful! Your Sister Diana seems almost as ill as possible, but those 3 Teeth of your Sister Susan’s are more distressing than all the rest.’ ‘Oh! they are so used to the operation—to every operation—and have such Fortitude!’ ‘Your Sisters know what they are about, I dare say, but their Measures seem to touch on Extremes. I feel that in any illness, I should be so anxious for Professional advice, so very little venturesome for myself, or any body I loved! But then, we have been so healthy a family, that I can be no Judge of what the habit of self-doctoring may do.’ ‘Why, to own the truth,’ said Mrs. Parker, ‘I do think the Miss Parkers carry it too far sometimes, and so do you, my Love, you know. You often think they would be better, if they would leave themselves more alone, and especially Arthur. I know you think it a great pity they should give him such a turn for being ill.’ ‘Well, well, my dear Mary, I grant you, it is unfortunate for poor Arthur, that at his time of Life he should be encouraged to give way to Indisposition. It is bad; it is bad that he should be fancying himself too sickly for any Profession, and sit down at 1 and 20, on the interest of his own little Fortune, without any idea of attempting to improve it, or of engaging in any occupation that may be of use to himself or others. But let us talk of pleasanter things. These two large Families are just what we wanted. But here is something at hand, pleasanter still—Morgan, with his “Dinner on Table.”’

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CHAPTER VI

The Party were very soon moving after Dinner. Mr. Parker could not be satisfied without an early visit to the Library, and the Library Subscription book, and Charlotte was glad to see as much, and as quickly as possible, where all was new. They were out in the very quietest part of a Watering-place Day, when the important Business of Dinner or of sitting after Dinner was going on in almost every inhabited Lodging; here and there a solitary Elderly Man might be seen, who was forced to move early and walk for health; but in general, it was a thorough pause of Company, it was Emptiness and Tranquillity on the Terrace, the Cliffs, and the Sands. The Shops were deserted, the Straw Hats and pendant Lace seemed left to their fate both within the House and without, and Mrs. Whitby at the Library was sitting in her inner room, reading one of her own Novels, for want of Employment. The List of Subscribers was but commonplace. The Lady Denham, Miss Brereton, Mr. and Mrs. Parker, Sir Edward Denham and Miss Denham, whose names might be said to lead off the Season, were followed by nothing better than—Mrs. Mathews, Miss Mathews, Miss E. Mathews, Miss H. Mathews; Dr. and Mrs. Brown; Mr. Richard Pratt; Lieut. Smith, R.N.; Capt. Little, Limehouse; Mrs. Jane Fisher, Miss Fisher; Miss Scroggs; Rev. Mr. Hanking; Mr. Beard, Solicitor, Gray’s Inn; Mrs. Davis, and Miss Merryweather. Mr. Parker could not but feel that the List was not only without Distinction, but less numerous than he had hoped. It was but July, however, and August and September were the Months; And besides, the promised large Families from Surrey and Camberwell were an ever-ready consolation. Mrs. Whitby came forward without delay from her Literary recess, delighted to see Mr. Parker again, whose manners recommended him to every body, and they were fully occupied in their various Civilities and Communications, while Charlotte having added her name to the List as the first offering to the success of the Season, was busy in some immediate purchases for the further good of Every body, as soon as Miss Whitby could be hurried down from her Toilette, with all her glossy curls and smart Trinkets to wait on her. The Library, of course, afforded every thing; all the useless things in the World that could not be done without, and among so many pretty Temptations, and with so much good will for Mr. Parker to encourage Expenditure, Charlotte began to feel that she must check herself, or rather she reflected that at two and Twenty there could be no excuse for her doing otherwise—and that it would not do for her to be spending all her Money the very first Evening. She took up a Book; it happened to be a volume of Camilla. She had not Camilla’s Youth, and had no intention of having her Distress, so she turned from the Drawers of rings and Brooches, repressed farther solicitation and paid for what she bought. For her particular gratification, they were then to take a Turn on the Cliff, but as they quitted the Library they were met by two Ladies whose arrival made an alteration necessary, Lady Denham and Miss Brereton. They had been to Trafalgar House, and been directed thence to the Library, and though Lady Denham was a great deal too active to regard the walk of a mile as any thing requiring rest, and talked of going home again directly, the Parkers knew that to be pressed into their House, and obliged to take her Tea with them, would suit her best, and therefore the stroll on the Cliff gave way to an immediate return home. ‘No, no,’ said her Ladyship, ‘I will not have you hurry your Tea on my account. I know you like your Tea late. My early hours are not to put my Neighbours to inconvenience. No, no, Miss Clara and I will get back to our own Tea. We came out with no other Thought. We wanted just to see you and make sure of your being really come, but we get back to our own Tea.’ She went on however towards Trafalgar House and took possession of the Drawing-room very quietly, without seeming to hear a word of Mrs. Parker’s orders to the Servant as they entered, to bring Tea directly. Charlotte was fully consoled for the loss of her walk, by finding herself in company with those, whom the conversation of the morning had given her a great curiosity to see. She observed them well. Lady Denham was of middle height, stout, upright and alert in her motions, with a shrewd eye, and self-satisfied air, but not an unagreeable Countenance, and though her manner was rather downright and abrupt, as of a person who valued herself on being free-spoken, there was a good humour and cordiality about her, a civility and readiness to be acquainted with Charlotte herself, and a heartiness of welcome towards her old friends, which was inspiring the Good will she seemed to feel. And as for Miss Brereton, her appearance so completely justified Mr. Parker’s praise that Charlotte thought she had never beheld a more lovely, or more Interesting young Woman. Elegantly tall, regularly handsome, with great delicacy of complexion and soft Blue eyes, a sweetly modest and yet naturally graceful Address, Charlotte could see in her only the most perfect representation of whatever Heroine might be most beautiful and bewitching, in all the numerous volumes they had left behind them on Mrs. Whitby's shelves. Perhaps it might be partly owing to her having just issued from a Circulating Library, but she could not separate the idea of a complete Heroine from Clara Brereton. Her situation with Lady Denham so very much in favour of it! She seemed placed with her on purpose to be ill-used. Such Poverty and Dependance joined to such Beauty and Merit, seemed to leave no choice in the business. These feelings were not the result of any spirit of Romance in Charlotte herself. No, she was a very sober-minded young Lady, sufficiently well-read in Novels to supply her Imagination with amusement, but not at all unreasonably influenced by them; and while she pleased herself the first 5 minutes with fancying the Persecutions which ought to be the Lot of the interesting Clara, especially in the form of the most barbarous conduct on Lady Denham’s side, she found no reluctance to admit from subsequent observation, that they appeared to be on very comfortable Terms. She could see nothing worse in Lady Denham, than the sort of oldfashioned formality of always calling her Miss Clara, nor anything objectionable in the degree of observance and attention which Clara paid. On one side it seemed protecting kindness, on the other grateful and affectionate respect. The Conversation turned entirely upon Sanditon, its present number of Visitants and the Chances of a good Season. It was evident that Lady Denham had more anxiety, more fears of loss, than her Coadjutor. She wanted to have the Place fill faster, and seemed to have many harassing apprehensions of the Lodgings being in some instances underlet. Miss Diana Parker’s two large Families were not forgotten. ‘Very good, very good,’ said her Ladyship. ‘A West Indy Family and a school. That sounds well. That will bring Money.’ ‘No people spend more freely, I believe, than West Indians,’ observed Mr. Parker. ‘Aye, so I have heard, and because they have full Purses, fancy themselves equal, may be, to your old Country Families. But then, they who scatter their Money so freely, never think of whether they may not be doing mischief by raising the price of Things. And I have heard that’s very much the case with your West-Injines, and if they come among us to raise the price of our necessaries of Life, we shall not much thank them, Mr. Parker.’ ‘My dear Madam, they can only raise the price of consumeable Articles, by such an extraordinary Demand for them and such a diffusion of Money among us, as must do us more Good than harm. Our Butchers and Bakers and Traders in general cannot get rich without bringing Prosperity to us. If they do not gain, our rents must be insecure, and in proportion to their profit must be ours eventually in the increased value of our Houses.’ 'Oh! well. But I should not like to have Butcher’s meat raised, though, and I shall keep it down as long as I can. Aye, that young Lady smiles I see; I dare say she thinks me an odd sort of a Creature, but she will come to care about such matters herself in time. Yes, yes, my Dear, depend upon it, you will be thinking of the price of Butcher’s meat in time, though you may not happen to have quite such a Servants’ Hall full to feed, as I have. And I do believe those are best off that have fewest Servants. I am not a Woman of Parade, as all the World knows, and if it was not for what I owe to poor Mr. Hollis’s memory, I should never keep up Sanditon House as I do; it is not for my own pleasure, Well, Mr. Parker, and the other is a Boarding school, a French Boarding School, is it? No harm in that. They’ll stay their six weeks. And out of such a number, who knows but some may be consumptive and want Asses’ milk, and I have two Milch asses at this present time. But perhaps the little Misses may hurt the Furniture. I hope they will have a good sharp Governess to look after them.’ Poor Mr. Parker got no more credit from Lady Denham than he had from his Sisters, for the Object which had taken him to Willingden. ‘Lordl my dear Sir,’ she cried, ‘how could you think of such a thing? I am very sorry you met with your accident, but upon my word you deserved it. Going after a Doctor! Why, what should we do with a Doctor here? It would be only encouraging our Servants and the Poor to fancy themselves ill, if there was a Doctor at hand. Oh! pray, let us have none of the Tribe at Sanditon. We go on very well as we are. There is the Sea and the Downs and my Milch-asses, and I have told Mrs Whitby that if any body enquires for a Chamber-House, they may be supplied at a fair rate (poor Mr. Hollis’s Chamber-House, as good as new), and what can People want for more? Here have I lived 70 good years in the world and never took Physic above twice, and never saw the face of a Doctor in all my Life, on my own account. And I verily believe if my poor dear Sir Harry had never seen one neither, he would have been alive now. Ten fees, one after another, did the Man take who sent him out of the World. I beseech you, Mr. Parker, no Doctors here.’ The Tea things were brought in. ‘Oh! my dear Mrs. Parker, you should not indeed. Why would you do so? I was just upon the point of wishing you good Evening. But since you are so very neighbourly, I believe Miss Clara and I must stay.’

CHAPTER VII

The popularity of the Parkers brought them some visitors the very next morning; amongst them, Sir Edward Denham and his Sister, who having been at Sanditon House, drove on to pay their Compliments; and the duty of Letter-writing being accomplished, Charlotte was settled with Mrs. Parker in the Drawing-room in time to see them all. The Denhams were the only ones to excite particular attention. Charlotte was glad to complete her knowledge of the family by an introduction to them, and found them, the better half at least (for while single, the Gentleman may sometimes thought the better half, of the pair), not unworthy notice. Miss Denham was a fine young woman, but cold and reserved, giving the idea of one who felt her consequence with Pride and her Poverty with Discontent, and who was immediately gnawed by the want of an handsomer Equipage than the simple Gig in which they travelled, and which their Groom was leading about still in her sight. Sir Edward was much her superior in air and manner; certainly handsome, but yet more to be remarked for his very good address and wish of paying attention and giving pleasure. He came into the room remarkably well, talked much—and very much to Charlotte, by whom he chanced to be placed—and she soon perceived that he had a fine Countenance, a most pleasing gentleness of Voice, and a great deal of Conversation. She liked him. Sober-mind¢d as she was, she thought him agreeable, and did not quarrel with the suspicion of his finding her equally so, which would arise from his evidently disregarding his Sister's motion to go, and persisting in his station and his discourse. I make no apologies for my Heroine’s vanity. If there are young Ladies in the World at her time of Life, more dull of Fancy and more careless of pleasing, I know them not, and never wish to know them. At last, from the low French window; of the Drawing-room which commanded the road and all the Paths across the Down, Charlotte and Sir Edward, as they sat, could not but observe Lady Denham and Miss Brereton walking by, and there was instantly a slight change in Sir Edward’s countenance, with an anxious glance alter them as they proceeded, followed by an early proposal to his Sister, not merely for moving, but for walking on together to the Terrace, which altogether gave an hasty turn to Charlotte’s fancy, cured her of her half-hour’s fever, and placed her in a more capable state of judging, when Sir Edward was gone, of how agreeable he had actually been. ‘Perhaps there was a good deal in his Air and Address; and his Title did him no harm.’ She was very soon in his company again. The first object of the Parkers, when their House was cleared of morning visitors, was to get out themselves; the Terrace was the attraction to all. Every body who walked, must begin with the Terrace, and there, seated on one of the two Green Benches by the Gravel walk, they found the united Denham Party; but though united in the Gross, very distinctly divided again, the two superior Ladies being at one end of the bench, and Sir Edward and Miss Brereton at the other. Charlotte’s first glance told her that Sir Edward’s air was that of a Lover. There could be no doubt of his Devotion to Clara. How Clara received it, was less obvious, but she was inclined to think not very favourably; for though sitting thus apart with him (which probably she might not have been able to prevent) her air was calm and grave. That the young Lady at the other end of the Bench was doing Penance, was indubitable. The difference in Miss Denham's countenance, the change from Miss Denham sitting in cold Grandeur in Mrs. Parker’s Drawing-room to be kept from silence by the efforts of others, to Miss Denham at Lady Denham’s Elbow, listening and talking with smiling attention or solicitous eagerness, was very striking and very amusing, or very melancholy, just as Satire or Morality might prevail. Miss Denham's Character was pretty well decided with Charlotte. Sir Edward’s required longer Observation. He surprised her by quitting Clara immediately on their all joining and agreeing to walk, and by addressing his attentions entirely to herself. Stationing himself close by her, he seemed to mean to detach her as much as possible from the rest of the Party and to give her the whole of his Conversation. He began, in a tone of great Taste and Feeling, to talk of the Sea and the Seashore, and ran with Energy through all the usual Phrases employed in praise of their Sublimity, and descriptive of the undescribable Emotions they excite in the Mind of Sensibility. The terrific Grandeur of the Ocean in a Storm, its glassy surface in a calm, its Gulls and its Samphire, and the deep fathoms of its Abysses, its quick vicissitudes, its direful Deceptions, its Mariners tempting it in Sunshine and overwhelmed by the sudden Tempest—all were eagerly and fluently touched; rather commonplace perhaps, but doing very well from the Lips of a handsome Sir Edward, and she could not but think him a Man of Feeling, till he began to stagger her by the number of his Quotations, and the bewilderment of some of his sentences. ‘Do you remember,’ said he, ‘Scott’s beautiful Lines on the Sea! Oh! what a description they convey! They are never out of my Thoughts when I walk here. That Man who can read them unmoved must have the nerves of an Assassin! Heaven defend me from meeting such a Man un-armed.’ ‘What description do you mean?’ said Charlotte. ‘I remember none at this moment, of the Sea, in either of Scott's Poems.’ 'Do not you indeed? Nor can I exactly recall the beginning at this moment. But—you cannot have forgotten his description of Woman—

“Oh! Woman in our Hours of Ease——”

Delicious! Delicious! Had he written nothing more, he would have been Immortal. And then again, that unequalled, unrivalled address to Parental affection—

“Some feelings are to Mortals given

With less of Earth in them than Heaven,” &c.

But while we are on the subject of Poetry, what think you, Miss Heywood, of Burns’s Lines to his Mary? Oh! there is Pathos to madden one! If ever there was a Man who felt, it was Burns. Montgomery has all the Fire of Poetry, Wordsworth has the true soul of it, Campbell in his Pleasures of Hope has touched the extreme of our Sensations—“Like Angels’ visits, few and far between.” Can you conceive any thing more subduing, more melting, more fraught with the deep Sublime than that Line? But Burns—I confess my sense of his Pre-eminence, Miss Heywood. If Scott has a fault, it is the want of Passion. Tender, Elegant, Descriptive—but Tame. The Man who cannot do justice to the attributes of Woman is my contempt. Sometimes indeed a flash of feeling seems to irradiate him, as in the Lines we were speaking of—“Oh! Woman in our Hours of Ease.” But Burns is always on fire. His Soul was the Altar in which lovely Woman sat enshrined, his Spirit truly breathed the immortal Incense which is her Due.’ ‘I have read several of Burns’s Poems with great delight,’ said Charlotte as soon as she had time to speak, ‘but I am not poetic enough to separate a Man’s Poetry entirely from his Character; and poor Burns’s known Irregularities greatly interrupt my enjoyment of his Lines. I have difficulty in depending on the Truth of his Feelings as a Lover. I have not faith in the sincerity of the affections of a Man of his Description. He felt and he wrote and he forgot.’ ‘Oh! no, no,’ exclaimed Sir Edward in an extasy. ‘He was all ardour and Truth! His Genius and his Susceptibilities might lead him into some Aberrations. But who is perfect? It were Hyper-criticism, it were Pseudo-philosophy to expect from the soul of high toned Genius, the grovellings of a common mind. The Coruscations of Talent, elicited by impassioned feeling in the breast of Man, are perhaps incompatible with some of the prosaic Decencies of Life; nor can you, loveliest Miss Heywood’ (speaking with an air of deep sentiment), ‘nor can any Woman be a fair judge of what a Man may be propelled to say, write or do, by the sovereign impulses of illimitable Ardour.’ This was very fine; but if Charlotte understood it at all, not very moral, and being moreover by no means pleased with his extraordinary style of compliment, she gravely answered: ‘I really know nothing of the matter. This is a charming day. The Wind I fancy must be Southerly.’ ‘Happy, happy Wind, to engage Miss Heywood’s Thoughts!’ She began to think him downright silly. His choosing to walk with her, she had learnt to understand. It was done to pique Miss Brereton. She had read it, in an anxious glance or two on his side, but why he should talk so much Nonsense, unless he could do no better, was unintelligible. He seemed very sentimental, very full of some Feelings or other, and very much addicted to all the newest-fashioned hard words, had not a very clear Brain she presumed, and talked a good deal by rote. The Future might explain him further; but when there was a proposition for going into the Library she felt that she had had quite enough of Sir Edward for one morning, and very gladly accepted Lady Denham's invitation of remaining on the Terrace with her. The others all left them, Sir Edward with looks of very gallant despair in tearing himself away, and they united their agreeableness—that is, Lady Denham like a true great Lady, talked and talked only of her own concerns, and Charlotte listened, amused in considering the contrast between her two companions. Certainly, there was no strain of doubtful Sentiment, nor any phrase of difficult interpretation in Lady Denham’s discourse. Taking hold of Charlotte’s arm with the ease of one who felt that any notice from her was an Honour, and communicative, from the influence of the same conscious Importance or a natural love of talking, she immediately said in a tone of great satisfaction, and with a look of arch sagacity: ‘Miss Esther wants me to invite her and her Brother to spend a week with me at Sanditon House, as I did last Summer. But I shan’t. She has been trying to get round me every way, with her praise of this, and her praise of that; but I saw what she was about. I saw through it all. I am not very easily taken-in, my Dear.’ Charlotte could think of nothing more harmless to be said, than the simple enquiry of—‘Sir Edward and Miss Denham?’ ‘Yes, my Dear. My young Folks, as I call them sometimes, for I take them very much by the hand. I had them with me last Summer about this time, for a week; from Monday to Monday; and very delighted and thankful they were. For they are very good young People, my Dear. I would not have you think that I only notice them, for poor dear Sir Harry’s sake. No, no; they are very deserving themselves, or trust me, they would not be so much in my Company. I am not the Woman to help any body blindfold. I always take care to know what I am about and who I have to deal with, before I stir a finger. I do not think I was ever over-reached in my Life; and that is a good deal for a Woman to say that has been married twice. Poor dear Sir Harry (between ourselves) thought at first to have got more. But’ (with a bit of a sigh) ‘he is gone, and we must not find fault with the Dead. Nobody could live happier together than us; and he was a very honourable Man, quite the Gentleman of ancient Family. And when he died, I gave Sir Edward his Gold Watch.’ She said this with a look at her Companion which implied its right to produce a great Impression, and seeing no rapturous astonishment in Charlotte’s countenance, added quickly: ‘He did not bequeath it to his Nephew, my dear. It was no bequest. It was not in the Will. He only told me, and that but once, that he should wish his Nephew to have his Watch; but it need not have been binding, if I had not chose it.’ ‘Very kind indeed! very Handsome!’ said Charlotte, absolutely forced to affect admiration. ‘Yes, my Dear, and it is not the only kind thing I have done by him. I have been a very liberal friend to Sir Edward. And poor young Man, he needs it bad enough. For though I am only the Dowager, my Dear, and he is the Heir, things do not stand between us in the way they commonly do between those two parties. Not a shilling do I receive from the Denham Estate. Sir Edward has no Payments to make me. He don’t stand uppermost, believe me. It is I that help him.’ ‘Indeed! He is a very fine young Man; particularly Elegant in his Address.’ This was said chiefly for the sake of saying something; but Charlotte directly saw that it was laying her open to suspicion by Lady Denham’s giving a shrewd glance at her and replying: ‘Yes, yes, he is very well to look at, and it is to be hoped some Lady of large fortune will think so, for Sir Edward must marry for Money. He and I often talk that matter over. A handsome young fellow like him, will go smirking and smiling about and paying girls compliments, but he knows he must marry for Money. And Sir Edward is a very steady young Man in the main, and has got very good notions.’ ‘Sir Edward Denham,’ said Charlotte, ‘with such personal Advantages may be almost sure of getting a Woman of fortune, if he chooses it.’ This glorious sentiment seemed quite to remove suspicion. ‘Aye, my Dear, that’s very sensibly said,’ cried Lady Denham. ‘And if we could but get a young Heiress to Sanditon! But Heiresses are monstrous scarce! I do not think we have had an Heiress here, or even a Co, since Sanditon has been a public place. Families come after Families, but as far as I can learn, it is not one in an hundred of them that have any real Property, Landed or Funded. An Income perhaps, but no Property. Clergymen may be, or Lawyers from Town, or Half pay officers, or Widows with only a

Austen Sanditon and other miscellanea.djvu

A YOUNG WHITBY RUNNING OFF WITH FIVE VOLUMES

UNDER HIS ARM (See p. 51)

Jointure. And what good can such people do anybody?—except just as they take our empty Houses, and (between ourselves) I think they are great fools for not staying at home. Now, if we could get a young Heiress to be sent here for her health (and if she was ordered to drink asses’ milk I could supply her), and as soon as she got well, have her fall in love with Sir Edward!’ ‘That would be very fortunate indeed.’ ‘And Miss Esther must marry somebody of fortune too. She must get a rich Husband. Ah! young Ladies that have no Money are very much to be pitied!—But' (after a short pause) ‘if Miss Esther thinks to talk me into inviting them to come and stay at Sanditon House, she will find herself mistaken. Matters are altered with me since last Summer, you know. I have Miss Clara with me now, which makes a great difference.’ She spoke this so seriously that Charlotte instantly saw in it the evidence of real penetration and prepared for some fuller remarks; but it was followed only by—‘I have no fancy for having my House as full as an Hotel. I should not choose to have my two Housemaids’ Time taken up all the morning, in dusting out Bed rooms, They have Miss Clara’s room to put to rights as well as my own every day. If they had hard Places, they would want Higher Wages.’ For objections of this Nature, Charlotte was not prepared, and she found it so impossible even to affect sympathy, that she could say nothing. Lady Denham soon added, with great glee: ‘And besides all this, my Dear, am I to be filling my House to the prejudice of Sanditon? If People Want to be by the Sea, why don’t they take Lodgings? Here are a great many empty Houses—three on this very Terrace; no fewer than three Lodging Papers staring me in the face at this very moment, Numbers 3, 4 and 8. 8, the Corner House may be too large for them, but either of the two others are nice little snug Houses, very fit for a young Gentleman and his sister. And so, my dear, the next time Miss Esther begins talking about the Dampness of Denham Park, and the Good Bathing always does her, I shall advise them to come and take one of these Lodgings for a fortnight. Don’t you think that will be very fair? Charity begins at home, you know.’ Charlotte’s feelings were divided between amusement and indignation; but indignation had the larger and the increasing share. She kept her Countenance and she kept a civil Silence. She could not carry her forbearance farther; but without attempting to listen longer, and only conscious that Lady Denham was still talking on in the same way, allowed her Thoughts to form themselves into such a Meditation as this. ‘She is thoroughly mean. I had not expected any thing so bad. Mr. Parker spoke too mildly of her. His Judgement is evidently not to be trusted. His own Good-nature misleads him. He is too kind hearted to see clearly. I must judge for myself. And their very connection prejudices him. He has persuaded her to engage in the same Speculation, and because their object in that Line is the same, he fancies she feels like him in others. But she is very, very mean. I can see no Good in her. Poor Miss Brereton! And she makes every body mean about her. This poor Sir Edward and his Sister, how far Nature meant them to be respectable I cannot tell, but they are obliged to be Mean in their Servility to her. And I am Mean too, in giving her my attention, with the appearance of coinciding with her. Thus it is, when Rich People are Sordid.’

CHAPTER VIII

The two Ladies continued walking together till rejoined by the others, who as they issued from the Library were followed by a young Whitby running off with five volumes under his arm to Sir Edward’s Gig, and Sir Edward, approaching Charlotte, said: ‘You may perceive what has been our Occupation. My Sister wanted my Counsel in the selection of some books. We have many leisure hours, and read a great deal. I am no indiscriminate Novel-Reader. The mere Trash of the common Circulating Library, I hold in the highest contempt. You will never hear me advocating those puerile Emanations which detail nothing but discordant Principles incapable of Amalgamation, or those vapid tissues of ordinary Occurrences from which no useful Deductions can be drawn. In vain may we put them into a literary Alembic; we distil nothing which can add to Science. You understand me, I am sure?’ ‘I am not quite certain that I do. But if you will describe the sort of Novels which you do approve, I dare say it will give me a clearer idea.’ ‘Most willingly, Fair Questioner. The Novels which I approve are such as display Human Nature with Grandeur, such as shew her in the Sublimities of intense Feeling, such as exhibit the progress of strong Passion from the first Germ of incipient Susceptibility to the utmost Energies of Reason half-dethroned, where we see the strong spark of Woman’s Captivations elicit such Fire in the Soul of Man as leads him (though at the risk of some Aberration from the strict line of Primitive Obligations) to hazard all, dare all, achieve all, to obtain her. Such are the Works which I peruse with delight, and I hope I may say, with amelioration. They hold forth the most splendid Portraitures of high Conceptions, Unbounded Views, illimitable Ardour, indomitable Decision; and even when the Event is mainly anti-prosperous to the high-toned Machinations of the prime Character, the potent, pervading Hero of the Story, it leaves us full of Generous Emotions for him;—our Hearts are paralysed. 'Twere Pseudo-Philosophy to assert that we do not feel more enwrapped by the brilliancy of his Career, than by the tranquil and morbid Virtues of any opposing Character. Our approbation of the Latter is but Eleemosynary. These are the Novels which enlarge the primitive Capabilities of the Heart, and which it cannot impugn the Sense or be any Dereliction of the character, of the most anti-puerile Man, to be conversant with.’ ‘If I understand you aright,’ said Charlotte, ‘our taste in Novels is not at all the same.’ And here they were obliged to part, Miss Denham being too much tired of them all, to stay any longer. The truth was that Sir Edward, whom circumstances had confined very much to one spot, had read more sentimental Novels than agreed with him. His fancy had been early caught by all the impassioned, and most exceptionable parts of Richardson’s; and such Authors as have since appeared to tread in Richardson’s steps, so far as Man’s determined pursuit of Woman in defiance of every opposition of feeling and convenience is concerned, had since occupied the greater part of his literary hours, and formed his Character. With a perversity of judgement, which must be attributed to his not having by Nature a very strong head, the Graces, the Spirit, the Sagacity, and the Perseverance, of the Villain of the Story outweighed all his absurdities and all his Atrocities with Sir Edward. With him, such Conduct was Genius, Fire and Feeling. It interested and inflamed him; and he was always more anxious for its Success and mourned over its Discomfitures with more Tenderness than could ever have been contemplated by the Authors. Though he owed many of his ideas to this sort of reading, it were unjust to say that he read nothing else, or that his Language were not formed on a more general Knowledge of modern Literature. He read all the Essays, Letters, Tours and Criticisms of the day, and with the same ill-luck which made him derive only false Principles from Lessons of Morality, and incentives to Vice from the History of its Overthrow, he gathered only hard words and involved sentences from the style of our most approved Writers.

Sir Edward’s great object in life was to be seductive. With such personal advantages as he knew himself to possess, and such Talents as he did also give himself credit for, he regarded it as his Duty. He felt that he was formed to be a dangerous Man, quite in the line of the Lovelaces. The very name of Sir Edward, he thought, carried some degree of fascination with it. To be generally gallant and assiduous about the fair, to make fine speeches to every pretty Girl, was but the inferior part of the Character he had to play. Miss Heywood, or any other young Woman with any pretensions to Beauty, he was entitled (according to his own views of Society) to approach with high Compliment and Rhapsody on the slightest acquaintance; but it was Clara alone on whom he had serious designs; it was Clara whom he meant to seduce. Her seduction was quite determined on. Her Situation in every way called for it. She was his rival in Lady Denham’s favour, she was young, lovely and dependant. He had very early seen the necessity of the case, and had now been long trying with cautious assiduity to make an impression on her heart, and to undermine her Principles. Clara saw through him, and had not the least intention of being seduced; but she bore with him patiently enough to confirm the sort of attachment which her personal Charms had raised. A greater degree of discouragement indeed would not have affected Sir Edward. He was armed against the highest pitch of Disdain or Aversion. If she could not be won by affection, he must carry her off. He knew his Business. Already had he had many Musings on the Subject. If he were constrained so to act he must naturally wish to strike out something new, to exceed those who had gone before him, and he felt a strong curiosity to ascertain whether the Neighbourhood of Timbuctoo might not afford some solitary House adapted for Clara's reception; but the Expense, alas! of Measures in that masterly style was ill-suited to his Purse, and Prudence obliged him to prefer the quietest sort of ruin and disgrace for the object of his Affections, to the more renowned.

CHAPTER IX

One day, soon after Charlotte’s arrival at Sanditon, she had the pleasure of seeing, just as she ascended from the Sands to the Ten-ace, a Gentleman’s Carriage with Post Horses standing at the door of the Hotel, as very lately arrived, and by the quantity of Luggage taking off; bringing, it might be hoped, some respectable family determined on a long residence. Delighted to have such good news for Mr. and Mrs. Parker, who had both gone home some time before, she proceeded for Trafalgar House with as much alacrity as could remain, after having been contending for the last 2 hours with a very fine wind blowing directly on shore; but she had not reached the little Lawn, when she saw a Lady walking nimbly behind her at no great distance; and convinced that it could be no acquaintance of her own, she resolved to hurry on and get into the House if possible before her. But the Stranger's pace did not allow this to be accomplished; Charlotte was on the steps and had rung, but the door was not opened, when the other crossed the Lawn; and when the Servant appeared, they were just equally ready for entering the House. The ease of the Lady, her ‘How do you do, Morgan?’ and Morgan’s Looks on seeing her, were a moment’s astonishment; but another moment brought Mr. Parker into the Hall to welcome the Sister he had seen from the Drawing-room, and she was soon introduced to Miss Diana Parker. There was a great deal of surprise but still more pleasure in seeing her. Nothing could be kinder than her reception from both Husband and Wife. ‘How did she come! and with whom? And they were so glad to find her equal to the Journey! And that she was to belong to them, was a thing of course.’ Miss Diana Parker was about thirty-four, of middling height and slender; delicate looking rather than sickly; with an agreeable face, and a very animated eye; her manners resembling her Brother’s in their ease and frankness, though with more decision and less mildness in her Tone. She began an account of herself without delay, Thanking them for their Invitation, but ‘that was quite out of the question, for they were all three come, and meant to get into Lodgings and make some stay.’ ‘All three come! What! Susan and Arthur! Susan able to come too! This was better and better.’ ‘Yes, we are actually all come. Quite unavoidable. Nothing else to be done. You shall hear all about it. But, my dear Mary, send for the Children; I long to see them.’ ‘And how has Susan borne the Journey? and how is Arthur? and why do not we see him here with you?’ ‘Susan has borne it wonderfully. She had not a wink of sleep either the night before we set out, or last night at Chichester, and as this is not so common with her as with me, I have had a thousand fears for her; but she has kept up wonderfully, had no Hysterics of consequence till we came within sight of poor old Sanditon, and the attack was not very violent—nearly over by the time we reached your Hotel—so that we got her out of the Carriage extremely well, with only Mr. Woodcock’s assistance, and when I left her she was directing the Disposal of the Luggage, and helping old Sam uncord the Trunks. She desired her best Love, with a thousand regrets at being so poor a Creature that she could not come with me. And as for poor Arthur, he would not have been unwilling himself, but there is so much Wind that I did not think he could safely venture, for I am sure there is Lumbago hanging about him, and so I helped him on with his great Coat and sent him off to the Terrace, to take us Lodgings. Miss Heywood must have seen our Carriage standing at the Hotel. I knew Miss Heywood the moment I saw her before me on the Down. My dear Tom, I am glad to see you walk so well. Let me feel your Ankle. That’s right; all right and clean. The play of your Sinews a very little affected—barely perceptible. Well, now for the explanation of my being here. I told you in my Letter, of the two considerable Families I was hoping to secure for you—the West Indians, and the Seminary.’ Here Mr. Parker drew his Chair still nearer to his Sister, and took her hand again most affectionately as he answered: ‘Yes, Yes; How active and how kind you have been!’ ‘The West Indians,’ she continued, ‘whom I look upon as the most desirable of the two—as the Best of the Good—prove to be a Mrs. Griffiths and her family. I know them only through others. You must have heard me mention Miss Capper, the particular friend of my very particular friend Fanny Noyce; now, Miss Capper is extremely intimate with a Mrs. Darling, who is on terms of constant correspondence with Mrs. Griffiths herself Only a short chain, you see, between us, and not a Link wanting. Mrs. Griffiths meant to go to the Sea, for her Young People's benefit, had fixed on the coast of Sussex, but was undecided as to the where, wanted something Private, and wrote to ask the opinion of her friend Mrs. Darling. Miss Capper happened to be staying with Mrs. Darling when Mrs. Griffiths’s Letter arrived, and was consulted on the question; she wrote the same day to Fanny Noyce and mentioned it to her, and Fanny, all alive for us, instantly took up her pen and forwarded the circumstance to me, except as to Names, which have but lately transpired. There was but one thing for me to do. I answered Fanny’s Letter by the same Post and pressed for the recommendation of Sanditon. Fanny had feared your having no house large enough to receive such a Family. But I seem to be spinning out my story to an endless length. You see how it was all managed. I had the pleasure of hearing soon afterwards by the same simple link of connection that Sanditon had been recommended by Mrs. Darling, and that the West Indians were very much disposed to go thither. This was the state of the case when I wrote to you; but two days ago—yes, the day before yesterday—I heard again from Fanny Noyce, saying that she had heard from Miss Capper, who by a Letter from Mrs. Darling understood that Mrs. Griffiths has expressed herself in a letter to Mrs. Darling more doubtingly on the subject of Sanditon. Am I clear? I would be anything rather than not clear.’ ‘Oh! perfectly, perfectly. Well?’ ‘The reason of this hesitation, was her having no connections in the place, and no means of ascertaining that she should have good accommodations on arriving there; and she was particularly careful and scrupulous on all those matters more on account of a certain Miss Lambe, a young Lady (probably a Niece) under her care, than on her own account or her Daughters’. Miss Lambe has an immense fortune—richer than all the rest—and very delicate health. One sees clearly enough by all this, the sort of Woman Mrs. Griffiths must be—as helpless and indolent as Wealth and a Hot Climate are apt to make us. But we are not all born to equal Energy. What was to be done? I had a few moments’ indecision. Whether to offer to write to you, or to Mrs. Whitby to secure them a House? But neither pleased me. I hate to employ others, when I am equal to act myself, and my conscience told me that this was an occasion which called for me. Here was a family of helpless Invalids whom I might essentially serve. I sounded Susan—the same Thought had occurred to her. Arthur made no difficulties, our plan was arranged immediately, we were off yesterday morning at six, left Chichester at the same hour today—and here we are.’ 'Excellent!—Excellent!’ cried Mr. Parker. ‘Diana, you are unequal’d in serving your friends and doing Good to all the World. I know nobody like you. Mary, my Love, is not she a wonderful Creature? Well, and now, what House do you design to engage for them? What is the size of their family?’ ‘I do not at all know,’ replied his Sister, ‘have not the least idea; never heard any particulars; but I am very sure that the largest house at Sanditon cannot be too large. They are more likely to want a second. I shall take only one however, and that, but for a week certain. Miss Heywood, I astonish you. You hardly know what to make of me. I see by your Looks, that you are not used to such quick measures.’ The words ‘Unaccountable Officiousness! Activity run mad!’ had just passed through Charlotte’s mind, but a civil answer was easy. ‘I dare say I do look surprised,’ said she, ‘because these are very great exertions, and I know what Invalids both you and your Sister are.’ ‘Invalids indeed. I trust there are not three People in England who have so sad a right to that appellation! But, my dear Miss Heywood, we are sent into this World to be as extensively useful as possible, and where some degree of Strength of Mind is given, it is not a feeble body which will excuse us, or incline us to excuse ourselves. The World is pretty much divided between the Weak of Mind and the Strong, between those who can act and those who can not, and it is the bounden Duty of the Capable to let no opportunity of being useful escape them. My Sister’s Complaints and mine are happily not often of a Nature to threaten Existence immediately, and as long as we can exert ourselves to be of use to others, I am convinced that the Body is the better for the refreshment the Mind receives in doing its Duty. While I have been travelling, with this object in view, I have been perfectly well.’ The entrance of the Children ended this little panegyric on her own Disposition, and after having noticed and caressed them all, she prepared to go. ‘Cannot you dine with us? Is not it possible to prevail on you to dine with us?’ was then the cry; and that being absolutely negatived, it was ‘And when shall we see you again? and how can we be of use to you?’ And Mr. Parker warmly offered his assistance in taking the house for Mrs. Griffiths. ‘I will come to you the moment I have dined,’ said he, ‘and we will go about together.’ But this was immediately declined. ‘No, my dear Tom, upon no account in the World, shall you stir a step on any business of mine. Your Ankle wants rest. I see by the position of your foot, that you have used it too much already. No, I shall go about my House-taking directly. Our Dinner is not ordered till six, and by that time I hope to have completed it. It is now only 1⁄2 past 4. As to seeing me again to-day, I cannot answer for it; the others will be at the Hotel all the Evening, and delighted to see you at any time, but as soon as I get back I shall hear what Arthur has done about our own Lodgings, and probably the moment Dinner is over, shall be out again on business relative to them, for we hope to get into some Lodgings or other and be settled after breakfast to-morrow. I have not much confidence in poor Arthur’s skill for Lodging-taking, but he seemed to like the commission.’ ‘I think you are doing too much,’ said Mr. Parker. ‘You will knock yourself up. You should not move again after Dinner.’ ‘No, indeed you should not,’ cried his wife, ‘for Dinner is such a mere name with you all, that it can do you no good. I know what your appetites are.’ ‘My appetite is very much mended, I assure you, lately. I have been taking some Bitters of my own decocting, which have done wonders. Susan never eats, I grant you, and just at present I shall want nothing; I never eat for about a week after a Journey, but as for Arthur, he is only too much disposed for Food. We are often obliged to check him.’ ‘But you have not told me any thing of the other Family coming to Sanditon,’ said Mr. Parker as he walked with her to the door of the House; ‘the Camberwell Seminary, have we a good chance of them? ‘Oh! Certain—quite certain. I had forgotten them for the moment, but I had a letter 3 days ago from my friend Mrs. Charles Dupuis which assured me of Camberwell. Camberwell will be here to a certainty, and very soon. That good Woman (I do not know her name) not being so wealthy and independent as Mrs. Griffiths, can travel and choose for herself. I will tell you how I got at her. Mrs. Charles Dupuis lives almost next door to a Lady, who has a relation lately settled at Clapham, who actually attends the Seminary and gives lessons on Eloquence and Belles Lettres to some of the Girls. I got that Man a Hare from one of Sidney's friends, and he recommended Sanditon. Without my appearing, however, Mrs. Charles Dupuis managed it all.’