Place of Confinement Read Online Free PDF Page B

she need not remind Dido of her age, her poverty, her dependence upon Margaret and Francis for a home. It had all hung, palpable but unspoken, in the chill air of the parlour, where the bright bars of the grate were unsullied by fire (because there was a gleam of sun in the March sky and it was, by Margaret’s account, ‘a wicked waste to burn coal while the sun shines’).
    Shivering with cold and emotion, Dido still hugged her worn pelisse about her shoulders as she laid down her prayer book and, with a great effort, suppressed her horror of the pew and a half full of children, the vigorous black side whiskers and the very notion of being such a ruby as had been described in the sermon. ‘I am sure,’ she said, seeking refuge in the forms of propriety, ‘I am very flattered by Doctor Prowdlee’s good opinion of me. But I do not think that he and I would suit one another.’
    Margaret’s lips thinned with fury. ‘Do you mean that you will refuse him?’
    ‘You forget, dear sister,’ said Dido repressively, ‘that the gentleman has not made me an offer. He has only paid me a – rather public – compliment.’
    ‘But he will offer,’ protested Margaret. ‘And you will refuse him? At six and thirty! I call that very selfish indeed when you know—’ She stopped herself. Even Margaret’s scanty notion of good breeding would not quite allow her to say outright that Dido was a burden upon her brothers. ‘You know that your entire family would rejoice to see you so respectably provided for.’ She pulled her gloves slowly from her hands, finger by finger, and added quietly, ‘It would, Dido, be a great relief to all your brothers to know that you were settled. ’
    Dido shrank into painful silence. She hoped with all her heart that her brothers loved her too well to wish her unhappily settled. But there was no denying that the fortunes of the family were very bad at present: the collapse of her brother Charles’s bank had been a blow to them all, and her brothers would be very glad to be relieved of the burden of her maintenance. But would they wish her to sacrifice herself?
    Of course, the main point was that Margaret would rejoice to see Dido settled in Upper Marwell with Doctor Prowdlee, the children and the abominable whiskers. So there was nothing to be gained from further discussion. She resolved upon waiting quietly for the proposal – and refusing it quietly when it came.
    But she had been denied the opportunity of refusal. For, within a very few days of this extraordinary sermon, a letter arrived in Badleigh parsonage from the widow of the wealthy Mr Manners – Dido’s mother’s brother. Mrs Manners was setting off upon a journey to visit her own relations in Devonshire and, requiring a companion, she had selected Dido from among her multitude of nieces.
    Margaret had immediately accepted the invitation upon her sister-in-law’s account and seen them off with very great satisfaction. For Mrs Manners was childless, and, consequently, her fortune – and its future disposal – were of great interest to her entire family; she was a lady who must be sedulously courted.
    And besides, attendance upon an elderly relative promoted that very picture of domestic womanhood which Margaret was most anxious to foster in Doctor Prowdlee’s mind. While the gentleman could not make his offer, he could not be refused; and, in the meantime, it was to be hoped that Dido might be made so utterly miserable – might be brought to loathe the condition of dependent spinsterhood so much – as to view Upper Marwell’s crowded rectory in a favourable light.
    It was certainly not intended that she should be released from her present servitude until she was willing to accept the honour of becoming Mrs Prowdlee.
    *   *   *
    Dido roused herself at last, cold and cramped, from her desponding thoughts and found that Aunt Manners’ hold had relaxed. She was sleeping now, her mouth hanging slightly open, her lower lip