The rudeness of this speech would have been intolerable to her husband if it had not been for a certain hesitation in the emphasis with which she p.r.o.nounced the word curiosity, which left him in doubt as to her real motive.

Jealousy is sometimes thought to be a proof of love; and, in this point of view, must not all its caprices, absurdities, and extravagances, be graceful, amiable, and gratifying?

A few days after Griselda had satisfied her curiosity, she thus, in the presence of her husband, began to vent her spleen:

"For Heaven's sake, dear Mrs. Nettleby," cried she, addressing herself to the new-married widow, who came to return her wedding visit--"for pity's sake, dear Mrs. Nettleby, can you or any body else tell me what possessed Mr. Granby to marry Emma Cooke?"

"I am sure I cannot tell, for I have not seen her yet."

"You will be less able to tell after you have seen her, and still less after you have heard her."

"What, then, she is neither a wit nor a beauty! I'm quite surprised at that; for I thought, to be sure, Mr. Granby, who is such a judge and such a critic, and so nice about female manners, would not have been content without something very extraordinary."

"Nothing can be more ordinary."

"Astonishing! but I am quite tired of being astonished at marriages!

One sees such strange matches every day, I am resolved never to be surprised at any thing: who _can_, that lives in the world? But really now I am surprised at Mr. Granby. What! is she nothing?"

"Nothing--absolutely nothing; a cipher; a nonent.i.ty."

"Now really? you do not tell me so," said Mrs. Nettleby. "Well, I am so disappointed; for I always resolved to take example by Mr. Granby's wife."

"I would rather that she should take warning by me," said Griselda, laughing. "But to be candid, I must tell you that to some people's taste she is a pattern wife--a perfect Grizzle. She and I should have changed names--or characters. Which, my dear?" cried she, appealing to her husband.

"Not names, my dear," answered he.

The conversation might here have ended happily, but unluckily our heroine could not be easily satisfied before Mrs. Nettleby, to whom she was proud of showing her conjugal ascendancy.

"My dear," said she to her husband, "a-propos to pattern wives: you have read Chaucer's Tales. Do you seriously like or dislike the real, original, old Griselda?"

"It is so long since I have seen her that I cannot tell," replied he.

"Then, my dear, you must read the story over again, and tell me without evasion."

"And if he could read it before Mrs. Granby and me, what a compliment that would be to one bride," added the malicious Mrs. Nettleby, "and what a lesson for another!"

"Oh, it must be so! it must be so!" cried Griselda. "I will ask her here on purpose to a reading party; and you, my dear Mrs. Nettleby, will come for your lesson. You, my love, who read so well--and who, I am sure, will be delighted to pay a compliment to your favourite, Mrs. Granby--you will read, and I will--weep. On what day shall it be?

Let me see: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Sat.u.r.day, Sunday, I'm engaged: but Sunday is only a party at home; I can put that off:--then Sunday let it be."

"Sunday, I am unluckily engaged, my dear," said her husband.

"Engaged? Oh, nonsense! You have no engagements of any consequence: and when I put off _my_ party on purpose to have the pleasure of hearing you read, oblige me, my love, for once."

"My love, to oblige you, I will do any thing."

Griselda cast a triumphant glance at Mrs. Nettleby, which said as plainly as a look could say, "You see how I rule him!"

CHAPTER IV.

"Feels every vanity in fondness lost, And asks no power but that of pleasing most."

On Sunday evening a large company a.s.sembled at our heroine's summons.

They were all seated in due form: the reader with his book open, and waiting for the arrival of the bride, for whom a conspicuous place was destined, where the spectators, and especially Mrs. Nettleby and our Griselda, could enjoy a full view of her countenance.

"Lord bless me! it is getting late: I am afraid--I am really afraid Mrs. Granby will not come."

The ladies had time to discuss who and what she was: as she had lived in the country, few of them had seen, or could tell any thing about her; but our heroine circulated her opinion in whispers, and every one was prepared to laugh at _the pattern wife, the original Griselda revived_, as Mrs. Nettleby sarcastically called her.

Mrs. Granby was announced. The buzz was hushed and the t.i.tter suppressed; affected gravity appeared in every countenance, and all eyes turned with malicious curiosity upon the bride as she entered.--The timidity of Emma's first appearance was so free both from awkwardness and affectation, that it interested at least every gentleman present in her favour. Surrounded by strangers, but quite unsuspicious that they were prepared to consider her as an object of ridicule or satire, she won her way to the lady of the house, to whom she addressed herself as to a friend.

"Is not she quite a different person from what you had expected?"

whispered one of the ladies to her neighbour, as Emma pa.s.sed. Her manner seemed to solicit indulgence rather than to provoke envy. She was very sorry to find that the company had been waiting for her; she had been detained by the sudden illness of Mr. Granby's mother.

Whilst Emma was making this apology, some of the audience observed that she had a remarkably sweet voice; others discovered that there was something extremely feminine in her person. A gentleman, who saw that she was distressed at the idea of being seated in the conspicuous place to which she was destined by the lady of the house, got up, and offered his seat, which she most thankfully accepted.

"Oh, my dear Mrs. Granby, I cannot possibly allow you to sit there,"

cried the lady of the house. "You must have the honours of the day,"

added she, seizing Emma's hand to conduct her to the _place of honour_.

"Pray excuse me," said Mrs. Granby, "honours are so little suited to me: I am perfectly well here."

"But with that window _at your back_, my dear madam!" said Mrs.

Nettleby.

"I do not feel the slightest breath of air. But perhaps I crowd these ladies."

"Not in the least, not in the least," said the ladies, who were on each side of her: they were won by the irresistible gentleness of Emma's manner. Our heroine was vexed to be obliged to give up her point; and relinquishing Mrs. Granby's hand, returned to her own seat, and said in a harsh tone to her husband,

"Well! my dear, if we are to have any reading to-night, you had better begin."

The reading began; and Emma was so completely absorbed, that she did not perceive that most of the audience were intent upon her. Those who act any part may be ridiculous in the playing it, but those are safe from the utmost malignity of criticism who are perfectly unconscious that they have any part to perform. Emma had been abashed at her first appearance in an a.s.sembly of strangers, and concerned by the idea that she had kept them waiting; but as soon as this embarra.s.sment pa.s.sed over, her manners resumed their natural ease--a degree of ease which surprised her judges, and which arose from the persuasion that she was not of sufficient consequence to attract attention. Our heroine was provoked by the sight of this insolent tranquillity, and was determined that it should not long continue. The reader came to the promise which Gualtherus exacts from his bride:--

"Swear that with ready will, and honest heart, Like or dislike, without regret or art, In presence or alone, by night or day, All that I will, you fail not to obey; All I intend to forward, that you seek, Nor ever once object to what I speak.

Nor yet in part alone my wish fulfil; Nor though you do it, do it with ill-will; Nor with a forced compliance half refuse; And acting duty, all the merit lose.

To strict obedience add a willing grace, And let your soul be painted in your face; No reasons given, and no pretences sought, To swerve in deed or word, in look or thought."

"Well, ladies!" cried the modern Griselda, "what do you think of this?"

Shrill exclamations of various vehemence expressed with one accord the sentiments, or rather feelings, of almost all the married ladies who were present.

"Abominable! Intolerable! Insufferable! Horrible! I would rather have seen the man perish at my feet; I would rather have died: I would have remained unmarried all my life rather than have submitted to such terms."

A few young unmarried ladies who had not spoken, or who had not been heard to speak in the din of tongues, were appealed to by the gentlemen next them. They could not be prevailed upon to p.r.o.nounce any distinct opinion: they qualified, and hesitated, and softened, and equivocated, and "were not positively able to judge, for really they had never thought upon the subject."