Jane Talbot | Page 7

thwarting his son's
will;) "Frank will never consent. So, you see, it will be impossible to do
any thing."
I was going to propose that he should execute this business without my
brother's knowledge, but instantly perceived the impossibility of that.
My father had for some years devolved on his son the management of
all his affairs, and habit had made him no longer qualified to act for
himself. Frank's opinion of what was proper to be done was infallible,
and absolute in all cases.
I returned home with a very sad heart. I was deeply afflicted with this
new instance of my brother's selfishness and of my father's infatuation.
"Poor Risberg!" said I; "what will become of thee? I love thee as my
brother. I feel for thy distresses. Would to Heaven I could remove them!
And cannot I remove them? As to contending with my brother's
haughtiness in thy favour, that is a hopeless task. As to my father, he
will never submit to my guidance."
After much fruitless meditation, it occurred to me that I might supply
Risberg's wants from my own purse. My mother's indulgence to me
was without bounds. She openly considered and represented me as the
heiress of her fortunes, and confided fully in my discretion. The chief
uses I had hitherto found for money were charitable ones. I was her

almoner. To stand in the place of my father with respect to Risberg, and
supply his customary stipend from my own purse, was an adventurous
undertaking for a young creature like me. It was impossible to do this
clandestinely; at least, without the knowledge and consent of Mrs.
Fielder. I therefore resolved to declare what had happened, and request
her counsel. An opportunity suitable to this did not immediately offer.
Next morning, as I was sitting alone in the parlour, at work, my brother
came in. Never before had I received a visit from him. My surprise,
therefore, was not small. I started up with the confusion of a stranger,
and requested him, very formally, to be seated.
I instantly saw in his looks marks of displeasure, and, though
unconscious of meriting it, my trepidation increased. He took a seat
without speaking, and after some pause addressed me thus:--
"So, girl, I hear that you have been meddling with things that do not
concern you,--sowing dissension between the old man and me;
presuming to dictate to us how we are to manage our own property. He
retailed to me, last night, a parcel of impertinence with which you had
been teasing him, about this traveller Risberg, assuming, long before
your time, the province of his care-taker. Why, do you think,"
continued he, contemptuously, "he'll ever return to marry you? Take
my word for't, he's no such fool. I know that he never will."
The infirmity of my temper has been a subject of eternal regret to me;
yet it never displayed itself with much force, except under the lash of
my brother's sarcasms. My indignation on those occasions had a
strange mixture of fear in it, and both together suffocated my speech. I
made no answer to this boisterous arrogance.
"But come," continued he, "pray, let us hear your very wise objections
to a man's applying his own property to his own use. To rob himself
and spend the spoil upon another is thy sage maxim, it seems, for
which thou deservest to be dubbed a she Solomon. But let's see if thou
art as cunning in defending as in coining maxims. Come; there is a
chair: lay it on the floor, and suppose it a bar or rostrum, which thou
wilt, and stand behind it, and plead the cause of foolish prodigality

against common sense."
I endeavoured to muster up a little spirit, and replied, "I could not plead
before a more favourable judge. An appeal to my brother on behalf of
foolish prodigality could hardly fail of success. Poor common sense
must look for justice at some other tribunal."
His eyes darted fire. "Come, girl; none of your insolence. I did not
come here to be insulted."
"No; you rather came to commit than to receive an insult."
"Paltry distinguisher! to jest with you, and not chide you for your folly,
is to insult you, is it? Leave off romance, and stick to common sense,
and you will never receive any thing but kindness from me. But come;
if I must humour you, let me hear how you have found yourself out to
be wiser than your father and brother."
"I do not imagine, brother, that any good will result from our discussing
this subject. Education, or sex, if you please, has made a difference in
our judgments, which argument will never reconcile."
"With all my heart. A truce everlasting let there be;