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North and South

Gaskell, Elizabeth Cleghorn

Published: 1855

Type(s): Novels, Romance

Source: Gutenberg.org

About Gaskell:

Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell (née Stevenson; 29 September 1810 – 12

November 1865), often referred to simply as Mrs. Gaskell, was an Eng-

lish novelist and short story writer during the Victorian era. She is per-

haps best known for her biography of Charlotte Brontë. Her novels offer

a detailed portrait of the lives of many strata of society, including the

very poor, and as such are of interest to social historians as well as lovers

of literature.

Also available on Feedbooks for Gaskell:

• Wives and Daughters (1864)

• Cranford (1851)

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Chapter 1

Haste to the Wedding

'Wooed and married and a'.'

'Edith!' said Margaret, gently, 'Edith!'

But, as Margaret half suspected, Edith had fallen asleep. She lay curled

up on the sofa in the back drawing-room in Harley Street, looking very

lovely in her white muslin and blue ribbons. If Titania had ever been

dressed in white muslin and blue ribbons, and had fallen asleep on a

crimson damask sofa in a back drawing-room, Edith might have been

taken for her. Margaret was struck afresh by her cousin's beauty. They

had grown up together from childhood, and all along Edith had been re-

marked upon by every one, except Margaret, for her prettiness; but Mar-

garet had never thought about it until the last few days, when the pro-

spect of soon losing her companion seemed to give force to every sweet

quality and charm which Edith possessed. They had been talking about

wedding dresses, and wedding ceremonies; and Captain Lennox, and

what he had told Edith about her future life at Corfu, where his regiment

was stationed; and the difficulty of keeping a piano in good tune (a diffi-

culty which Edith seemed to consider as one of the most formidable that

could befall her in her married life), and what gowns she should want in

the visits to Scotland, which would immediately succeed her marriage;

but the whispered tone had latterly become more drowsy; and Margaret,

after a pause of a few minutes, found, as she fancied, that in spite of the

buzz in the next room, Edith had rolled herself up into a soft ball of

muslin and ribbon, and silken curls, and gone off into a peaceful little

after-dinner nap.

Margaret had been on the point of telling her cousin of some of the

plans and visions which she entertained as to her future life in the coun-

try parsonage, where her father and mother lived; and where her bright

holidays had always been passed, though for the last ten years her aunt

Shaw's house had been considered as her home. But in default of a

listener, she had to brood over the change in her life silently as hereto-

fore. It was a happy brooding, although tinged with regret at being sep-

arated for an indefinite time from her gentle aunt and dear cousin. As

she thought of the delight of filling the important post of only daughter

in Helstone parsonage, pieces of the conversation out of the next room

came upon her ears. Her aunt Shaw was talking to the five or six ladies

who had been dining there, and whose husbands were still in the dining-

room. They were the familiar acquaintances of the house; neighbours

whom Mrs. Shaw called friends, because she happened to dine with

them more frequently than with any other people, and because if she or

Edith wanted anything from them, or they from her, they did not scruple

to make a call at each other's houses before luncheon. These ladies and

their husbands were invited, in their capacity of friends, to eat a farewell

dinner in honour of Edith's approaching marriage. Edith had rather ob-

jected to this arrangement, for Captain Lennox was expected to arrive by

a late train this very evening; but, although she was a spoiled child, she

was too careless and idle to have a very strong will of her own, and gave

way when she found that her mother had absolutely ordered those extra

delicacies of the season which are always supposed to be efficacious

against immoderate grief at farewell dinners. She contented herself by

leaning back in her chair, merely playing with the food on her plate, and

looking grave and absent; while all around her were enjoying the mots of

Mr. Grey, the gentleman who always took the bottom of the table at Mrs.

Shaw's dinner parties, and asked Edith to give them some music in the

drawing-room. Mr. Grey was particularly agreeable over this farewell

dinner, and the gentlemen staid down stairs longer than usual. It was

very well they did—to judge from the fragments of conversation which

Margaret overheard.

'I suffered too much myself; not that I was not extremely happy with

the poor dear General, but still disparity of age is a drawback; one that I

was resolved Edith should not have to encounter. Of course, without any

maternal partiality, I foresaw that the dear child was likely to marry

early; indeed, I had often said that I was sure she would be married be-

fore she was nineteen. I had quite a prophetic feeling when Captain Len-

nox'—and here the voice dropped into a whisper, but Margaret could

easily supply the blank. The course of true love in Edith's case had run

remarkably smooth. Mrs. Shaw had given way to the presentiment, as

she expressed it; and had rather urged on the marriage, although it was

below the expectations which many of Edith's acquaintances had formed

for her, a young and pretty heiress. But Mrs. Shaw said that her only

child should marry for love,—and sighed emphatically, as if love had not

been her motive for marrying the General. Mrs. Shaw enjoyed the ro-

mance of the present engagement rather more than her daughter. Not

but that Edith was very thoroughly and properly in love; still she would

certainly have preferred a good house in Belgravia, to all the pictur-

esqueness of the life which Captain Lennox described at Corfu. The very

parts which made Margaret glow as she listened, Edith pretended to

shiver and shudder at; partly for the pleasure she had in being coaxed

out of her dislike by her fond lover, and partly because anything of a

gipsy or make-shift life was really distasteful to her. Yet had any one

come with a fine house, and a fine estate, and a fine title to boot, Edith

would still have clung to Captain Lennox while the temptation lasted;

when it was over, it is possible she might have had little qualms of ill-

concealed regret that Captain Lennox could not have united in his per-

son everything that was desirable. In this she was but her mother's child;

who, after deliberately marrying General Shaw with no warmer feeling

than respect for his character and establishment, was constantly, though

quietly, bemoaning her hard lot in being united to one whom she could

not love.

'I have spared no expense in her trousseau,' were the next words Mar-

garet heard.

'She has all the beautiful Indian shawls and scarfs the General gave to

me, but which I shall never wear again.'

'She is a lucky girl,' replied another voice, which Margaret knew to be

that of Mrs. Gibson, a lady who was taking a double interest in the con-

versation, from the fact of one of her daughters having been married

within the last few weeks.

'Helen had set her heart upon an Indian shawl, but really when I

found what an extravagant price was asked, I was obliged to refuse her.

She will be quite envious when she hears of Edith having Indian shawls.

What kind are they? Delhi? with the lovely little borders?'

Margaret heard her aunt's voice again, but this time it was as if she

had raised herself up from her half-recumbent position, and were look-

ing into the more dimly lighted back drawing-room. 'Edith! Edith!' cried

she; and then she sank as if wearied by the exertion. Margaret stepped

forward.

'Edith is asleep, Aunt Shaw. Is it anything I can do?'

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