Free The Vicar of Wakefield by Oliver Goldsmith Page B

contrary, dissuaded her with great ardor, and I
stood neuter. His present dissuasions seemed but the second part of
those which were received with so ill a grace in the morning. The
dispute grew high while poor Deborah, instead of reasoning
stronger, talked louder, and at last was obliged to take shelter
from a defeat in clamour. The conclusion of her harangue, however,
was highly displeasing to us all: she knew, she said, of some who
had their own secret reasons for what they advised; but, for her
part, she wished such to stay away from her house for the
future.—'Madam,' cried Burchell, with looks of great composure,
which tended to enflame her the more, 'as for secret reasons, you
are right: I have secret reasons, which I forbear to mention,
because you are not able to answer those of which I make no secret:
but I find my visits here are become troublesome; I'll take my
leave therefore now, and perhaps come once more to take a final
farewell when I am quitting the country.' Thus saying, he took up
his hat, nor could the attempts of Sophia, whose looks seemed to
upbraid his precipitancy, prevent his going.
    When gone, we all regarded each other for some minutes with
confusion. My wife, who knew herself to be the cause, strove to
hide her concern with a forced smile, and an air of assurance,
which I was willing to reprove: 'How, woman,' cried I to her, 'is
it thus we treat strangers? Is it thus we return their kindness? Be
assured, my dear, that these were the harshest words, and to me the
most unpleasing that ever escaped your lips!'—'Why would he provoke
me then,' replied she; 'but I know the motives of his advice
perfectly well. He would prevent my girls from going to town, that
he may have the pleasure of my youngest daughter's company here at
home. But whatever happens, she shall chuse better company than
such low-lived fellows as he.'—'Low-lived, my dear, do you call
him,' cried I, 'it is very possible we may mistake this man's
character: for he seems upon some occasions the most finished
gentleman I ever knew.—Tell me, Sophia, my girl, has he ever given
you any secret instances of his attachment?'—'His conversation with
me, sir,' replied my daughter, 'has ever been sensible, modest, and
pleasing. As to aught else, no, never. Once, indeed, I remember to
have heard him say he never knew a woman who could find merit in a
man that seemed poor.' 'Such, my dear,' cried I, 'is the common
cant of all the unfortunate or idle. But I hope you have been
taught to judge properly of such men, and that it would be even
madness to expect happiness from one who has been so very bad an
oeconomist of his own. Your mother and I have now better prospects
for you. The next winter, which you will probably spend in town,
will give you opportunities of making a more prudent choice.' What
Sophia's reflections were upon this occasion, I can't pretend to
determine; but I was not displeased at the bottom that we were rid
of a guest from whom I had much to fear. Our breach of hospitality
went to my conscience a little: but I quickly silenced that monitor
by two or three specious reasons, which served to satisfy and
reconcile me to myself. The pain which conscience gives the man who
has already done wrong, is soon got over. Conscience is a coward,
and those faults it has not strength enough to prevent, it seldom
has justice enough to accuse.

CHAPTER 14
    Fresh mortifications, or a demonstration that seeming calamities
may be real blessings
    The journey of my daughters to town was now resolved upon, Mr
Thornhill having kindly promised to inspect their conduct himself,
and inform us by letter of their behaviour. But it was thought
indispensably necessary that their appearance should equal the
greatness of their expectations, which could not be done without
expence. We debated therefore in full council what were the easiest
methods of raising money, or, more properly speaking, what we could
most conveniently sell. The deliberation was soon