The Desborough Connections Page #4

"The Desborough Connections" by Bret Harte is a captivating short story that explores themes of social class, morality, and the complexities of human relationships. Set in the American West, the narrative revolves around the titular Desborough family, whose connections and enigmatic past intrigue locals and visitors alike. Through a blend of wit, irony, and vivid characterization, Harte delves into the intricacies of love, loyalty, and the consequences of choices made by the characters. The story reflects the author's hallmark style, showcasing his ability to capture the essence of frontier life while critiquing societal norms.

• Short story

								

"doing good." She quickened her pace and overtook Miss Amelyn.

"Let me walk with you," she said graciously.

The young English girl smiled assent, but looked her surprise at seeing
the cynosure of last night's eyes unattended.

"Oh," said Sadie, answering the mute query, "I didn't want to be 'shown
round' by anybody, and I'm not going to bore YOU with asking to see
sights either. We'll just walk together; wherever YOU'RE going is good
enough for me."

"I'm going as far as the village," said Miss Amelyn, looking down
doubtfully at Sadie's smart French shoes--"if you care to walk so far."

Sadie noticed that her companion was more solidly booted, and that
her straight, short skirts, although less stylish than her own, had
a certain character, better fitted to the freer outdoor life of the
country. But she only said, however, "The village will do," and gayly
took her companion's arm.

"But I'm afraid you'll find it very uninteresting, for I am going to
visit some poor cottages," persisted Miss Amelyn, with a certain
timid ingenuousness of manner which, however, was as distinct as Miss
Desborough's bolder frankness. "I promised the rector's daughter to take
her place to-day."

"And I feel as if I was ready to pour oil and wine to any extent," said
Miss Desborough, "so come along!"

Miss Amelyn laughed, and yet glanced around her timidly, as if she
thought that Miss Desborough ought to have a larger and more important
audience. Then she continued more confidentially and boldly, "But it
isn't at all like 'slumming,' you know. These poor people here are not
very bad, and are not at all extraordinary."

"Never mind," said Sadie, hurrying her along. After a pause she went on,
"You know the Priory very well, I guess?"

"I lived there when I was a little girl, with my aunt, the Dowager Lady
Beverdale," said Miss Amelyn. "When my cousin Fred, who was the young
heir, died, and the present Lord Beverdale succeeded,--HE never expected
it, you know, for there were two lives, his two elder brothers, besides
poor Fred's, between, but they both died,--we went to live in the Dower
House."

"The Dower House?" repeated Sadie.

"Yes, Lady Beverdale's separate property."

"But I thought all this property--the Priory--came into the family
through HER."

"It did--this was the Amelyns' place; but the oldest son or nearest male
heir always succeeds to the property and title."

"Do you mean to say that the present Lord Beverdale turned that old lady
out?"

Miss Amelyn looked shocked. "I mean to say," she said gravely, "Lady
Beverdale would have had to go when her own son became of age, had
he lived." She paused, and then said timidly, "Isn't it that way in
America?"

"Dear no!" Miss Desborough had a faint recollection that there was
something in the Constitution or the Declaration of Independence against
primogeniture. "No! the men haven't it ALL their own way THERE--not
much!"

Miss Amelyn looked as if she did not care to discuss this problem. After
a few moments Sadie continued, "You and Lord Algernon are pretty old
friends, I guess?"

"No," replied Miss Amelyn. "He came once or twice to the Priory for the
holidays, when he was quite a boy at Marlborough--for the family weren't
very well off, and his father was in India. He was a very shy boy, and
of course no one ever thought of him succeeding."

Miss Desborough felt half inclined to be pleased with this, and yet half
inclined to resent this possible snubbing of her future husband. But
they were nearing the village, and Miss Amelyn turned the conversation
to the object of her visit. It was a new village--an unhandsome village,
for all that it stood near one of the gates of the park. It had been
given over to some mines that were still worked in its vicinity, and to
the railway, which the uncle of the present earl had resisted; but the
railway had triumphed, and the station for Scrooby Priory was there.
There was a grim church, of a blackened or weather-beaten stone, on the
hill, with a few grim Amelyns reposing cross-legged in the chancel, but
the character of the village was as different from the Priory as if it
were in another county. They stopped at the rectory, where Miss Amelyn
provided herself with certain doles and gifts, which the American
girl would have augmented with a five-pound note but for Miss Amelyn's
horrified concern. "As many shillings would do, and they would be as
grateful," she said. "More they wouldn't understand."

"Then keep it, and dole it out as you like," said Sadie quickly.

"But I don't think that--that Lord Beverdale would quite approve,"
hesitated Miss Amelyn.

The pretty brow of her companion knit, and her gray eyes flashed
vivaciously. "What has HE to do with it?" she said pertly; "besides, you
say these are not HIS poor. Take that five-pound note--or--I'll DOUBLE
it, get it changed into sovereigns at the station, and hand 'em round to
every man, woman, and child."

Miss Amelyn hesitated. The American girl looked capable of doing what
she said; perhaps it was a national way of almsgiving! She took the
note, with the mental reservation of making a full confession to the
rector and Lord Beverdale.

She was right in saying that the poor of Scrooby village were not
interesting. There was very little squalor or degradation; their poverty
seemed not a descent, but a condition to which they had been born; the
faces which Sadie saw were dulled and apathetic rather than sullen
or rebellious; they stood up when Miss Amelyn entered, paying HER the
deference, but taking little note of the pretty butterfly who was with
her, or rather submitting to her frank curiosity with that dull consent
of the poor, as if they had lost even the sense of privacy, or a right
to respect. It seemed to the American girl that their poverty was more
indicated by what they were SATISFIED with than what she thought they
MISSED. It is to be feared that this did not add to Sadie's sympathy;
all the beggars she had seen in America wanted all they could get, and
she felt as if she were confronted with an inferior animal.

"There's a wonderful old man lives here," said Miss Amelyn, as they
halted before a stone and thatch cottage quite on the outskirts of
the village. "We can't call him one of our poor, for he still works,
although over eighty, and it's his pride to keep out of the poorhouse,
and, as he calls it, 'off' the hands of his granddaughters. But we
manage to do something for THEM, and we hope he profits by it. One of
them is at the Priory; they're trying to make a maid of her, but her
queer accent--they're from the north--is against her with the servants.
I am afraid we won't see old Debs, for he's at work again to-day, though
the doctor has warned him."

"Debs! What a funny name!"

"Yes, but as many of these people cannot read or write, the name is
carried by the ear, and not always correctly. Some of the railway

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