At Sylvanbourn
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single wizard in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
However little known the feelings or views of such a wizard may be on his first entering a neighbourhood, this truth is so well fixed in the minds of the surrounding families that he is considered as the rightful property of some one or other of their daughters.
‘My dear Mr. Evans,’ said his lady to him one day, ‘have you heard that Netherthorn Forest is let at last?’
Mr. Evans replied that he had not.
‘But it is,’ returned she; ‘for Mrs. Long has just been here, and she told me all about it.’
Mr. Evans made no answer.
‘Do not you want to know who has taken it?’ cried his wife impatiently.
‘You want to tell me, and I have no objection to hearing it.’
This was invitation enough.
‘Why, my dear, you must know, Mrs. Long says that Netherthorn is taken by a young wizard of large fortune from the north of England; that he came down on Monday in a chaise aux Thestrals to see the place, and was so much delighted with it, that he agreed with Mr. Morris immediately; that he is to take possession before Michaelmas, and some of his servants are to be in the house by the end of next week.’
‘What is his name?’
‘Black.’
‘Is he married or single?’
‘Oh! single, my dear, to be sure! A single wizard of large fortune; eight hundred or one thousand Galleons a year. What a fine thing for our girls!’
‘How so? how can it affect them?’
‘My dear Mr. Evans,‘ replied his wife, ‘how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them.’
‘Is that his design in settling here?’
‘Design! nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he may fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as he comes.’
‘I see no occasion for that. You and the girls may go, or you may send them by themselves, which perhaps will be still better, for as you are as handsome as any of them, Mr. Black might like you the best of the party.’
‘They have none of them much to recommend them,’ replied he; ‘they are all silly and ignorant, like other girls; but Lily has something more of quickness than her sisters.’
‘Mr. Evans, how can you abuse your own children in such a way! You take delight in vexing me. You have no compassion of my poor nerves.’
‘You mistake me, my dear. I have a high respect for your nerves. They are my old friends. I have heard you mention them with consideration these twenty years at least.’
‘Ah! You do not know what I suffer.’
‘But I hope you will get over it, and live to see many young wizards of one thousand a year come into the neighbourhood.’
‘It will be no use to us, if twenty such should come, since you will not visit them.’
‘Depend upon it, my dear, that when there are twenty, I will visit them all.’
Mr. Evans was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. Her mind was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented, she fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her daughters married; its solace was visiting and news.