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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/22000-8.txt b/22000-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..088df2b --- /dev/null +++ b/22000-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8028 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Kept in the Dark, by Anthony Trollope + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Kept in the Dark + + +Author: Anthony Trollope + + + +Release Date: September 10, 2007 [eBook #22000] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEPT IN THE DARK*** + + +E-text prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + + + +KEPT IN THE DARK + +by + +ANTHONY TROLLOPE + +Originally published in serial form May through December, 1882, in +_Good Words_ and in book form in 1882. Trollope died during the last +month of serial publication. + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + VOLUME I. + + I. CECILIA HOLT AND HER THREE FRIENDS. + II. SIR FRANCIS GERALDINE. + III. THE END OF THAT EPISODE. + IV. MR. WESTERN. + V. CECILIA'S SECOND CHANCE. + VI. WHAT ALL HER FRIENDS SAID ABOUT IT. + VII. MISS ALTIFIORLA'S ARRIVAL. + VIII. LADY GRANT. + IX. MISS ALTIFIORLA'S DEPARTURE. + X. SIR FRANCIS TRAVELS WITH MISS ALTIFIORLA. + XI. MR. WESTERN HEARS THE STORY. + XII. MR. WESTERN'S DECISION. + + VOLUME II. + + XIII. MRS. WESTERN PREPARES TO LEAVE. + XIV. TO WHAT A PUNISHMENT! + XV. ONCE MORE AT EXETER. + XVI. "IT IS ALTOGETHER UNTRUE." + XVII. MISS ALTIFIORLA RISES IN THE WORLD. + XVIII. A MAN'S PRIDE. + XIX. DICK TAKES HIS FINAL LEAVE. + XX. THE SECRET ESCAPES. + XXI. LADY GRANT AT DRESDEN. + XXII. MR. WESTERN YIELDS. + XXIII. SIR FRANCIS' ESCAPE. + XIV. CONCLUSION. + + + + +VOLUME I. + +CHAPTER I. + +CECILIA HOLT AND HER THREE FRIENDS. + + +There came an episode in the life of Cecilia Holt which it is +essential should first be told. When she was twenty-two years old +she was living with her mother at Exeter. Mrs. Holt was a widow with +comfortable means,--ample that is for herself and her daughter to +supply them with all required by provincial comfort and provincial +fashion. They had a house without the city, with a garden and a +gardener and two boys, and they kept a brougham, which was the joint +care of the gardener and the boy inside and the boy outside. They +saw their friends and were seen by them. Once in the year they left +home for a couple of months and went,--wherever the daughter wished. +Sometimes there was a week or two in London; sometimes in Paris +or Switzerland. The mother seemed to be only there to obey the +daughter's behests, and Cecilia was the most affectionate of masters. +Nothing could have been less disturbed or more happy than their +lives. No doubt there was present in Cecilia's manner a certain +looking down upon her mother,--of which all the world was aware, +unless it was her mother and herself. The mother was not blessed by +literary tastes, whereas Cecilia was great among French and German +poets. And Cecilia was æsthetic, whereas the mother thought more of +the delicate providing of the table. Cecilia had two or three female +friends, who were not quite her equals in literature but nearly so. +There was Maude Hippesley, the Dean's daughter, and Miss Altifiorla, +the daughter of an Italian father who had settled in Exeter with her +maternal aunt,--in poor circumstances, but with an exalted opinion +as to her own blood. Francesca Altifiorla was older than her friend, +and was, perhaps, the least loved of the three, but the most often +seen. And there was Mrs. Green, the Minor Canon's wife, who had the +advantage of a husband, but was nevertheless humble and retiring. +They formed the _élite_ of Miss Holt's society and were called by +their Christian names. The Italian's name was Francesca and the +married lady was called Bessy. + +Cecilia had no lovers till there came in an evil hour to Exeter one +Sir Francis Geraldine. She had somewhat scoffed at love, or at the +necessity of having a lover. She and Miss Altifiorla had been of one +mind on that subject. Maude Hippesley had a lover and could not be +supposed to give her accord. Mrs. Green had had one, but expressed +an opinion that it was a trouble well over. A husband might be a +comfort, but a lover was a "bother." "It's such a blessing to be able +to wear my old gloves before him. He doesn't mind it now as he knows +he'll have to pay for the new." But at length there came the lover. +Sir Francis Geraldine was a man who had property in the county but +had not lately lived upon it. He was of an old family, of which he +was very proud. He was an old baronet, a circumstance which he seemed +to think was very much in his favour. Good heavens! From what a +height did he affect to look down upon the peers of the last twenty +years. His property was small, but so singular were his gifts that he +was able to be proud of that also. It had all been in the possession +of his family since the time of James I. And he was a man who knew +everything though only forty, and by no means old in appearance. But, +if you were to believe him, he had all that experience of the world +which nothing but unlimited years could have given him. He knew all +the Courts in Europe, and all the race courses,--and more especially +all the Jacks and Toms who had grown into notoriety in those +different worlds of fashion. He came to Exeter to stay with his +brother-in-law, the Dean, and to look after his property for a while. +There he fell in love with Cecilia Holt, and, after a fortnight +of prosperous love-making, made her an offer. This the young lady +accepted, averse as she was to lovers, and for a month was the +happiest and proudest girl in all Exeter. The happiness and pride of +a girl in her lover is something wonderful to behold. He is surely +the only man, and she the only woman born worthy of such a man. She +is to be the depository of all his secrets, and the recipient of +all his thoughts. That other young ladies should accept her with +submission in this period of her ecstasy would be surprising were it +not that she is so truly exalted by her condition as to make her for +a short period an object to them of genuine worship. In this way, for +a month or six weeks, did Miss Holt's friends submit to her and bear +with her. They endured to be considered but as the outside personages +of an indifferent outer world, whereas Cecilia herself with her lover +were the only two inhabitants of the small celestial empire in which +they lived. Then there gradually came to be a change. And it must +be acknowledged here that the change commenced with Cecilia Holt +herself. + +The greater the adoration of the girl the deeper the abyss into which +she falls,--if she be doomed to fall at all. A month of imperfection +she can bear, even though the imperfections be very glaring. For +a month, or perhaps for six weeks, the desire to subject herself +to a newly-found superior being supports her spirit against all +trials. Neglect when it first comes is not known to be neglect. +The first bursts of ill-temper have about them something of the +picturesque,--or at any rate of the grotesque. Even the selfishness +is displayed on behalf of an object so exalted as to be excusable. +So it was with Cecilia Holt. The period of absolute, unmistaken, +unreasonable love lasted but for six weeks after her engagement. +During those six weeks all Exeter knew of it. There was no reticence +on the part of any one. Sir Francis Geraldine had fallen in love +with Cecilia Holt and a great triumph had been won. Cecilia, in +spite of her general well-known objection to lovers, had triumphed +a little. It is not to be supposed that she had miscarried herself +outrageously. He is cold-hearted, almost cruel, who does not like +to see the little triumph of a girl in such circumstances, who will +not sympathise with her, and join with her, if occasion come, in her +exaltation. No fault was found with Cecilia among her friends in +Exeter, but it was a fact that she did triumph. How it was that the +time of her worship then came to an end it would be difficult to say. +She was perhaps struck by neglect, or something which appeared to her +to be almost scorn. And the man himself, she found, was ignorant. +The ill-temper had lost its picturesqueness, and become worse than +grotesque. And the selfishness seemed to be displayed on an object +not so high as to render it justifiable. Then came a fortnight of +vacillating misery, in which she did not dare to tell her discomfort +to either of her friends. Her mother, who, though she could not +read Schiller, was as anxious for her daughter's happiness as any +mother could be, saw something of this and at last ventured to ask +a question. "Was not Francis to have been here this morning?" + +Cecilia was at that moment thinking of her lover, thinking that he +had been untrue to his tryst now for the third time; and thinking +also that she knew him to be untrue not with any valid excuse, not +with the slightest cause for an excuse, but with a pre-determination +to show the girl to whom he was engaged that it did not suit him any +longer to be at the trouble of serving her. "Oh, mamma, how foolish +you are! How can I tell what Sir Francis Geraldine may be doing?" + +"But I thought he was to have been here." + +"Mamma, please understand that I do not carry him about tied to my +apron-strings. When it pleases him to come he will come." Then she +went on with her book and was silent for a minute or two. Then she +broke out again. "I am sure there ought to be a rule in life that +people when they are engaged should never see each other again till +they meet in the church." + +"I don't think that would do at all, my dear." + +"Perhaps things were different when you were young. The world becomes +less simple every day. However, mamma, we must put up with Sir +Francis whether he come or whether he remain away." + +"The world may be less simple," said Mrs. Holt after a pause, "but I +don't think it half so nice. Young men used to think that there was +nothing so pleasant as a young lady's company when,--when,--when they +were engaged, you know." Then the conversation ended, and the morning +passed without the coming of Sir Francis. + +After that a week passed,--with great forbearance on the part of +Cecilia. She thought herself at least to be forbearing. She thought +much of her lover, and had no doubt tried to interest herself in the +usual conversation of her friends. But they, by the end of the week, +perceived that Sir Francis was never first spoken of by herself. To +Maude Hippesley it was very difficult to avoid an expression of her +doubts, because Maude was niece to Sir Francis. And Sir Francis was +much talked about at the Deanery. "My uncle was not down here this +morning," Maude would say:--and then she would go on to excuse +the defalcation. He had had business requiring his immediate +attention,--probably something as to the marriage settlements. "But +of course he will tell you all that." Cecilia saw through the little +attempts. Maude was quite aware that Sir Francis was becoming weary +of his lover's cares, and made the best excuse she could for them. +But Maude Hippesley never had liked her uncle. + +"Oh, my dear Maude," said Cecilia, "pray let him do what he pleases +with himself in these the last days of his liberty. When he has got a +wife he must attend to her,--more or less. Now he is as free as air. +Pray let him do as he pleases, and for heaven's sake do not bother +him!" Maude who had her own lover, and was perfectly satisfied with +him though she had been engaged to him for nearly twelve months, knew +that things were not going well, and was unhappy. But at the moment +she said nothing further. + +"Where is this recreant knight?" said Francesca. There was something +in the tone of Miss Altifiorla's voice which grated against Cecilia's +ears, and almost made her angry. But she knew that in her present +condition it behoved her to be especially careful. Had she resolved +to break with her betrothed she would have been quite open on the +subject to all her friends. She would have been open to all Exeter. +But in her present condition of mind she was resolved,--she thought +she was resolved,--to go on with her marriage. + +"Why you should call him a recreant knight, I cannot for the life of +me understand," she said. "But it seems that Sir Francis, who is not +exactly in his first youth, is supposed to be as attentive as a young +turtle dove." + +"I always used to think," said Miss Altifiorla gravely, "that a +gentleman was bound to keep his promise." + +"Oh heavens, how grave you all are! A gentleman and his promise! Do +you mean to assert that Sir Francis is no gentleman, and does not +keep his promises? Because if so I shall be angry." Then there was an +end of that conversation. + +But she was stirred to absolute anger by what took place with Mrs. +Green, though she was unable to express her anger. Mrs. Green's +manner to her had always been that of a somewhat humble friend,--of +one who lived in lodgings in the High Street, and who accepted +dinners without returning them. And since this engagement with Sir +Francis had become a fact, her manner had become perhaps a little +more humble. She used to say of herself that of course she was poor; +of course she had nothing to give. Her husband was only a Minor +Canon, and had married her, alas, without a fortune. It is not to be +supposed that on this account Cecilia was inclined to ill-treat her +friend; but the way of the world is such. People are taken and must +be taken in the position they frame for themselves. Mrs. Green was +Cecilia Holt's humble friend, and as such was expected to be humble. +When, therefore, she volunteered a little advice to Cecilia about her +lover, it was not taken altogether in good part. "My dear Cecilia," +she said, "I do really think that you ought to say something to Sir +Francis." + +"Say something!" answered Cecilia sharply. "What am I to say? I say +everything to him that comes in my way." + +"I think, my dear, he is just a little inattentive. I have gone +through it all, and of course know what it means. It is not that he +is deficient in love, but that he allows a hundred little things to +stand in his way." + +"What nonsense you do talk!" + +"But, my dear, you see I have gone through it all myself, and I do +know what I am talking about." + +"Mr. Green--! Do you mean to liken Mr. Green to Sir Francis?" + +"They are both gentlemen," said Mrs. Green with a slight tone of +anger. "And though Sir Francis is a baronet, Mr. Green is a +clergyman." + +"My dear Bessie, you know that is not what I meant. In that respect +they are both alike. But you, when you were engaged, were about three +years younger than the man, and I am nearly twenty years younger than +Sir Francis. You don't suppose that I can put myself altogether on +the same platform with him as you did with your lover. It is absurd +to suppose it. Do you let him go his way, and me go mine. You may be +sure that not a word of reproach will ever fall from my lips."--"Till +we are married," Cecilia had intended to say, but she did not +complete the sentence. + +But the words of her comforters had their effect, as no doubt was the +case with Job. She had complained to no one, but everybody had seen +her condition. Her poor dear old mother, who would have put up with +a very moderate amount of good usage on the part of such a lover as +Sir Francis, had been aware that things were not as they should be. +Her three friends, to whom she had not opened her mouth in the way +of expressing her grievance, had all seen her trouble. That Maude +Hippesley and Miss Altifiorla had noticed it did not strike her with +much surprise, but that Mrs. Green should have expressed herself so +boldly was startling. She could not but turn the matter over in her +own mind and ask herself whether she were ill-treated. And it was +not only those differences which the ladies noticed which struck her +as ominous, but a certain way which Sir Francis had when talking to +herself which troubled her. That light tone of contempt if begun now +would certainly not be dropped after their marriage. He had assumed +an easy way of almost laughing at her, of quizzing her pursuits, and, +worse still, of only half listening to her, which she felt to promise +very badly for her future happiness. If he wanted his liberty he +should have it,--now and then. She would never be a drag on her +husband's happiness. She had resolved from the very first not to be +an exigeant wife. She would care for all his cares, but she would +never be a troublesome wife. All that had been matter of deep thought +to her. And if he were not given to literary tastes in earnest,--for +in the first days of their love-making there had been, as was +natural, a little pretence,--she would not harass him by her +pursuits. And she would sympathise with his racing and his shooting. +And she would interest herself, if possible, about Newmarket,--as to +which place she found he had a taste. And, joined to all the rest, +there came a conviction that his real tastes did take that direction. +She had never before heard that he had a passion for the turf; but +if it should turn out that he was a gambler! Had any of her friends +mentioned such an idea to her a week ago, how she would have rebuked +that friend! But now she added this to her other grievances, and +began to tell herself that she had become engaged to a man whom she +did not know and whom she already doubted. + +Then there came a week of very troubled existence,--of existence the +more troubled because she had no one to whom to tell her trouble. As +to putting confidence in her mother,--that idea never occurred to +her. Her mother among her friends was the humblest of all. To tell +her mother that she was going to be married was a matter of course, +but she had never consulted her mother on the subject. And now, at +the end of the week, she had almost resolved to break with the man +without having intimated to any one that such was her intention. And +what excuse had she? There was excuse enough to her own mind, to her +own heart. But what excuse could she give to him or to the world? He +was confident enough,--so confident as to vex her by his confidence. +Though he had come to treat her with indifference, like a plaything, +she was quite sure that he did not dream of having his marriage +broken off. He was secured,--she was sure that this was his +feeling,--by her love, by her ambition, by his position in the world. +He could make her Lady Geraldine! Was it to be supposed that she +should not wish to be Lady Geraldine? He could take what liberties he +pleased without any danger of losing her! It was her conviction that +such was the condition of his mind that operated the strongest in +bringing her to her resolution. + +But she must tell some one. She must have a confidante. "Maude," she +said one day, "I have made up my mind not to marry your uncle." + +"Cecilia!" + +"I have. No one as yet has been told, but I have resolved. Should I +see him to-morrow, or next day, or the next, I shall tell him." + +"You are not in earnest?" + +"Is it likely that I should jest on such a subject;--or that if I had +a mind to do so I should tell you? You must keep my secret. You must +not tell your uncle. It must come to him from myself. At the present +moment he does not in the least know me,--but he will." + +"And why? Why is there to be this break;--why to be these broken +promises?" + +"I put it to yourself whether you do not know the why. How often have +you made excuses for him? Why have the excuses been necessary? I am +prepared to bear all the blame. I must bear it. But I am not prepared +to make myself miserable for ever because I have made a mistake as to +a man's character. Of course I shall suffer,--because I love him. He +will not suffer much,--because he does not love me." + +"Oh, yes!" + +"You know that he does not," said Cecilia, shaking her head. "You +know it. You know it. At any rate I know it. And as the thing has to +be done, it shall be done quickly." There was much more said between +the two girls on the subject, but Maude when she left her friend was +sure that her friend was in earnest. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +SIR FRANCIS GERALDINE. + + +On that same afternoon, at about tea time, Sir Francis came up to the +house. He had said that he would be there if he could get there,--and +he got there. He was shown into the drawing-room, where was sitting +Mrs. Holt with her daughter, and began to tell them that he was to +leave the Deanery on the following morning and not be back till a +day or two before his marriage. "Where are you going?" Cecilia asked, +meaning nothing, only gaining time till she should have determined +how she should carry out her purpose. + +"Well;--if you must know, I am going to Goodwood. I had not thought +of it. But some friends have reminded me that as these are to be the +last days of my liberty I may as well enjoy them." + +"Your friends are very complaisant to me," said Cecilia in a tone of +voice which seemed to imply that she took it all in earnest. + +"One's friends never do care a straw for the young lady on such an +occasion," said Sir Francis. "They regard her as the conquering +enemy, and him as the conquered victim." + +"And you desire a little relaxation from your fetters." + +"Well; just a last flutter." All this had been said with such a +mixture of indifferent badinage on his part, and of serious anger +on hers, that Mrs. Holt, who saw it all and understood it, sat very +uneasy in her chair. "To tell the truth," continued he, "all the +instructions have been given to the lawyers, and I really do think +that I had better be away during the making of the dresses and the +baking of the cake. It has come to pass by this accident of my living +at the Deanery that we have already become almost tired of each +other's company." + +"You might speak for yourself, Sir Francis Geraldine." + +"So I do. For to tell the truth, a man does get tired of this kind of +thing quicker than a woman, and a man of forty much quicker than a +woman of twenty. At any rate I'm off to-morrow." + +There was something in the tone of all this which thoroughly +confirmed her in her purpose. There should come an end to him of his +thraldom. This should not be, by many, the last of his visits to +Goodwood. He should never again have to complain of the trouble given +to him by her company. She sat silent, turning it all over in her +mind, and struggling to think how she might best get her mother +out of the room. She must do it instantly;--now at once. She was +perfectly resolved that he should not leave that house an engaged +man. But she did not see her direct way to the commencement of the +difficult conversation. "Mrs. Holt," said Sir Francis, "don't you +think a little absence will be best for both of us, before we begin +the perilous voyage of matrimony together?" + +"I am sure I don't know," said poor Mrs. Holt. + +"There can't be a doubt about it," continued the lover. "I have +become so stupid, that I hardly know how to put one foot before the +other, and Cecilia is so majestical that her dignity is growing to be +almost tedious." + +"Mamma," said Cecilia after a pause, "as Sir Francis is going +to-morrow, would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes? There +is something which I have to say to him." + +"Oh, certainly, my dear," said Mrs. Holt, as she got up and left the +room. + +Now had come the moment, the difficult moment in which Cecilia Holt +had to remodel for herself the course of her future life. For the +last month or two she had been the affianced bride of a baronet, and +of a man of fashion. All Exeter had known her as the future Lady +Geraldine. And, more than that, she had learned to regard herself as +the owner of the man, and of his future home. Her imagination had +been active in drawing pictures for herself of the life she was to +live,--pictures which for a time had been rosy-hued. But whatever the +tints may have been, and how far the bright colours may have become +dimmed, it had been as Lady Geraldine, and not as Cecilia Holt that +she had looked in the glass which had shown to herself her future +career. Now, within the last four-and-twenty hours,--for the last +crowning purpose of her resolution was hardly of longer date,--she +had determined to alter it all. But he as yet did not know it. He +still regarded her as his affianced bride. Now had come the moment in +which the truth must be told to him. + +As soon as her mother left the room, she got up from her seat, as +did also her lover. He, as soon as the door was closed, at once +attempted to put his arm round the girl's waist, as was his undoubted +privilege. She with the gentlest possible motion rejected his +embrace, and contrived to stand at a little distance from him. But +she said nothing. The subject to be discussed was so difficult that +words would not come to her assistance. Then he lent her his aid. +"You do not mean that you're in a tiff because of what I said just +now. Of course it is better that we should not be together for the +few days before our marriage." + +"I do not think that I am in a tiff, Sir Francis. I hope I am not, +because what I have to say is too serious for ill-humour." Then she +paused. "What I have got to say is of some importance;--of very great +importance. Sir Francis Geraldine, I feel that I have to ask you to +forgive me." + +"What on earth is the matter?" + +"You may well ask. And, indeed, I do not know how to excuse +myself. Your friends will say that I am frivolous, and vain, and +discontented." + +"What the mischief is it all about?" he demanded with an angry voice. + +She knew she had not as yet told him. She could perceive that he had +not gathered from her first words any inkling of the truth; and yet +she did not know how to tell him. If it were once told she could, she +thought, defend herself. But the difficulty was to find the words by +which she could let him know what was her intention. "Sir Francis, I +fear that we have misunderstood each other." + +"How misunderstood? Why Sir Francis? Am I to understand that you want +to quarrel with me because I am going away? If so speak it out. I +shall go just the same." + +"Your going has no bearing upon my present purpose. I had made up my +mind before I had heard of your going;--only when I did hear of it it +became necessary that I should tell you at once." + +"But you have told me nothing. I hate mysteries, and secrets, and +scenes. There is nothing goes against the grain so much with me as +tragedy airs. If you have done anything amiss that it is necessary +that I should know let me know it at once." As he said this there +came across his brow a look of anger and of hot ill-humour, such as +she had never seen there before. The effect was to induce her to +respect him rather than to be afraid of him. It was well that a man +should have the power and the courage to show his anger. + +But it encouraged her to proceed with her task. She certainly was not +afraid of him personally, though she did dread what the world might +say of her, and especially what might be said by his friends. "I do +not know that I have done anything amiss of which I need tell you," +she said with quiet dignity. "It is rather that which I intend to do. +I fear, Sir Francis, that you and I have made a mistake in this." + +"What mistake?" he shouted. "While you beat about the bush I shall +never understand you." + +"In our proposed marriage." + +"What?" + +"I fear that I should not make you happy." + +"What on earth do you mean?" Then he paused a moment before he +continued, which he did as though he had discovered suddenly the +whole secret. "You have got another lover." + +There was something in the idea so shocking to Cecilia, so +revolting,--so vulgar in the mode of expression, that the feeling +at once gave her the strength necessary to go on with her task. She +would not condescend to answer the accusation, but at once told her +story in plain language. "I think, Sir Francis Geraldine, that you do +not feel for me the regard that would make me happy as your wife. Do +not interrupt me just at present," she said, stopping him, as some +exclamation was escaping from his lips. "Hear me to the end, and, if +you have ought to say, I will then hear you. Of my own regard for you +I will say nothing. But I think that I have been mistaken as to your +nature. In fact, I feel sure that we are neither of us that which the +other supposed. It is lamentable that we should have fallen into such +an error, but it is well that even yet we can escape from it before +it is too late. As my mind is altogether made up, I can only ask your +pardon for what I have done to you, expressing myself sure at the +same time that I am now best consulting your future happiness." + +During this last speech of Cecilia's, Sir Francis had sat down, +while she still stood in her old place. He had seated himself on the +sofa, assuming as it were a look of profound ease, and arranging the +nails of one hand with the fingers of the other, as though he were +completely indifferent to the words spoken to him. "Have you done +yet?" he said as soon as she was silent. + +"Yes, I have done." + +"And you are sure that if I begin you will not interrupt me till I +have done?" + +"I think not,--if there be ought that you have to say." + +"Well, considering that ten minutes since I was engaged to make you +Lady Geraldine, and that I am now supposed to be absolved from any +such necessity, I presume you will think it expedient that I should +say something. I suppose that I have not been told the whole truth." +Then he stopped, as though in spite of his injunction as to her +silence he expected an answer from her. But she made none, though +there came a cloud of anger upon her face. "I suppose, I say, that +there is something of which it is not considered necessary that I +should be informed. There must be something of the kind, or you would +hardly abandon prospects which a few days since appeared to you to be +so desirable." + +"I have not thought it necessary to speak of your temper," she said. + +"Nor of your own." + +"Nor of my own," she added. + +"But there is, I take it, something beyond that. I do not think that +my temper, bad as it may be,--nor your own,--would have sufficed to +estrange you. There must be something more palpable than temper to +have occasioned it. And though you have not thought fit to tell me, +you must feel that my position justifies me in asking. Have you +another lover?" + +"No," she exclaimed, burning with wrath but with head so turned from +him that he should not see her. + +"Nor have ever had one? I am entitled to ask the question, though +perhaps I should have asked it before." + +"You are at any rate not entitled to ask it now. Sir Francis +Geraldine, between you and me all is over. I can only beg you to +understand most positively that all is over." + +"My dear Miss Holt, you need not insist upon that, as it is perfectly +understood." + +"Then there need be no further words. If I have done you any wrong I +ask your pardon. You have wronged me only in your thoughts. I must +take what consolation I can from the feeling that the injury will +fall chiefly upon my head and not upon yours." Then without a further +word of farewell she marched out of the room. + +Sir Francis, when he found himself alone, shook himself, as it were, +as he rose from the sofa, and looked about the room in amazement. It +was quite true that she was gone--gone, as far as he was concerned, +for ever. It did not occur to him for a moment that there could be +any reconciliation between them, and his first feeling undoubtedly +was one of amazed disappointment. Then, standing there in Mrs. Holt's +drawing-room, he began to bethink himself what could have been the +cause of it. Since the first week of his engagement he had begun and +had continued to tell himself what great things he was about to do +for Cecilia Holt. With her beauty, her grace, her dignity, and her +accomplishments he was quite satisfied. It was expedient that he +should marry, and he did not know that he could marry much better. +Cecilia, when her mother died, would have twenty thousand pounds, +and that in his eyes had been sufficient. But he was about to make +her Lady Geraldine, and the more that he thought of this, the more +grateful it had appeared to him that she should be to him. Then by +degrees, while he had expected from her expressions of gratitude, +she had rebelled against him! Of the meaning of this he had not been +quite conscious, but had nevertheless felt it necessary that he +should dominate her spirit. Up to the moment in which this interview +had begun he had thought that he was learning to do so. She had not +dared to ask him questions which would have been so natural, or to +demand from him services to which she was entitled. It was thus that +he had regarded her conduct. But he had never feared for a moment but +that he was on the road to success. Up to the moment at which he had +entered the room he had thought that he was progressing favourably. +His Cecilia was becoming tame in his hands, as was necessary. He +had then been altogether taken aback and surprised by her statement +to him, and could not for some moments get over his feeling of +amazement. At last he uttered a low whistle, and then walked slowly +out of the house. At the front door he found his horse, and, mounting +it, rode back into Exeter. As he did so he began to inquire of +himself whether this step which the girl had determined to take was +really a misfortune to him or the reverse. He had hardly as yet asked +himself any such question since the day on which he had first become +engaged to her. He had long thought of marrying, and one girl after +another had been rejected by him as he had passed them in review +through his thoughts. Then had come Cecilia's turn, and she had +seemed to answer the purpose. There had been about her an especial +dignity which had suited his views of matrimonial life. She was a +young woman as to whom all his friends would say that he had done +well in marrying her. But by degrees there had come upon him a +feeling of the general encumbrance of a wife. Would she not interfere +with him? Would she not wish to hinder him when he chose to lead a +bachelor's life? Newmarket for instance, and his London clubs, and +his fishing in Norway,--would she not endeavour to set her foot +upon them? Would it not be well that he should teach her that she +would not be allowed to interfere? He had therefore begun to teach +her,--and this had come of it! It had been quite unexpected, but +still he felt as though he were released from a burden. + +He had accused her of having had another lover. At the moment an idea +had passed through his mind that she was suddenly prompted by her +conscience to tell him something that she had hitherto concealed. +There had been some lover, probably, as to whom everyone had been +silent to him. He was a jealous man, and for a moment he had been +hurt. He would have said that his heart had been hurt. There was but +little of heart in it, for it may be doubted whether he had ever +loved her. But there was something pricked him which filled him for +the instant with serious thoughts. When he had asked the question he +wished to see her at his feet. There had come no answer, and he told +himself that he was justified in thinking the surmise to be true. He +was justified to himself, but only for the moment, for at the next +had come her declaration that all was to be over between them. The +idea of the lover became buried under the ruins which were thus made. + +So she intended to escape from him! But he also would escape +from her. After all, what an infinite trouble would a wife be to +him,--especially a wife of whose docility in harness he was not quite +assured. But there came upon him as he rode home an idea that the +world would say that he had been jilted. Of course he would have been +jilted, but there would be nothing in that except as the world might +speak of it. It was gall to him to have to think that the world of +Exeter should believe that Cecilia Holt had changed her mind, and had +sent him about his business. If the world of Exeter would say that +he had ill-used the girl, and had broken off the engagement for +mere fancy,--as she had done,--that would be much more endurable. +He could not say that such was the case. To so palpable a lie the +contradiction would be easy and disgraceful. But could he not so +tell the story as to leave a doubt on the minds of the people? That +question of another lover had not been contradicted. Thinking of it +again as he rode home he began to feel that the lover must be true, +and that her conduct in breaking off the engagement had been the +consequence. There had been some complication in the way of which +she had been unable to rid herself. At any rate it was quite out of +the question that he should have held himself to such an engagement, +complicated as it would have been with such a lover. There would be +some truth, therefore, in so telling the story as to leave the matter +in doubt, and in doubt he resolved that he would leave it. Before +he got back to the Deanery he was, he thought, thoroughly glad that +he should have been enabled so easily to slip his neck out of the +collar. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE END OF THAT EPISODE. + + +Cecilia during the following day told no one what had occurred, nor +on the morning of the next. Indeed she did not open her mouth on +the subject till Maude Hippesley came to her. She felt that she +was doing wrong to her mother by keeping her in the dark, but she +could not bring herself to tell it. She had, as she now declared +to herself, settled the question of her future life. To live with +her mother,--and then to live alone, must be her lot. She had been +accustomed, before the coming of Sir Francis, to speak of this as +a thing certain; but then it had not been certain, had not been +probable, even to her own mind. Of course lovers would come till the +acceptable lover should be accepted. The threats of a single life +made by pretty girls with good fortunes never go for much in this +world. Then in due time the acceptable lover had come, and had been +accepted. + +And to what purpose had she put him? She could not even now say of +what she accused him, having rejected him. What excuse could she +give? What answer could she allege? She was more sure than ever now +that she could not live with him as his wife. He had said words about +some former lover which were not the less painful, in that there had +been no foundation for them. There had in truth been nothing for her +to tell Sir Francis Geraldine. Out of her milk-white innocency no +confession was to be made. But what there was had all been laid bare +to him. There had been no lover,--but if there had, then there would +have been a lie told. She had said that there had been none, and he +had heard her assertion with those greedy ears which men sometimes +have for such telling. It was a comfort to him that there had been +none; and when something uncomfortable came in his way he immediately +thought that she had deceived him. She must bear with all that now. +It did not much matter, she assured herself, what he might think of +her. But for the moment she could hardly endure to think of it, much +less to talk of it. She did not know how to own to her mother that +she was simply a jilt without offering anything in excuse. The truth +must be told, but, oh, how bitter must the truth be! Even that +accusation as to the lover had not been made till after she had +resolved to reject him; and she could not bring herself to lie to her +mother by pretending that the one had caused the other. + +After lunch on the second day Maude Hippesley came down and found her +amongst the trees in the shrubbery. It will be remembered that Maude +was niece to Sir Francis, and was at the present time living in the +same house with him. "Cecilia," she said, "what is this that has +happened?" + +"He has told you then?" + +"What is it? He has told us all that you have quarrelled, and now he +has gone away." + +"Thank God for that!" + +"Yes;--he has gone. But he told us only just as he went. And he has +made a mystery of it,--so that I do not know how it has happened,--or +why." + +"Did I not tell you?" + +"Yes;--you told me something--something that made me think you mad. +But it is he that has rejected you now!" + +"Has he told you that?" + +"He has told us all so, just as he was leaving us. After his things +were packed up he told us." Cecilia stood still and looked into her +friend's face. Maude she knew could say nothing to her that was not +true. "He has made a mystery of it, but that has been the impression +he has left upon us. At any rate there has been a quarrel." + +"Yes;--there has been a quarrel." + +"And now our only business is to make it up. It is impossible that +two people who have loved each other as you have done should be +allowed to part in so absurd a manner. It is like two children who +think they are never to be friends again because of some momentary +disagreement." Maude Hippesley, who had not lived in the same town +with her lover and therefore had never quarrelled with him, was +awfully wise. "It is quite out of the question," she continued, +"that this thing should go on. I don't think it matters in the least +whether you quarrel with him or he with you. But of course you must +make it up. And as you are the woman it is only proper that you +should begin." + +How much had Cecilia to do before she could prove to her friend that +no such beginning was possible. In the first place there was the +falsehood, the base falsehood, which Sir Francis had told. In order +to save himself he had declared that he had rejected her. It was +very mean. At this moment its peculiar meanness made her feel doubly +sure that the man was altogether unfitted to be her husband. But she +would allow the false assertion to pass unnoticed. If he could find a +comfort in that let him have it. Perhaps upon the whole it would be +better that some such story should go forth in Exeter. It could not +be told by her because it was untrue; but for the moment she thought +that she might pass it by without notice. "There can be no fresh +beginning," she said. "We two have already come to the end of all +that is likely to take place between us. Dear Maude, pray do not +trouble me. No doubt as time goes by we shall talk of it all again. +But just at present, circumstanced as you are with him, nothing but +silence between you and me can be fitting. I hope that you and I at +any rate will never quarrel." + +After that she told her mother and her two other friends. Her mother +was for a week or two in despair. She endeavoured by means of the +family at the Deanery to bring about some reconciliation. The Dean, +who did not in truth like his brother-in-law and was a little afraid +of him, altogether refused to interfere in the matter. Mrs. Hippesley +was of opinion that the lovers would be sure to "come round" if left +to themselves. Maude who, though she had not liked her uncle, had +thought much of his position, and had been proud of the idea that +he should marry an Exeter girl and her own peculiar friend, was in +despair. But the Deanery collectively refused to take active steps in +the matter. Mrs. Green was of opinion that Cecilia must have behaved +badly. There had been some affair of pride in which she had declined +to give way. According to Mrs. Green's ideas a woman could hardly +yield too much to a man before marriage, so as to secure him, in +order that her time for management might come afterwards. With Miss +Altifiorla, Cecilia found for awhile more comfort; but even from this +noted hater of the other sex the comfort was not exactly of the kind +she wanted. Miss Altifiorla was of opinion that men on the whole are +bad, but seemed to think that among men this baronet was not a bad +specimen. He did not want a great deal of attention and was fairly +able to get about by himself without calling upon his future wife to +be always with him. Then he had a title and an income and a house; +and was in short one of those who are in a measure compelled to +marry. Miss Altifiorla thought it a pity that the match should be +broken off, but was quite ready to console her friend as to the +misfortune. + +There was one point as to which Cecilia was quite decided, and +in this Miss Altifiorla bore her out altogether. That question +of marriage was now settled once and for ever. Cecilia, much in +opposition to her friend's wishes, had tried her hand at it and had +failed. She had fallen grievously to the ground and had bruised +herself dreadfully in making the attempt. It had perhaps been +necessary, as Miss Altifiorla thought. It is not given to all to +know their own strength as it had been given to her. They had often +discussed these matters, and Miss Altifiorla had always been very +firm. So had Cecilia been firm; but then she had given way, had +broken down, had consented to regard herself as a mere woman and no +stronger than other women. She had given herself to a man in order +that she might be the mother of his children and the head servant +in his household. She had shown herself to be false for the moment +to her great principles. But Providence had intervened. It may be +surmised that Miss Altifiorla in discussing the matter with herself +did not use the word Providence. Nor was it Chance. And as the +rejection had come from the gentleman's hands,--so Miss Altifiorla +was taught to believe,--she could not boast that Cecilia had +accomplished it. But some mysterious agency had been at work which +would not permit so exceptional a young lady as Miss Holt to fall +into the common quagmire of marriage. She had escaped,--thanks to the +mysterious agency, and must be doubly, trebly, armed with resolution +lest she should stumble again. "I think," she said one day to +Cecilia, "I think that you have great cause to be thankful that he +should have repented of his bargain before it was too late." + +Flesh is flesh after all and human nature no stronger than human +nature. Cecilia had consented to bear in silence the idea that +she had been jilted, and had endured her mother's tender little +sympathies on the subject. But there was a difficulty to her in +suffering this direct statement from her friend. Why would not her +friend let the matter be passed by in silence? "It is well," she +said, "that we both repented." + +Now the subject had been much discussed in Exeter--whether Sir +Francis had jilted Miss Holt or Miss Holt Sir Francis. It had been +always present to Miss Hippesley's mind, that her friend had told +her of her intention at a time when she was quite sure that Sir +Francis had no such notion in his head. And when, on the day but one +following, she had told Cecilia of the statement which Sir Francis +had made at the Deanery, Cecilia had not contradicted it, but had +expressed her surprise. She therefore had resolved to decide the +question against her uncle, and had given rise to the party who were +on that side. But the outside world were strongly of opinion that +Sir Francis had been the first offender. It was so much the more +probable. Miss Altifiorla had always taken that side, and had spoken +everywhere of him as the great sinner. Still however there was a +doubt in her own mind, as to which she was desirous of receiving such +solution as Cecilia could give her. She was determined now to push +the question. "But," said she, "I suppose it originated with him? It +is a great thing for us to feel that you have not been to blame at +all in the matter." + +"I have been to blame," said Cecilia. + +"But how? The man comes here and proposes himself; and is accepted, +and then breaks away from his engagement without reason and without +excuse. It is a thing to be thankful for, that he should have done +so; but we have also to be thankful that the fault has not been on +our side." Miss Altifiorla had almost brought herself to believe +that the man had made love to her, and proposed to her, that she in +a moment of weakness had accepted him, and that she now had been +luckily saved by his inconstancy. + +"I think we will drop that part of the question," said Miss Holt, +showing by her manner that she did not choose to be cross-questioned. +"In such cases there is generally fault on both sides." Then there +was nothing further said on the subject, but Miss Altifiorla pondered +much over her friend's weakness in not being able to confess that she +had been jilted. + +All this had happened in the summer. During the gala days of the +projected wedding plans had been made, of course, for the honeymoon. +Sir Francis with his bride were to go here and to go there, and poor +Mrs. Holt had been fated to remain at home as though no arrangement +had been necessary for her happiness. Indeed none had been necessary. +She was quite content to remain at Exeter and expect such excitement +as might come to her from letters from Lady Geraldine. To talk to +everybody around her about Lady Geraldine would have sufficed for +her. And when all these hopes were broken up and it had been really +decided that there should be no wedding, when it became apparent that +Cecilia Holt was to remain as Cecilia Holt, still there was no autumn +tour. Cecilia had declared that in no place would life be so quiet +for her as at home. "Mamma," she had said, "let us prepare ourselves +for what is to come. You and I mean to live together happily, and our +life must be a home life!" Then she applied herself specially to the +flowers and the shrubs, and began even to look after the vegetables +in the fulness of her energy. In these days she did not see much +of her three friends. In August Maude was married and became Mrs. +Thorne. Mr. Thorne was the eldest son of a Squire from Honiton for +whom things were to be made modestly comfortable during his father's +life. Maude's coming marriage had not been counted as much during the +days of her friend's high hopes, but had risen in consideration since +the fall which had taken place. Between Miss Altifiorla and Cecilia +there had come, not a quarrel, but a coolness. The two ladies did +continue to see each other occasionally, but there was but little +between them to console misery. Miss Altifiorla had attempted +to resume her position of equality,--unreasoned and imaginary +equality,--with perhaps a slight step in advance to which in their +present circumstances she was entitled by their age. Cecilia cared +nothing for equality, but would not consent to be held to have lost +anything. Though Miss Altifiorla declared that her friend had risen +very highly in her sentiments, there was too evidently a depreciation +in her manner; and this Cecilia could not endure. Consequently the +two ladies were not, at this period, of much comfort one to the +other. With Mrs. Green matters might have been different; but Mrs. +Green too manifestly thought that Cecilia had been wrong, and still +clung to the idea that with proper management the baronet might be +made to come back again. With a lady holding such ideas as these +there could be no sympathy. + +In owning the truth it must be confessed that Cecilia at this period +of her life was too self-conscious. She did not think, but felt, that +the world all around her was suffused by a Holt-Geraldine aspect and +flavour. She could not walk abroad without an idea that the people +whom she saw were talking about her. She could not shut herself in +her garden without a conviction that the passers-by were saying that +the girl living there had been jilted by Sir Francis Geraldine. She +had been well aware of the greatness of the position in which she +was to have been placed; and though she had abandoned the situation +without a doubt as soon as she had learned her mistake as to the +man's character, still she felt the fall, and inwardly grieved over +it. She had not known herself at first,--how grievous would be her +isolation when she found herself alone. Such was the case with +her now, so that she fretted and made herself ill. By degrees she +confined herself more and more to the house, till her mother seeing +it, interfered. She became sick, captious, and querulous. The old +family doctor interfered and advised that she should be taken away +from Exeter. "For ever?" asked Mrs. Holt. The doctor did not say for +ever. Mrs. Holt might probably be able to let the house for a year +and go elsewhere for that period. Then there arose questions as to +all the pretty furniture, and their household goods. Cecilia herself +was most unwilling. But before Christmas came, arrangements had been +made, and the house was let, and the first of January saw Mrs. Holt +and her daughter comfortably established in a pension at Nice. Mrs. +Holt at any rate declared that she was comfortable, though Cecilia +on her mother's behalf stated it to be impossible. She herself told +herself,--though she had whispered no word on the subject to living +ears,--she herself told herself that she had been driven abroad by +the falsehood which Sir Francis had told. She could not bear to live +in Exeter as the girl that had been jilted. + +This is the episode in the life of Cecilia Holt which it is necessary +should be first told. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +MR. WESTERN. + + +The Holts travelled about during the whole of that year, passing the +summer in Switzerland and the autumn in the north of Italy, and found +themselves at Rome in November, with the intention of remaining there +for the winter. One place was the same to them as another, and it +was necessary that they should at any rate exist until the term had +expired for which they had let their house. Mrs. Holt had I think +enjoyed her life. She had been made more of than at home, and had +been happy amidst the excitement. But with Cecilia it had been +for many months as though all things had been made of leather and +prunello. She had not cared, or had not seemed to care, for scenery +or for cities. In that last episode of her life she had aspired to +a new career, and had at first been fairly successful. And she had +loved the man honestly for a time, and had buoyed herself up with +great intentions as to the future duties of her life. Then had come +her downfall, in which it was commonly said of her that she had been +jilted by her lover. Even when the mountains of Switzerland had been +so fine before her eyes as in truth to console her by their beauty, +she had not admitted that she was consoled. The Campanile at Florence +had filled her with that satisfaction which comes from supreme +beauty. But still when she went home to her hotel she thought more +of Sir Francis Geraldine than of the Campanile. To have been jilted +would be bad, but to have it said of her that she had been jilted +when she was conscious that it was untrue was a sore provocation. +And yet no one could say but that she had behaved well and been +instigated by good motives. She had found that her lover was ignoble, +and did not love her. And she had at once separated herself from him. +And, since that, in all her correspondence with her friends she had +quietly endured the idea which would continually crop up that she had +been jilted. She never denied it; but it was the false accusation +rather than the loss of all that her marriage had promised her +which made her feel the Matterhorn and the Campanile to be equally +ineffective. Then there gradually came to her some comfort from a +source from which she had certainly not expected it. On their travels +they had become acquainted with a Mr. Western, a silent, shy, almost +middle-aged man, whom they had sat next to at dinner for nearly a +week before they had become acquainted with him. But they had passed +on from scenery to city, and, as had been their fortune, Mr. Western +had passed on with them. Who does not know the way in which some +strange traveller becomes his friend on a second or a third meeting +in some station or hotel saloon? In this way Mrs. Holt and Cecilia +had become acquainted with Mr. Western, and on parting with him at +Venice in October had received with gratification the assurance that +he would again "turn up" in Rome. + +"He is a very good sort of man," said Mrs. Holt to her daughter that +night. Cecilia agreed, but with perhaps less enthusiasm than her +mother had displayed. For Mrs. Holt the assertion had been quite +enthusiastic. But Cecilia did think that Mr. Western had made himself +agreeable. He was an unmarried man, however, and there had been +something in the nature of a communication which he had made to her, +that had prevented her from being loud in his praise. Not that the +communication had been one which had in any way given offence; but it +had been unexpected, confidential, and of such a nature as to create +much thought. No doubt an intimacy had sprung up between them. But +yet it was singular that a man apparently so reticent as Mr. Western +should make such a communication. How the intimacy had grown by +degrees need not here be explained, but that it had grown to be very +close will appear from the nature of the story told. + +The story was one of Mr. Western's own life and was as follows. He +was a man of good but not of large fortune. He had been to Oxford +and had there distinguished himself. He had been called to the bar +but had not practised. He had gone into Parliament, but had left it, +finding that the benches of the House of Commons were only fitted for +the waste of time. He had joined scientific societies to which he +still belonged, but which he did not find to be sufficient for his +happiness. During these attempts and changes he had taken a house in +London, and having a house had thought it well to look for a wife. +He had become engaged to a certain Miss Mary Tremenhere, and by +her he had been--jilted. Since that, for twelve months he had been +travelling abroad in quest, he said, not of consolation, but of some +mitigation of his woe. Cecilia, when she heard this, whispered to +him one little question, "Do you love her?" "I thought I did," he +answered. And then the subject was dropped. + +It was a most singular communication for him to make. Why should he, +an elderly man as she at first took him to be, select her as the +recipient for such a tale? She took him to be an elderly man, till +she found by the accidents of conversation that he was two years +younger than Sir Francis Geraldine. Then she looked into his face and +saw that that appearance of age had come upon him from sorrow. There +was a tinge of grey through his hair, and there were settled lines +about his face, and a look of steadied thought about his mouth, which +robbed him of all youth. But when she observed his upright form, and +perceived that he was a strong stalwart man, in the very pride of +manhood as far as strength was concerned,--then she felt that she +had wronged him. Still he was one who had suffered so much as to be +entitled to be called old. She felt the impossibility of putting +him in the same category among men as that filled by Sir Francis +Geraldine. The strength of manhood was still there, but not the salt +of youth. But why should he have told her,--her who had exactly the +same story to tell back again, if only she could tell it? Once or +twice there came to her an idea that she would tell it. He had sought +for sympathy, not under the assurance of secrecy but with the full +conviction, as she felt it, that his secret would be safe. Why should +not she do the same? That there would be great comfort in doing so +she was well aware. To have some one who would sympathise with her! +Hitherto she had no one. Even her mother, who was kindness, even +obedience itself, who attended to her smallest wish, even her mother +regretted the baronet son-in-law. "And yet she would have been left +all alone," she said to herself, marvelling at the unselfish fondness +of a mother. Mr. Western would be bound to sympathise. Having called +upon her for sympathy, his must be ready. But when she had thought of +it thrice she did not do it. Were she to tell her story it would seem +as though she were repeating to him back his own. "I too have been in +love, and engaged, and have jilted a gentleman considerably my senior +in age." She would have to say that, likening herself to the girl who +had jilted him,--or else to tell the other story, the untrue story, +the story which the world believed, in order that she might be on a +par with him. This she could not do. If she told any she must tell +the truth, and the truth was not suitable to be told. Therefore she +kept her peace, and sympathised with a one-sided sympathy. + +In Rome they did again meet, and on this occasion they met as quite +old friends. He called upon them at their hotel and sat with them, +happier than usual in his manner, and, for him, almost light and gay +of heart. Parties were made to St. Peter's, and the Coliseum, and the +Capitol. When he left on that occasion Cecilia remarked to her mother +how much less triste he was than usual. "Men, I suppose," she said to +herself, "get over that kind of thing quicker than women." + +In Rome it seemed to Cecilia that Mr. Western, when alone with her, +had no other subject for conversation than the ill-treatment he had +received from Mary Tremenhere. His eagerness in coming back to the +subject quite surprised her. She herself was fascinated by it, but +yet felt it would be better were she to put a stop to it. There was +no way of doing this unless she were to take her mother from Rome. +She could not tell him that on that matter he had said enough, nor +could she warn him that so much of confidential intercourse between +them would give rise in the minds of others to erroneous ideas. Her +mother never seemed to see that there was anything peculiar in their +intercourse. And so it went on from day to day and from week to week. + +"You asked me once whether I loved her," he said one day. "I did; +but I am astonished now that it should have been so. She was very +lovely." + +"I suppose so." + +"The most perfect complexion that was ever seen on a lady's cheek." +Cecilia remembered that her complexion too had been praised before +this blow had fallen upon her. "The colour would come and go so +rapidly that I used to marvel what were the thoughts that drove the +blood hither and thither. There were no thoughts,--unless of her own +prettiness and her own fortunes. She accepted me as a husband because +it was necessary for her to settle in life. I was in Parliament, and +that she thought to be something. I had a house in Chester Square, +and that was something. She was promised a carriage, and that +conquered her. As the bride I had chosen for myself she became known +to many, and then she began to understand that she might have done +better with herself. I am old, and not given to many amusements. Then +came a man with a better income and with fewer years; and she did +not hesitate for a moment. When she took me aside and told me that +she had changed her mind, it was her quiescence and indifference +that disturbed me most. There was nothing of her new lover; but +simply that she did not love me. I did not stoop for a moment to a +prayer. I took her at her word, and left her. Within a week she was +acknowledged to be engaged to Captain Geraldine." + +The naming of the name of course struck Cecilia Holt. She remembered +to have heard something of the coming marriage by her lover's cousin, +and something, too, of the story of the girl. But it had reached her +ear in the lightest form, and had hardly remained in her memory. It +was now of no matter, as she had determined to keep her own history +to herself. Therefore she made no exclamation when the name of +Geraldine was mentioned. + +"How could I love her after that?" he continued, betraying the strong +passion which he felt. "I had loved a girl whose existence I had +imagined, and of whom I had seen merely the outward form, and had +known nothing of the inner self. What is it that we love?" he +continued. "Is it merely the coloured doll, soft to touch and +pleasant to kiss? Or is it some inner nature which we hope to +discover, and of which we have found the outside so attractive? I had +found no inner self which it had been possible that I could love. He +was welcome to the mere doll who was wanted simply that she should +grace his equipage. I have asked myself, Why is it that I am so +sorely driven, seeing that in truth I do not love her? I would not +have her now for all the world. I know well how providential has been +my escape. And yet I go about like a wounded animal, who can find +none to consort with him. Till I met you, and learnt to talk to you, +I was truly miserable. And why? Because I had been saved from falling +when standing on a precipice! Because the engine had not been allowed +to crush me when passing along on its iron road! Ought I not to +rejoice and be thankful rather, as I think of what I have escaped? +But in truth it is the poor weakness of human nature. People say that +I have been--jilted. What matters it to me what people say? I have +been saved, and as time goes on I shall know it and be thankful." + +Every word of it came home to her and gave her back her own story. +There was her own soreness, and her own salvation. There was the +remembrance of what the people in Exeter were saying of her, only +slightly relieved by the conviction that she had been preserved from +a life of unhappiness. But she had never been able to look at it +quite as he did. He knew that the better thing had happened to him; +but she, though she knew it also, was sore at heart because people +told the story, as she thought, to her discredit. There was, indeed, +this difference between them. It was said truly of him that the girl +had jilted him, but falsely of her that she had been jilted. + +She, however, told him nothing of her own life. There had come +moments in which she was sorely tempted. But she had allowed them to +pass by, telling herself on each occasion that this at any rate was +not the moment. She could not do it now,--or now,--or now, lest there +should seem to be some peculiar motive on her own part. And so the +matter went on till there had arisen a feeling of free confidence on +the one side, and of absolute restraint on the other. She could not +do it, she said to herself. Much as she trusted Mr. Western, deeply +as she regarded him as her friend, strongly as she wished that the +story had been told to him at some former passage of their intimacy, +the proper time had passed by, she said, and he must be left in his +ignorance. + +Then one day there happened that which the outside world at Rome +had long expected; and among the number Mrs. Holt. George Western +proposed to marry Cecilia Holt. Of all the world at Rome who had +watched the two together she probably was the last who thought of any +such idea. But even to her the idea must surely have come in some +shape before the proposal. He had allowed her to feel that he was +only happy in her company, and he had gradually fallen into the habit +of confiding to her in everything. He had told her of his money, +and of his future life. He had consulted her about his books, +and pictures he had bought, and even about the servants of his +establishment. She cannot but have expected it. But yet when the +moment came she was unable to give him an answer. + +It was not that she did not think that she liked him. She had been +surprised to find how fond she had gradually become of him;--how Sir +Francis had faded in her memory, and had become a poor washed-out +daub of a man while this other had grown into the proportions of a +hero. She did not declare to herself that she loved him, but she +was sure that she could do so. But two reasons did for a while make +her feel that she could not accept him. The one was weak as water, +but still it operated with her. Since she had been abroad she had +corresponded regularly with Miss Altifiorla, and Miss Altifiorla in +her letters had been very strong in her aversion to matrimony. Many +things had been said apparently with the intention of comforting +Cecilia, but written in truth with the view of defending herself. "I +have chosen the better side, and have been true to it without danger +of stumbling." So it was that Miss Altifiorla put it. "You, dearest +Cecilia, have had an accident, but have recovered and stand once more +upon the solid ground. Take care, oh, take care, that you do not +fall!" Cecilia did not remember that any chance of stumbling had come +in Miss Altifiorla's way; and was upon the whole disgusted by the +constancy of her friend's arguments. But still they did weigh, and +drove her to ask herself whether, in truth, an unmarried life was not +the safer for a woman. But the cause which operated the strongest +with her was the silence which she had herself maintained. There was +indeed no reason why she should not at once begin and tell her story. +But in doing so it would appear that she had been induced to do it +only by Mr. Western's offer. And she cheated herself by some vague +idea that she would be telling the secrets of another person. "Had +it been for myself only," she said to herself, "I would have done it +long since. But that which made it improper then would make it still +more improper now." And so she held her peace and told Mr. Western +nothing of the story. + +He came to her the day after his offer and demanded her answer. But +she was not as yet able to give it to him. She had in the meantime +told her mother, and had received from her that ready, willing, quick +assurance of her sanction which was sure to operate in a different +way than that intended. Her mother was thinking only of her material +interests,--of a comfortable house and a steady, well-to-do life's +companion. Of what more should she have thought? the reader will +say. But Cecilia had still in her head undefined, vague notions of +something which might be better than that,--of some companion who +might be better than the companions which other girls generally +choose for themselves. She dreamed of some one who should sit with +her during the long mornings and read Dante to her,--when she should +have taught herself to understand it; of some one with a hidden +nobility of character which should be all but divine. Her invectives +against matrimony had all come from a fear lest the man with the +hidden nobility should not be forthcoming. She had tried, or had +nearly tried, Sir Francis Geraldine, and had made one hideous +mistake. Was or was not this Mr. Western a man with all such hidden +nobility? If so she thought that she might love him. + +She required a week, and gave her whole thoughts to the object. +Should she or should she not abandon that mode of life to which +she had certainly pledged herself? In the first days of the misery +created by the Geraldine disruption she had declared that she would +never more open her ears or her heart to matrimonial projects. The +promise had only been made to Miss Altifiorla,--to Miss Altifiorla +and to herself. At the present moment she did not greatly regard Miss +Altifiorla;--but the promise made to herself and corroborated by her +assurance to another, almost overcame her. And then there was that +story which she could not now tell to Mr. Western. She could not say +to him:--"Yes, I will accept you, but you must first hear my tale;" +and then tell him the exact copy of his own to her. And yet it +was necessary that he should know. The time must come,--some day. +Alas! she did not remember that no day could be less painful,--less +disagreeable than the present. If he did not like the story now he +could tell her so, and have done with it. There could be no fault +found with her. It had hitherto been free to her to tell it or not +as she pleased. "I had not meant to have disclosed my secret, but now +it is necessary." Even had he fancied that she had "invented it" in +part and made it like to his own, no harm,--no dangerous harm would +come from that. He could but be angry and recede from his offer. +But she found that she did not wish him to recede. Her objections +to matrimony had all been cured. She told herself at the last +moment that she was not able to undergo the absurdity of such a +revelation,--and she accepted him. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +CECILIA'S SECOND CHANCE. + + +It became at once necessary that Mr. Western should start off for +London. That had been already explained. He would go, whether +accepted or refused. When she had named a week, he had told her that +he should only have just time to wait for her reply. She offered to +be ready in five days, but he would not hurry her. During the week +she had hardly seen him, but she was aware that he remained silent, +moody, almost sullen. She was somewhat afraid of his temper;--but yet +she had found him in other respects so open, so noble, so consistent! +"It shall be so," she said, putting her hand into his. Then his very +nature seemed to have changed. It appeared as though nothing could +restrain him in the expression of his satisfaction. Nothing could be +more quietly joyous than his manner. He was to have left Rome by a +mid-day train, but he would wait for a train at midnight in order +that he might once dine with his own wife that was to be. "You will +kill yourself with the fatigue," Cecilia said. But he laughed at her. +It was not so easy to kill him. Then he sat with her through the +long morning, telling her of the doings of his past life, and his +schemes for the life to come. He had a great book which he wanted to +write,--as to which everybody might laugh at him but she must not +laugh. He laughed at himself and his aspiration; but she promised all +her sympathy, and she told him of their house at Exeter, and of her +mother's future loneliness. He would do anything for her within his +power. Her mother should live with them if she wished it. And she +spoke of the money which was to be her own, and told him of the offer +which her mother had made as to giving up a portion of it. Of this +he would have none. And he told her how it must be settled. And he +behaved just as a lover should do,--taking upon himself to give +directions, but giving all the directions just such as she would have +them. + +Then he went; and there came upon her a cold, chilling feeling that +she had already been untrue to him. It was a feeling as to which +she could not speak, even to her mother. But why had not her mother +advised her and urged her to tell him everything? Her mother had said +not a word to her about it. Why did her mother treat her as though +she were one to be feared, and beyond the possibility of advice? But +to her mother she said not a word on the subject. From the moment in +which Mr. Western had first begun to pay her attention, the name of +Sir Francis had never been mentioned between the mother and daughter. +And now in all their intercourse Mrs. Holt spoke with an unclouded +serenity of their future life. It was to her as though the Geraldine +episode had been absolutely obliterated from the memory of them +all. Mr. Western to her was everything. She would not accept his +magnificent offer of a home, because she knew that an old woman in a +man's house could only be considered as in his way. She would divide +her income, and give at any rate a third to her daughter. And she did +bestow much advice as to the manner in which everything should be +done so as to tend to his happiness. His tastes should be adopted, +and his ways of life should be studied. His pursuits should be made +her pursuits, and his friends her friends. All this was very well. +Cecilia knew all that without any teaching from her mother. Her +instincts told her as much as that. But what was she to do with this +secret which loaded her bosom, but as to which she could not bring +herself even to ask her mother's advice? + +Then she made up her mind that she would write to her lover and +relate the whole story as to Sir Francis Geraldine. And she did +write it; but she was alarmed at finding that the story, when told, +extended itself over various sheets of paper. And the story would +take the shape of a confession,--as though she were telling her lover +of some passage in her life of which she had cause to be ashamed. +She knew that there was no ground for shame. She had done nothing +which she ought not to have done, nothing which she could not have +acknowledged to him without a blush. When the letter was completed, +she found it to be one which she could not send. It was as though she +were telling him something, on reading which he would have to decide +whether their engagement should or should not be continued. This +was not at all her purpose. Thinking of it all with a view to his +happiness, and to his honour, she did not wish him to suppose that +there could be a doubt on that subject. It was clear to her that a +letter so worded was not fit for the occasion, and she destroyed +it. Still she was minded to write to him, but for the moment she +postponed her purpose. Of course she wrote to her friends in Exeter. +Were she to be silent to them it would appear as though she were +ashamed of what she was now doing. She told Maude Hippesley,--or Mrs. +Thorne as she was now called; and she told Mrs. Green, and also Miss +Altifiorla. Immediate answers came from the three. Those from the +two married ladies were in all respects satisfactory. That from Mrs. +Thorne was quite enthusiastic in its praises of matrimony. That from +Mrs. Green was a little less warm, but was still discreetly happy. +She had no doubt in her own mind that a married life was preferable, +and that Mr. Western, though perhaps a little old, was upon the whole +a well-chosen and deserving consort for life. But the letter from +Miss Altifiorla was very different from these, and as it had some +effect perhaps in producing the circumstances which are to be told, +it shall be given at length:-- + +"MY DEAR CECILIA,--I am of course expected to congratulate you, and +as far as Mr. Western's merits are concerned, I do so with my full +heart. He is possessed, I have no doubt, of all those virtues which +should adorn a husband, and is in all respects the very opposite to +Sir Francis Geraldine. You give me to understand that he is steady, +hard-working, and properly ambitious. In spite of the mistake which +you made in reference to Sir Francis Geraldine, I will not doubt but +that your judgment in respect to Mr. Western will be found correct. +If it is to be I dare say it could not be better. But must it be?" +"Of course it must," said Cecilia to herself, feeling very angry with +Miss Altifiorla for raising the question at such a time and in such +a manner. "After all the sweet converse and sweeter resolutions that +have passed between us on this matter, must all be abandoned like +a breath of summer wind, meaning nothing?" Of what infinitely bad +taste was not the woman guilty, in thus raising the question when +the only final answer to it had been already given? Cecilia felt +ashamed of herself as she thought of this, in that she had admitted +the friendship of such a friend. "A breath of summer wind!" she +said, repeating with scorn her friend's somewhat high-flown words. +"I cannot but say that, like Martha, you have chosen the worser +part," continued the letter. "The things of the world, which are in +themselves but accidents, have been for a moment all in all to you; +but knowing you as I do, I am aware how soon they will fade away, +and have no more than their proper weight. Then you will wake some +day, and feel that you have devoted yourself to the mending of his +stockings and the feeding of his babies." There was something in this +which stirred Cecilia to absolute wrath. If there were babies would +they not be her babies as well as his? Was it not the intention of +the Lord that the world should be populated? The worser part, indeed! +Then she took up the cudgels in her own mind on behalf of Martha, as +she had often done before. How would the world get on unless there +were Marthas? And was it not more than probable that a self-dubbed +Mary should fall into idle ways under the pretence that she was +filled with special inspiration? Looking at Miss Altifiorla as a +Mary, she was somewhat in love with the Marthas. + +"I do not doubt that Mr. Western is what he should be," the letter +went on, "but even judging him by your letter, I find that he is +autocratic and self-opinioned. It is his future life and not yours of +which he is thinking, his success and not yours, his doings and not +your doings." "How does she know?" exclaimed Cecilia. "She has only +my account of him, and not his of me." "And he is right in this," +went on the letter, "because the ways of the world allow such +privileges to men. What would a man be unless he took the place +which his personal strength has obtained for him? For women, in the +general, of course matrimony is fit. They have to earn their bread, +and think of little else. To be a man's toy and then his slave, with +due allowance for food and clothes, suffices for them. But I had +dreamed a dream that it would not suffice for you. Alas, alas! I +stand alone now in the expression of my creed. You must excuse me if +I repine, when I find myself so cruelly deserted." + +All this Cecilia felt to be as absurd as it was ill-timed;--and +to be redeemed, as it were, from its ill-nature by its ridiculous +philosophy. But at last there came a paragraph which admitted of +no such excuse. "What has Mr. Western said as to the story of Sir +Francis Geraldine? Of course you have told him the whole, and I +presume that he has pardoned that episode. In spite of the expression +of feelings which I have been unable to control, you must believe, +dear Cecilia, that I am as anxious as ever for your happiness, and +am, + +"Your most affectionate friend, + +"FRANCESCA ALTIFIORLA." + + +Cecilia, when she had completed the reading of the letter, believed +nothing of the kind. That last paragraph about Sir Francis had turned +all her kindly feelings into wrath, and contained one word which she +knew not how to endure. She was told that Mr. Western had "pardoned" +the Geraldine episode in her life. She had done nothing for which +pardon had been necessary. To merit pardon there must have been +misconduct; and as this woman had known all her behaviour in that +matter, what right had she to talk of pardon? In what had she +deserved pardon;--or at any rate the pardon of Mr. Western? There had +been a foolish engagement made between her and Sir Francis Geraldine, +which had been most wisely dissolved. The sin, if sin there had been, +was against Sir Francis, and certainly had never been considered as +sin by this woman who now wrote to her. Was it a sin that she had +loved before, a matter as to which Mr. Western was necessarily in +ignorance when he first came to her? But might it not come to pass +that his pardon should be required in that the story had never been +told to him? It was the sting which came from that feeling which +added fierceness to her wrath. "Of course you have told him the +whole, and I presume that he has pardoned that episode!" She had not +told Mr. Western the whole, and had thus created another episode for +which his pardon might be required. It was this that the woman had +intended to insinuate, understanding with her little sharpness, with +her poor appreciation of character, how probable it was that Cecilia +should not have told him of her previous engagement. + +She sat thinking of it all that night till the matter assumed new +difficulties in her mind's eyesight. And she began to question to +herself whether Mr. Western had a right to her secret,--whether the +secret did not belong to two persons, and she was bound to keep it +for the sake of the other person. She had committed a wrong, an +injury, or at any rate had inflicted a deserved punishment upon Sir +Francis; one as to which a man would naturally much dislike that +it should be noised about the world. Was she not bound to keep her +secret still a secret for his sake? She was angry with herself when +she asked the question, but still she asked it. She knew that she +owed nothing to Sir Francis Geraldine, and that she owed all to Mr. +Western. But still she asked it, because in that way could she best +strengthen herself against the telling of the story. The more she +turned the matter in her mind, the more impossible to her became +the task of telling it. At last she resolved that she would not +tell it now. She would not tell it at any rate till she again saw +him,--because Miss Altifiorla had told her that she "presumed he had +pardoned her that episode." + +It was arranged that they should be married at Exeter in April. Their +house there was not yet vacant, but would be lent to them for a +fortnight. After the marriage Mrs. Holt would go into lodgings, and +remain there till the house should be ready for her. But they were +both to return to Exeter together, and then there would be bustle +and confusion till the happy ceremony should have been performed. It +was arranged that she should have but two bridesmaids, but she was +determined that she would not ask Miss Altifiorla to be one of them. +A younger sister of Mrs. Green and a younger sister also of Maude +Hippesley were chosen. Miss Altifiorla, when she came to see Cecilia +on her return, expressed herself as quite satisfied. "It is best so, +dear," she said. "I was afraid that you would ask me. Of course I +should have done it, but my heart would not have been there. You can +understand it all, I know." Cecilia's wrath had become mitigated by +this time, and she answered her friend civilly. "Just so. You think +I ought to be an old maid, and therefore do not like to lend a hand +at turning me into a young wife. I have got two girls who have no +objection on that score." "You might find a hundred in Exeter," said +Miss Altifiorla proudly, "and yet I may be right in my opinions." + +Mr. Western was to come down to Exeter only on the day before the +marriage. The Holts had seen him as they came through London where +they slept one night, but as yet the story had not been told. Cecilia +expected, almost wished, that the story might reach him from other +quarters. It was so natural now that he should talk about the girl +whom he intended to marry, and so natural,--as Cecilia thought,--that +in doing so he should hear the name of Sir Francis Geraldine. Sir +Francis was a man well known to the world of fashion, and many men +must have heard of his intended marriage. Cecilia, though she almost +hoped, almost feared that it should be so. The figure of Mr. Western +asking with an angry voice why he had not been told did alarm her. +But he asked no such question, nor, as far as Cecilia knew, had he +heard anything of Sir Francis when the Holts passed through London. + +Nor did he seem to have heard it when he came down to Exeter. At any +rate he did not say a word respecting Sir Francis. He spent the last +evening with the Holts in their own house, and Cecilia felt that he +had never before made himself so happy with her, so pleasant, and so +joyous. It had been the same during their long walk together in the +afternoon. He was so full of affairs which were his own, which were +so soon to become her own, that there was not a moment for her in +which she could tell the story. There are stories for the telling of +which a peculiar atmosphere is required, and this was one of them. +She could not interrupt him in the middle of his discourse and +say:--"Oh, by-the-bye,--there is something that I have got to say to +you." To tell the story she must tune her mind to the purpose. She +must begin it in a proper tone, and be sure that he would be ready to +hearken to it as it should be heard. She felt that the telling would +be specially difficult in that it had been put off so long. But +though she had made up her mind to tell it before she had started on +her walk, the desirable moment never came. So she again put it off, +saying that it should be done late at night when her mother had gone +to her bed. The time came when he was alone with her, sitting with +his arm around her waist, telling her of all the things she should do +for him to make his life blessed;--and how he too would endeavour to +do some little things for her in order that her life might be happy. +She would not tell it then. Though little might come of it, she could +not do it. And yet from day to day the feeling had grown upon her +that it was certainly her duty to let him know that one accident in +her life. There was no disgrace in it, no cause for anger on his +part, nor even for displeasure if it had only been told him at Rome. +He could then have taken her, or left her as he pleased. Of course +he would have taken her, and the only trouble of her life would have +been spared her. What possible reason could there have been that he +should not take her? It was not any reason of that kind which had +kept her silent. Of that she was quite confident. Indeed now she +could not explain to herself why she had held her peace. It seemed to +her as though she must have been mad to have let day after day go by +at Rome and never to have mentioned to him the name of Sir Francis +Geraldine. But such, alas! had been the fact. And now the time had +come in which she found it to be impossible to tell the story. As +she went for the last time to her solitary bed she endeavoured to +console herself by thinking that he must have heard of it from other +quarters. But then again she declared that he in his nobility would +certainly not have been silent. He would have questioned her and then +have told her that all was right between them. But now as she tossed +unhappily on her pillow she told herself that all was wrong. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +WHAT ALL HER FRIENDS SAID ABOUT IT. + + +And "all went merry as a marriage bell." George Western and Cecilia +Holt were married in the cathedral by the Dean, who was thus supposed +to show his great anger at his brother-in-law's conduct. And this was +more strongly evinced by the presence of all the Hippesleys;--for all +were there to grace the ceremony except Maude, who was still absent +with her young squire, and who wrote a letter full of the warmest +affection and congratulations, which Cecilia received on that very +morning. Miss Altifiorla also came to the cathedral, with pink bows +in her bonnet, determined to show that though she were left alone in +her theory of life she did not resent the desertion. And Mrs. Green +was there, humble and sweet-tempered as ever, snubbing her husband +a little who assisted at the altar, and whispering a word into her +friend's ears to assure her that she had done the proper thing. + +It is hardly necessary to say that on the morning of her wedding it +was in truth impossible for Cecilia to tell the story. It had now to +be left untold, with what hope there might be for smoothing it over +in some future stage of her married life. She had done the deed now, +and had married the man with the untold secret in her heart. The sin +surely could not be of a nature to weigh so deeply on her conscience! +She endeavoured to comfort herself with that idea again and again. +How many girls are married who have been engaged to, or at least in +love with, half-a-dozen suitors before the man has come who is at +last to be their lord! But Cecilia told herself, as she endeavoured +thus to find comfort, that her nature was not such as theirs. This +thing which she had done was a sin or not a sin, according as it +might be regarded by the person who did it. It was a sin to her, a +heavy, grievous sin, and one that weighed terribly on her conscience +as she repeated the words after the Dean at the altar that morning. +There was a moment in which she almost refused to repeat them,--in +which she almost brought herself to demand that she might retire for +a time with him who was not yet her husband, and give him another +chance. Her mind entertained an exaggerated feeling of it, a feeling +which she felt to be exaggerated but which she could not restrain. +In the meantime the service went on; the irrevocable word was spoken; +and when it was done she was led away into the cathedral vestry as +sad a bride as might be. + +And yet nobody had seen her trouble. With a capacity for struggling, +infinitely greater than that possessed by any man, she had smiled +and looked happy beneath her bridal finery, as though no grief had +weighed heavily at her heart. And he was as jocund a bridegroom +as ever put a ring upon a lady's finger. All that gloom of his, +which had seemed to be his nature till after she had accepted him, +had vanished altogether. And he carried himself with no sheepish, +shame-faced demeanour as though half ashamed of the thing which he +had done. He seemed as proud to be a bridegroom as ever girl was to +become a bride. And in truth he was proud of her and did think that +he had chosen well. After the former troubles of his life he did feel +that he had brought himself to a happy haven at last. + +There was a modest breakfast at Mrs. Holt's house, from which the +guests departed quickly as soon as the bride and bridegroom had been +taken away to the railway station. But when the others were gone +Miss Altifiorla remained,--out of kindness. Mrs. Holt need make no +stranger of her, and it would be so desolate for her to be alone. +So surmised Miss Altifiorla. "I suppose," said she, when she had +fastened up the pink ribbons so that they might not be soiled by the +trifle with which she prepared to regale herself while she asked the +question, "I suppose that he knows all the story about that other +man?" + +"Why should he?" asked Mrs. Holt in a sharp tone that was quite +uncommon to her. + +"Well; I do not know much about such things, but I presume it is +common to tell a gentleman when anything of that kind has occurred." + +"What business has he to know? And what can it matter? Perhaps he +does know it." + +"But Cecilia has not told him?" + +"Why should she tell him? I don't think that it is a thing we need +talk about. You may be quite sure that Cecilia has done what is +proper." In saying this Mrs. Holt belied her own thoughts. Cecilia +had never said a word to her about it, nor had she dared to say +a word to her own daughter on the subject. She had been intently +anxious that her daughter should be married, and when she had seen +Mr. Western in the act of falling in love, had studiously abstained +from all subjects which might bring about a reference to Sir Francis +Geraldine. But she had felt that her daughter would make that all +straight. Her daughter was so much more wise, so much more certain to +do what was right, so much more high-minded than was she, that she +considered herself bound to leave all that to Cecilia. But as the +days went on and the hour fixed for the marriage became nearer and +nearer she had become anxious. Something seemed to tell her that a +duty had been omitted. But the moment had never come in which she had +been able to ask her daughter. And now she would not endure to be +cross-examined on the subject by Miss Altifiorla. + +But Miss Altifiorla was not at all afraid of Mrs. Holt, and was +determined to push the question a little further. "He ought to know, +you know. I am sure Cecilia will have thought that." + +"If he ought to know then he does know," said Mrs. Holt with great +certainty. "I am sure we may leave all that to Cecilia herself. If +he is satisfied with her, it does not matter much who else may be +dissatisfied." + +"Oh, if he is satisfied, that is enough," said Miss Altifiorla as she +took her leave. But she felt sure that the secret had not been told, +and that it ought to have been told, and she felt proud to think +that she had spotted the fault. Cecilia Holt would have done very +well in the world had she confined herself,--as she had solemnly +promised,--to those high but solitary feminine duties to which +Miss Altifiorla had devoted herself. But she had chosen to make +herself the slave of a man who,--as Miss Altifiorla expressed it +to herself,--"would turn upon her and rend her." And she, Miss +Altifiorla, had seen and did see it all. The time might come when the +wounded dove would return to her care. Of course she hoped that the +time would not come;--but it might. + +"I'll tell you one thing," said Mrs. Green to her husband as they +walked home from the breakfast. "That girl has not yet said a word to +that man about Sir Francis Geraldine." + +"What makes you think that, my dear?" + +"Think it! I know it. It was not likely that there should be much +talk about Sir Francis either in the cathedral or at the breakfast; +but one can tell from other things whether a subject has been +avoided. These are plain when little things would have been said but +are not said. There has been no allusion made to their reason for +leaving the house." + +"I don't see that it signifies much, my dear." + +"Oh; doesn't it? What would you have thought if after I had become +engaged to you you had found that a month or two before I had been +engaged to another man?" + +"It is more than twelve months, my dear." + +"No, it is not more than twelve months since first they met in Italy. +I know what I am talking about, and you need not contradict me. +You'll find that he'll learn it of a sudden, and then all the fat +will be in the fire. I know what men are." It was thus that the +gentle Mrs. Green expressed herself on the subject to her husband. + +At the Deanery the matter was spoken of in a different tone but still +with similar feelings. "I don't think Cecilia has ever yet said a +word to that poor man as to her engagement with Francis. I cannot +tell what has put it into my mind, but I think that it is so." It was +thus that Mrs. Hippesley spoke to the Dean. + +"Your brother behaved very badly;--very badly," said the Dean. + +"That has got nothing to do with it. Mr. Western won't care a straw +whether Francis behaved well or ill. And for the matter of that I +don't think that as yet we quite know the truth of it. Nor would he +care if his wife had behaved ill to the other man, so long as she +behaved well to him. But if he has heard nothing of it and now finds +it out, he's not the man I take him to be if he don't let her hear of +it." + +"It's nothing to us," said the Dean. + +"Oh, no; it's nothing to us. But you'll see that what I say comes +true." + +In this way all the world of Cecilia's friends were talking on the +matter which she had mentioned to no one. She still hoped that her +husband might have heard the story, and that he kept it buried in his +bosom. But it never occurred to her that it would become matter of +discussion among her friends at Exeter. + +There was one other person who also discussed it very much at his +ease. Sir Francis Geraldine among his friends in London had been +congratulated on his safe but miraculous escape. With a certain +number of men he had been wont to discuss the chances of matrimony. +Should he die, without having an heir, his title and property would +go to his cousin, Captain Geraldine, who was a man some fifteen years +younger than himself and already in possession of a large fortune. +There were many people in the world whom Sir Francis hated, but none +whom he hated so cordially as his cousin. Three or four years since +he had been ill, nearly to dying, and had declared that he never +would have recovered but for the necessity that he was under to keep +his cousin out of the baronetage. It had therefore become imperative +on him to marry in order that there might be an heir to the property. +And though he had for a few weeks been perfectly contented with his +Cecilia, there could be no doubt that he had experienced keenly the +sense of relief when she had told him that the engagement must be at +an end. Another marriage must be arranged, but there would be time +for that; and he would take care, that on this occasion he would not +put himself into the hands of one who was _exigeante_ and had a will +of her own. "By Gad," he said to his particular friend, Dick Ross, "I +would almost sooner that my cousin Walter had the property than put +it and myself into the hands of such a virago." + +"You'll only get another," said Dick, "that will not let on, but will +turn out to be twice as bad in the washing." + +"That I hardly think probable. There are many things which go to the +choice of a wife, and the worst of it is that they are not compatible +one with another. A woman should be handsome; but then she is proud. +A woman should have a certain air of dignity; but when she has got +it she knows that herself, and shows it off in the wrong place. She +should be young; but if she is too young she is silly: wait a little +and she becomes strong-minded and headstrong. If she don't read +anything she becomes an ass and a bore; but if she do she despises a +man because he is not always doing the same thing. If she is a nobody +the world thinks nothing of her. If she come of high birth she thinks +a deal too much of herself. It is difficult." + +"I'd have nothing to do with any of them," said Dick Ross. + +"And let that puppy come in! He wrote to me to congratulate me on my +marriage, just when he knew it was off." + +"I'll tell you what I'd do," said Dick. "I'd marry some milk-maid and +keep her down on the property. I'd see that it was all done legally, +and I'd take the kid away when he was three or four years old." + +"Everybody would talk about it." + +"Let 'em talk," said Dick heroically. "They couldn't talk you out +of your ease or your pleasure or your money. I never could find out +the harm of people talking about you. They might say whatever they +pleased of me for five hundred a year." + +Then there came the news that Cecilia Holt was going to marry Mr. +Western. The tidings reached Sir Francis while the lovers were still +at Rome. Of Mr. Western Sir Francis knew something. In the first +place his cousin Walter Geraldine had taken away the girl to whom +Mr. Western had in the first instance been engaged. And then they +were in some degree neighbours, each possessing a small property in +Berkshire. Sir Francis had bought his now some years since for racing +purposes. It was adjacent to Ascot, and had been let or used by +himself during the racing week, as he had or had not been short of +money. Mr. Western's small property had come to him from his uncle. +But he had held it always in his own hands, and intended now to take +his bride there as soon as their short honeymoon trip should be over. +In this way Sir Francis had come to know something of Cecilia's +husband, and did not especially love him. "That young lady of mine +has picked up old Western on her travels." This Sir Francis said to +his friend Ross up in London. The reader however must remember that +"old Western" was in fact a younger man than Sir Francis himself. + +"I suppose he's welcome to her?" said Ross. + +"I'm not so sure of that. Of course he is welcome in one way. She'll +make him miserable and he'll do as much for her. You may let them +alone for that." + +"Why should you care about it?" + +"Well; I don't know. A fellow has a sort of feeling about a girl when +he has been spooning on her himself. He doesn't want to think that +another fellow is to pick her up immediately." + +"Dog in the manger, you mean." + +"You may call it that if you like. You never cared for any young +woman, I suppose?" + +"Oh, haven't I! Lots of 'em. But if I couldn't get a girl myself I +never cared who had her. What's the good of being selfish?" + +"What's the good of lying?" said Sir Francis, propounding a great +doctrine in sociology. "If I feel cut up what's the use of saying I +don't,--unless I want to deceive the man I'm talking to? If I feel +that I'd like a girl to be punished for her impertinence, what's the +use of my pretending to myself that I don't want it? If I wish a +person to be injured, what's the use of saying I wish them all the +good in the world,--unless there's something to be gained by my +saying it? Now I don't care to tell you lies. I am quite willing that +you should know all the truth about me. Therefore I tell you that I'm +not best pleased that this minx should have already picked up another +man." + +"He has the devil of a temper," said Dick Ross, wishing to make the +matter as pleasant as possible to his friend. + +"So your Miss Holt is married," Ross said to his friend on the day +after the ceremony. + +"Yes; she is married, and her troubles have now to begin. I wonder +whether she has told him the little episode of our loves." + +"You may be sure of that," said Dick. + +"I am not at all so sure of it. She may have told him when they first +became acquainted, but I cannot imagine her telling him afterwards. +He is as proud as she, and is just the man not to like it." + +"It doesn't much signify to you at any rate," said the indifferent +Dick. + +"I'm not so sure of that," said Sir Francis. "I like the truth to be +told. It may become my duty to take care that poor Mr. Western shall +know all about it." + +"What a beast that fellow is for mischief!" said Dick Ross as he +walked home from his club that evening. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +MISS ALTIFIORLA'S ARRIVAL. + + +Yes;--Sir Francis Geraldine was a beast for mischief! Thinking the +matter over, he resolved that Mr. Western should not be left in the +dark as to his wife's episode. And he determined that Mr. Western +would think more of the matter if it were represented to him that +his wife had been jilted, and had been jilted unmistakably before +they two had met each other on the Continent. He was right in this. +According to the usages of the world the lady would have less to say +for herself if that were the case and would have more difficulty in +saying it. Therefore the husband would be the more bound to hear it. +Sir Francis was a beast for mischief, but he knew what he was about. + +But so did not Mrs. Western when she allowed those opportunities +to pass by her which came to her for telling her story before her +marriage. In very truth she had had no reason for concealing it but +that his story had been so nearly the same. On this account she had +put it off, and put it off,--and then the fitting time had passed +by. When she was with him alone after their marriage she could not +do it,--without confessing her fault in that she had not done it +before. She could not bring herself to do so. Standing so high in his +esteem as she did, and conscious that he was thoroughly happy in his +appreciation of her feminine merit, she could not make him miserable +by descending from her pedestal to the telling of a story, which was +disgraceful in that it had not been told before. + +And there was a peculiarity of manner in him of which she became day +by day more conscious. He could be very generous for good conduct +to those dependent on him, but seemed to be one who could with +difficulty forgive an injury. He wished to have everything about him +perfect, and then life should go as soft as a summer's day. He was +almost idolatrous to her in these first days of their marriage, but +then he had found nothing out. Cecilia knowing his character asked +herself after all what there was to be found out. How often that +question must occur to the girl just married. But there was nothing. +He was pleased with her person; pleased with her wit; pleased that +money should have been offered to him, and pleased that for the +present he should have declined it. He liked her dress and her +willingness to change any portion of it at his slightest hint. He +liked her activity and power of walking, and her general adaptability +to himself. He was pleased with everything. But she had the secret at +her heart. + +"I wonder that you should have lived so long, and never have been in +love before," he said to her one day as they were coming home. + +"How do you know?" She blushed as she answered him, but it was a +matter as to which any girl might blush. + +"I am sure you were not. I should have heard it." And yet she was +silent. She felt at the moment that the time had come,--the only +possible time. But she let the moment pass by. Though she was ever +thinking of her secret, and ever wishing that she could tell it, +longing that it had been told, she could not bear that it should be +surprised from her in this way. "I think it nicer as it is," he added +as he left the room. + +Then she got up and stood alone on the floor, thinking of it all. +There she stood for ten minutes thinking of it. She would follow him +and, not throwing herself on her knees--but standing boldly before +him, tell him all. There was no disgrace in it,--to have loved that +other man. Of her own conduct she was confident before all the world. +There had been so little secrecy about it that she almost had a right +to suppose that it had been known to all men. The more she tried +to bring herself to follow him and tell him, the more she assured +herself that there should be no necessity. How ought she to have told +him, and when? At every point of his story should she have made known +to him the same point in hers? "It was exactly the same with me." "I +wouldn't have my young man because he was indifferent." "With yours +there was another lover ready. That has yet to come with me." "You +have come abroad for consolation. So have I." It would have been +impossible;--was impossible. "I think it nicer as it is," he had +said, and she could not do it. + +There was some security while they were travelling, and she wished +that they might travel for ever. She was happy while with him alone; +and so too was he. But for her secret she was completely happy. +Let him only be kept in the dark and he would be happy always. She +idolised him as her own. She loved him the better for thinking that +"it was nicer as it is;"--or would have done, had it been so. Why +should they go where some sudden tidings might mar his joy;--where +some sudden tidings certainly would do so sooner or later? Still they +went on and on till in May they reached his house in Berkshire,--he +with infinite joy at his heart, and she with the load upon hers. + +Early in May they reached Durton Lodge, in Berkshire, and there they +stayed during the summer. Mr. Western had his house in London, and +there was a question whether they would not go there for the season. +But Cecilia had begged to be taken to her house in the country, and +there she remained. Durton Lodge was little more than a cottage, but +it was very pretty and prettily situated. When the Ascot week came +he offered to take her there, but offered it with a smile which she +understood to mean that his proposal should not be accepted. Indeed +she had no wish for Ascot or for any place in which he or she must +meet their old friends. Might it not be possible if they both could +be happy at Durton that there they might remain with some minimum of +intercourse with the world? Six months had now passed by since they +had become engaged and no good-natured friend had as yet told him the +truth. Might it not be possible that the same silence should be as +yet preserved? If years could be made to run on then he would have +become used to her, and the telling of the secret would not be so +severe. + +But there came to her a great trouble in regard to her letters from +Exeter. Miss Altifiorla would fill hers with long statements about +Sir Francis which had no interest whatsoever, but which required to +be at once destroyed. She soon learnt in her married life that her +husband had no wish to see her letters. She would so willingly have +shown them to him, would have taken such a joy in asking for his +sympathy, such a delight in exposing Miss Altifiorla's peculiar views +of life, that she lost much by her constrained reticence. But this +necessity of destroying papers was very grievous to her. Though she +knew that he would not read the letters without her permission, still +she must destroy them. In every possible way she endeavoured to +silence her correspondent, not answering her at first; and then +giving her such answers as were certainly not affectionate. But in +no way would Miss Altifiorla be "snubbed." Then after a while she +proposed to come and stay a week at Durton Lodge. This was not to +be endured. The very thought of it filled poor Mrs. Western's heart +with despair. And yet she did not like to refuse without telling her +husband. Of Miss Altifiorla she had already made mention, and Mr. +Western had been taught to laugh at the peculiarities of the old +maid. "Pray do not have her," she said to him. "She will make you +very uncomfortable, and my life will be a burden to me." + +"But what can you say to her?" + +"No room," suggested Cecilia. + +"But there are two rooms." + +"I know there are. But is one to be driven by a strict regard for +literal truth to entertain an unwelcome friend? Miss Altifiorla +thought that I ought not to have married you, and as I thought I +ought we had some words about it." + +"Whom did she want you to marry?" asked Mr. Western with a laugh. + +"Nobody. She is averse to marriage altogether." + +"Unless she was the advocate of some other suitor, I do not see that +I need quarrel with her. But she is your friend and not mine, and if +you choose to put her off of course you can do so. I would advise you +to find something more probable than the want of a bedroom in a house +in which one is only occupied." + +There was truth in this. What reason could she find? Knowing her +husband's regard to truth she did not dare to suggest any reason +to her friend more plausible than the want of a room, but still +essentially false. She was driven about thinking that she would get +her husband to take her away from home for awhile--for two or three +days. The letter remained unanswered, when her husband suggested +to her that she had better write. "Could we not go somewhere?" she +replied with a look of trouble on her brow. + +"Run away from home on account of Miss Altifiorla?" said he. She was +beginning to be afraid of him and knew that it was so. She did not +dare to declare to him her thoughts and was afraid at every moment +that he should read them. + +"Then I must just tell her that we can't have her." + +"That will be best,--if you have made up your mind. As far as I am +concerned she is welcome. Any friend of yours would be welcome." + +"Oh, George, she would bore you out of your life!" + +"I am not so easily bored. I am sure that any intimate friend of +yours would have something to say for herself." + +"Oh, plenty." + +"And as for her having been an advocate for single life, she had not +seen me and therefore her reasons could not have been personal. There +are a great many young women, thirty years old and upwards, who take +up the idea. They do not wish to subject themselves,--perhaps because +they have not been asked by the right person." + +"I don't think there have been any persons here. Not that she is bad +looking." + +"Perhaps you think I shall fall in love with her." + +"I'd have her directly. But she is the last person in the world I +should think of." + +"I can get on very well with anyone who has an idea. There is at +any rate something to strike at. The young lady who agrees with +everything and suggests nothing, is to me the most intolerable. At +any rate you had better make up your mind at once or you'll have her +here before you know where you are." + +It was this which did, indeed, happen. On the day after the last +conversation Mrs. Western wrote her letter. In it she expressed her +sorrow that engagements for the present prevented her from having +the power to entertain her friend. No doubt the letter was cold and +unfriendly. As she read it over to herself she declared that she +would have been much hurt to have received such a letter from her +friend. But she declared again that under no circumstances could +she have offered herself as Miss Altifiorla had done. Nevertheless +she felt ashamed of the letter. All of which, however, became quite +unnecessary, when, in the course of the afternoon, Miss Altifiorla +appeared at Durton Lodge. She arrived with a torrent of reasons. She +had come up to London on business which admitted of no excuse. She +was sure that her friend's letter must have gone astray,--that letter +which for the last three days she had been expecting. To return from +London to Exeter without seeing her dear friend would be so unfeeling +and unnatural! She must have come to Durton Lodge or must have +returned to Exeter. In fact, she so put it as to make it appear +impossible that she should not have come. + +"My dear Miss Altifiorla," said Mr. Western, "I am sure that Cecilia +is delighted to see you. And as for me, you are quite welcome." But, +as a fact, there she was. There was no sending her away again;--no +getting her out of the house without a sojourn of some days. Whatever +mischief she might do might be done at once. There could be no doubt +that she would begin to talk of Sir Francis Geraldine and declare the +secret which it was now the one care of Cecilia's mind to keep away +from her husband. It mattered not that her presence there showed her +to be vulgar, impertinent, and obtrusive. There she was, and must be +dealt with as a friend, or as an enemy. Again Cecilia almost made up +her mind as to the better course. Let her go to her husband and tell +him all, and tell him also why it was that she told him now. Let her +endure his anger, and then there would be an end of it. There was +nothing else as to which she had need to dread him. + +But again, when she found herself with him, he was happy, and jocund, +and jested with her about her friend. She could not get him into the +humour in which it was proper that he should be told. She did not +tell him, and went down to dinner with the terrible load about her +heart. Three or four times during the evening the conversation was +on the point of turning to matters in which the name of Sir Francis +Geraldine would surely be mentioned. With infinite care, but without +showing her care, she contrived to master the subject, and to force +her friend and her husband to talk of other things. But the struggle +was very great, and she was aware that it could not be repeated. The +reader will remember, perhaps, the stern thoughts which Miss Holt +had entertained as to her friend when her friend had thought proper +to give her some idea of what her duty ought to be in regard to her +present husband. She remembered well that Miss Altifiorla had written +to her, asking whether Mr. Western had forgiven "that episode." +And her mother, too, had in writing dropped some word,--some word +intended to be only half intelligible as to the question which Miss +Altifiorla had asked after the wedding breakfast. She knew well what +had been in the woman's mind, and knew also what had been in her own! +She remembered how proudly she had disdained the advice of this woman +when it had been given to her. And yet now she must go to her and ask +for mercy. She saw no other way out of her immediate trouble. She +did not believe but that her friend would be silent when told to be +silent; but yet how painfully disgraceful to her, the bride, would be +the telling. + +She went up to Miss Altifiorla's room after she had gone for the +night, and found her friend getting into bed, happy with the +assistance of a strange maid. "Oh, my dear," said Miss Altifiorla, +"my hair is not half done yet; are you in a hurry for Mary?" + +"I will go to my own room," said Mrs. Western, "and when Mary will +tell me that you are ready I will come to you. There is something +I have to tell you." She had not been five minutes in her own room +before Mary summoned her. The "something to be told" took immediate +hold of Miss Altifiorla's imagination, and induced her to be ready +for bed with her hair, we may suppose, "half done." + +"Francesca," said Mrs. Western, as soon as she entered the room, "I +have a favour to ask you." + +"A favour?" + +"Yes, a favour." She had come prepared with her request down to the +very words in which it should be uttered. "I do not wish you, while +you remain here, to make any allusion to Sir Francis Geraldine." +Miss Altifiorla almost whistled as she heard the words spoken. "You +understand me, do you not? I do not wish any word to be said which +may by chance lead to the mention of Sir Francis Geraldine's name. If +you will understand that, you will be able to comply with my wishes." +Her request she made almost in the stern words of an absolute order. +There was nothing humble in her demeanour, nothing which seemed to +tell of a suppliant. And having given her command she remained quiet, +waiting for an answer. + +"Then this was the reason why you didn't answer me. You did not want +to see me, and therefore remained silent." + +"I did not want to see you. But it was not on that account that I +remained silent. I should have written to you. Indeed I have written +to you, and the letter would have gone to-day. I wrote to you putting +you off. But as you are here I have to tell you my wishes. I am sure +that you will do as I would have you." + +"I have to think of my duty," said Miss Altifiorla. + +Then there came a black frown on Mrs. Western's brow. Duty! What duty +could she have in such a matter, except to her? She suspected the +woman of a desire to make mischief. She felt confident that the woman +would do so unless repressed by the extraction from her of a promise +to the contrary. She did believe that the woman would keep her +word,--that she would feel herself bound to preserve herself from the +accusation of direct falsehood; but from her good feeling, from her +kindness, from her affection, from that feminine bond which ought to +have made her silent, she expected nothing. "Your duty, Francesca, +in this matter is to me," said Mrs. Western, assuming a wonderful +severity of manner. "You have known me many years and are bound to me +by many ties. I tell you what my wishes are. I cannot quite explain +my reasons, but I do not doubt that you will guess them." + +"You have kept the secret?" said Miss Altifiorla with a devilish +mixture of malice, fun, and cunning. + +"It does not matter what I have done. There are reasons, which made +me wish to avoid your immediate coming. At the present moment it +would interfere gravely with his happiness and with mine were he +to learn the circumstances of Sir Francis Geraldine's courtship. +Of course it is painful to me to have to say this to you. It is so +painful that to avoid it I have absolutely written to you telling you +not to come. This I have done not to avoid your coming, which would +otherwise have been a pleasure to me, but to save myself from this +great pain. Now you know it all, and know also what it is that I +expect from you." + +Miss Altifiorla listened to this in silence. She was seated in +an easy bedroom chair, clothed from head to foot in a pale pink +dressing-gown, from which the colour was nearly washed out; and her +hair as I have said was "half done." But in her trouble to collect +her thoughts she became quite unaware of all accessories. Her dear +friend Cecilia had put the matter to her so strongly that she did +not quite dare to refuse. But yet what a fund of gratification might +there not be in telling such a story under such circumstances to +the husband! She sat silent for a while meditating on it, till Mrs. +Western roughly forced a reply from her lips. "I desire to have your +promise," said Mrs. Western. + +"Oh, yes, of course." + +"You will carefully avoid all allusion to the subject." + +"Since you wish it, I will do so." + +"That is sufficient. And now good-night." + +"I know that I am doing wrong," said Miss Altifiorla. + +"You would indeed be doing wrong," said Mrs. Western, "if you were +to take upon yourself to destroy my happiness on such a matter after +having been duly warned." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +LADY GRANT. + + +It is literally true that the tongue will itch with a desire to tell +a secret. Miss Altifiorla's tongue did itch. But upon the whole she +endured her suffering, and kept her promise. She did not say a word +in Mr. Western's hearing which led to Sir Francis Geraldine as a +topic of conversation. But in reward for this she exacted from Mrs. +Western an undertaking to keep her at Durton Lodge for a fortnight. +The bargain was not exactly struck in those words, but it was so made +that Mrs. Western understood how great was the price she paid, and +how valuable the article she received in return. "A fortnight!" Mr. +Western said, when his wife told him of the promise she had made. "I +thought that three days would have been too much for you." + +"Three hours are too much,--as interrupting our happiness. But as she +is here, and as we have been very intimate for many years, and as she +herself has named the time, I have not liked to contradict her." + +"So be it. She will interfere much more with you than with me, and I +suppose that the coming will not be frequently repeated." + +Two days after this another guest proposed to visit them. But this +was only for two nights, and her coming had in fact been expected +from a period before the marriage. Lady Grant was Mr. Western's +younger sister, and the person of whom in all the world he seemed to +think the most. Indeed he had assured his wife that next to herself +she was the nearest and the dearest to him. She was a widow, and went +but little into society. According to his account she was clever, +agreeable, and beautiful. She lived altogether in Scotland, where her +time was devoted to her children, and was now coming up to England +chiefly with the purpose of seeing her brother's wife. She was to be +at Durton Lodge now only for a couple of nights, and then to return +and remain with the understood purpose of taking them with her +back to Scotland. Of Lady Grant Cecilia had become much afraid, +as thinking it more than probable that her secret might be known. +But it had seemed that as yet Lady Grant knew nothing of it. She +corresponded frequently with her brother, and, as far as Cecilia +could tell, the subject had not yet been mentioned between them. +Could it be possible that all this time the secret was known to her +husband and to her husband's sister? If so his silence to her was +almost cruel. + +Up to the morning of her coming Miss Altifiorla had certainly kept +her promise. She had kept her promise though there had been twenty +little openings as to which it would have been so easy for her to +lead the way to the matter as to which her tongue longed to be +speaking. When any mention was made of baronets either married +or unmarried, of former lovers, of broken vows, or of second +engagements, Miss Altifiorla would look with a meaning glance at her +hostess. But of these glances Cecilia would apparently take no heed. +She had soon got to know that Miss Altifiorla's promise would be kept +unless she were led by some other person into an indirect breach of +it. Cecilia's life during the period was one of great agony. But +still she endured it without allowing her husband to perceive that it +was so. + +Now, on the coming of Lady Grant, what steps should she take? Should +she ask her friend to be silent also to this second person or should +she presume the promise to be so extended? She could not bring +herself to make a second request. The task of doing so was too +ponderous. Miss Altifiorla's manner of receiving the request made +it such a burden that she could not submit herself to it. The woman +looked at her and spoke to her in a manner which she was obliged +to endure without seeming to endure aught that was unnatural. She +looked back to her own struggles during that evening in the bedroom, +and could see the woman as she sat struggling, in her pale pink +dressing-gown, to escape from the necessity of promising. She could +not have another such scene as that. But she thought that perhaps +with one added word the promise might be made to suffice. + +When they were alone together Miss Altifiorla would constantly refer +to the Geraldine affair. This was to be expected and to be endured. +There would come an end to the fortnight and the woman would be gone. +"Do you think that Lady Grant knows?" she said, in the whisper that +had become usual to her on such occasions. + +"I am sure she knows nothing about it," said Cecilia. + +"How can you be sure? You do not know her and have never seen her. It +will be very odd if she has not heard." + +"At any rate nothing need be said to her in this house. No hint need +be made to her either by you or me." + +"I think she must have heard it. I happen to know that she has a +great correspondence. Laws! when you think of who Sir Francis is and +of the manner in which he lives, it is almost impossible to conceive +that a person should not have heard of it." + +"We need not tell her." + +"You are quite safe with me. I have given you my word, and that ought +to be enough. Nobody could have been more studious to avoid the +matter;--though, indeed, it has sometimes been difficult. And then +there has been my feeling of doubt whether my duty ought not to make +me divulge it." There was something in this which was peculiarly +painful to Cecilia. The duty of this woman to her husband, to him +whom she loved so truly, to him with whom it was in the very core +of her heart to have everything in common! Francesca Altifiorla to +speak of her duty to him! But even this had to be borne. "Indeed, I +feel every day that I am staying here that I am sacrificing duty to +friendship." Oh, into what trouble had she fallen without any sin of +her own,--as she told herself;--without, at least, any great sin! +When was the moment at which she ought to have told the story? She +thought that she could remember the exact moment; when he had come +back to her for her answer at the end of that week. And then she had +not told him, simply from her dislike to repeat back to him the story +which she had heard from himself! + +Lady Grant came, and nothing could be sweeter or more gracious than +the meeting. Miss Altifiorla was not there, and the two ladies, in +the presence of the husband and brother, received each other with +that quick intimacy and immediate loving friendship which it is given +only to women to entertain. Lady Grant was ten years the senior and +a widow, and had that air of living through the evening of her life +instead of still enjoying the morning, which is peculiar to widows +who have loved their husbands. She was very lovely, even in her +mitigated widow's weeds, with a tall figure, and pale oval face, +rather thin, but not meagre or attenuated. And Cecilia thought that +she saw in her a determination to love her,--and she on her side at +once determined that she would return Lady Grant's affection. But +not for that reason was her secret to be known. She looked on Lady +Grant as one whom she would so willingly have made her friend in all +things, but still as one whom, as to that single matter, she could +not but regard as her enemy. + +They sat together for a couple of hours before dinner, and then at +night there was another sitting from which Miss Altifiorla was again +banished. And there were some joking questions asked and answers +given as to Miss Altifiorla's presence. There was a something in the +manner and gait of Lady Grant which made Cecilia almost ashamed of +her Exeter friend. It was not that Miss Altifiorla was ignorant, or +unladylike, or ill-dressed; but that she knew her friend too well. +Miss Altifiorla was little and mean, whereas Cecilia was ready to +accept her sister-in-law as great and noble. Miss Altifiorla was not +therefore spoken of in the highest terms, and the mode of her coming +to Durton Lodge without an invitation was subjected to some little +ridicule. + +But Mrs. Western when she went to her room was comforted at any rate +in thinking that Lady Grant did not know her secret. How poor must +have been her state of comfort may be judged from the fact that this +could add to it. On the following morning they met at breakfast, and +all went well. But Lady Grant could not but notice that the young +lady from Devonshire seemed to exercise an authority incommensurate +with the tone in which she had been described. The day passed by +happily enough, and Cecilia was strong in hope that Lady Grant might +take her departure without a reference to her one subject of sorrow. + +That night, however, her comfort, such as it was, was brought to an +end. As they were sitting together in Lady Grant's bedroom Cecilia's +ears were suddenly wounded by the mention of the name of Sir Francis +Geraldine. In her immediate agony she could hardly tell how it +occurred, but she was rapidly asked a question as to her former +engagement. In the asking of it there was nothing rough, nothing +unkind, nothing intended to wound, nothing to show a feeling that it +should not be so;--but the question had been asked. There was the +fact that Lady Grant knew the whole story. + +But there was the fact also that her husband did not know it, or else +that other fact which she would have given the world to know to be a +fact,--that he knew it, and had willingly held his peace respecting +it, even to his sister. If that could be so, then she could be happy; +if that could be so,--if she could know that it was so, then could +she afford to despise Miss Altifiorla and her tyranny. But though +the word had been not yet a moment uttered, she could not at first +remember how it had been said. There was simply the knowledge that +the name of Sir Francis Geraldine had been used, and that it had been +declared that she had been engaged to him. Up to this moment she had +been very brave, and very powerful, too, over herself. Up to this she +had never betrayed herself. But now her courage gave way, the colour +came to her cheeks and forehead and neck, and then passed rapidly +away,--and she betrayed herself. "Does not he know it?" asked Lady +Grant. As she said the words she put out her hand and pressed +Cecilia's in her own; and the tone of her voice was loving, and +friendly, and sisterly. Though there was reproach in it, it was not +half so bitter as that which Cecilia was constantly addressing to +herself. The reproach was in her ears and not in Lady Grant's voice. +But the words were repeated before Cecilia could answer them. "Does +not he know it?" + +All her hope was thus abolished. Almost from the moment of Lady +Grant's coming into the house she had taught herself to think that he +must know it. It was impossible that the two should be ignorant, and +impossible also as she thought that the sister should know it and +that he should not. But all that was now at an end. It was necessary +that she should answer her sister's question, and yet so difficult +to find words in which to do so. She attempted to speak but the word +would not come. Even the one word, "No," would not form itself on her +lips. She fell upon her knees and, burying her face in Lady Grant's +lap, thus told her secret. + +"He has never heard of it?" again asked Lady Grant. "Oh, my dear. +That should not have been so;--must not be so." + +"If I could tell you! If I could tell you!" + +"Tell me what? I am sure there is nothing for you to tell which you +need blush to speak." + +"No, no. Nothing, nothing." + +"Then why should he not know? Why should he not have known? Cecilia, +you will tell him to-night before he goes to his rest?" + +"No,--no. Not to-night. It is impossible. I must wait till that woman +has gone." + +"Miss Altifiorla knows it?" + +"Oh, yes!" + +"She knows, too, that he does not know it?" This question Cecilia +answered only by some sign. "I fancied that it might be so. I thought +that there was something between you which had been kept from him. +Why, why have you been,--shall I say so foolish?" + +"Yes. Yes. Yes; foolish;--oh, yes! But it has been only that. There +is nothing, nothing that is not known to all the world. The marvel is +that he should not have known it. It was in all the newspapers. But +he never thinks of trifles such as that." + +"But why did you keep it from him?" + +"Shall I tell you? You know the story of his own engagement." + +"To Miss Tremenhere? Oh, yes, I know the story." + +"And how badly she behaved to him, receiving the attention of another +man, absolutely while she was engaged to him." + +"She was very pretty;--but a flighty, inconstant little girl. I felt +that George had had a great escape." + +"But such was the story. Well;--he told it me. He told it before he +had thought of me. We were together and had become intimate; and out +of the full heart the mouth speaks." + +"I can understand that he should have told it you." + +"He did not think of loving me then. Well;--he told me his story, but +I kept mine to myself." + +"That was natural,--then." + +"But, when he came to me with the other story and asked me to love +him, was I to give him back his own tale and tell him the same thing +of myself? I too have had a lover, and I have--jilted him, if you +please to call it so. Was I to tell him that?" + +"It would hardly have been true, I think." + +"It would have been true,--true to the letter," said Cecilia, +determined that Sir Francis Geraldine's lie should not prevail at +this moment. "I had done to Sir Francis just what the girl had done +to your brother. I was guided by other motives and had, I think, +behaved properly. Was I to tell it to him then?" + +"Why not?" + +"His own story, back again? I could not do it, and then, after that, +from time to time the occasions have gone by. Words have been said by +him which have made it impossible. Twenty times I have determined to +do it, and twenty times the opportunity has been lost. I was obliged +to tell this woman not to mention it in his presence." + +"He must know it." + +"I wish he did." + +"He is a man who will not bear to be kept in the dark on such a +question." + +"I know it. I have read his character and I know it." + +"You cannot know him as I do," said Lady Grant. "Though you are his +wife you have not been so long enough to know him; how true he is, +how affectionate, how honest; but yet how jealous! Were I to say that +he is unforgiving I should belie him. Without many thoughts he could +forgive the man who had robbed him of his fortune, or his health. +But it is hard for him to forgive that which he considers to be an +offence against his self-love." + +"I know it all." + +"The longer he is kept in the dark the deeper will be the wound. Of +such a man it is impossible to say what he suspects. He will not +think that you have loved him the less or that you are less true to +him; but there will be something that will rankle, and which he will +not endeavour to define. He is the noblest man on earth, and the most +generous--till he be offended. But then he is the most bitter." + +"You describe his character just as I have read it." + +"If it be so you must be careful that he learn this from yourself, +and not from others. If it come from you he will be angry, that it +has come so late. But his anger will pass by and he will forgive you. +But if he hears it from the world at large, if it be told of you, +and not by you, then I can understand, that his wrath should be very +great." + +"Why has he not heard it already?" asked Mrs. Western after a pause. +"Why has he not been like all the world who have read it in the +newspapers? It was talked of so much, that it was hardly necessary +that I should tell it myself." + +"You yourself have said that he does not think of trifles. Paragraphs +about the loves and marriages of other people he would never read. +You may be sure at any rate of this,--that your engagement with Sir +Francis Geraldine he has never read." + +"I have sometimes hoped," said Mrs. Western, "that he knew it all." +Lady Grant shook her head. "I have sometimes thought that he knew +it all, and regarded it as a matter on which nothing need be said +between us. Should I have been angry with him had he not told me of +Miss Tremenhere?" + +"Do you measure the one thing by the other," said Lady Grant; "a +man's desires by a woman's, a man's sense of honour by what a woman +is supposed to feel? Though a man keep such secrets deep in his bosom +through long years of married life, the woman is not supposed to be +injured. She may know, or may not know, and may hear the tale at +any period of her married life, and no harm will follow. But a man +expects to see every thought in the breast of the woman to whose love +be trusts, as though it were all written there for him in the clear +light, but written in letters which no one else shall read." + +"I have nothing that he may not read," said Mrs. Western. + +"But there is something that he has not read, something that he has +not been invited to read. Let it not remain so. Tell it to him all +even though you may have to support his anger, and for a time to pine +in the shadow of his displeasure." + +Mrs. Western as she went away to her own room felt some relief at any +rate in the conviction that with Lady Grant her secret would be safe. +Strong as was the bond which bound her to her brother, there would be +on her tongue no itching desire to tell the secret simply because it +was there to be told. She had not threatened, or spoken of her duty, +or boasted of her friendship, but had simply given her advice in +the strongest language which it was within her power to use. On the +next morning she took her leave, and started on her journey without +showing even by a glance that she was possessed of any secret. + +"Does she know?" asked Miss Altifiorla as soon as the two were in the +drawing-room together, using a kind of whisper which had now become +habitual to her. + +It may almost be said that Mrs. Western had come to hate her friend. +She looked forward to the time of her going as a liberation from +misery. Miss Altifiorla's intrusion at Durton Lodge was altogether +unpalatable to her. She certainly no longer loved her friend, and +knew well that her friend knew that it was so. But still she could +not risk the open enmity of one who knew her secret. And she was +bound to answer the question that was asked her. "Yes, she does know +it." + +"And what does she say?" + +"It matters not what she says. My request to you is that you should +not speak of it." + +"But to yourself!" + +"No, not to myself or to any other person here." Then she was silent; +and Miss Altifiorla, pursing up her lips, bethought herself whether +the demands made upon her friendship were not too heavy. But there +still remained five days of the visit. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +MISS ALTIFIORLA'S DEPARTURE. + + +The fortnight was nearly gone, and Miss Altifiorla was to start early +on the following morning. Cecilia had resolved that she would tell +her story to her husband as soon as they were alone together, and +make a clean breast. She would tell him everything down as far as she +could, to the little feelings which had prevented her from speaking +before, to Miss Altifiorla's abominable interference, and to Lady +Grant's kind advice. She would do this as soon as Miss Altifiorla was +out of the house. But she could not quite bring herself to determine +on the words she would use. She was resolved, however, that in +owning her fault she would endeavour to disarm his wrath by special +tenderness. If he were tender;--oh, yes, then she would be tender +in return. If he took it kindly then she would worship him. All the +agony she endured should be explained to him. Of her own folly, she +would speak very severely,--if he treated it lightly. But she would +do nothing to seem to deprecate his wrath. As to all this she was +resolved. But she had not yet settled on the words with which she +would commence her narrative. + +The last day wore itself away very tediously. Miss Altifiorla was in +her manner more objectionable than ever. Mr. Western had evidently +disliked her though he had hardly said so. During the days he had +left the two women much together, and had remained in his study or +had wandered forth alone. In this way he had increased his wife's +feeling of anger against her visitor, and had made her look forward +to her departure with increasing impatience. But an event happened +which had at once disturbed all her plans. She was sitting in the +drawing-room with Miss Altifiorla at about five in the evening, +discussing in a most disagreeable manner the secrecy of her first +engagement. That is to say, Miss Altifiorla was persisting in the +discussion, whereas Mrs. Western was positively refusing to make it +a subject of conversation. "I think you are demanding too much from +me," said Miss Altifiorla. "I have given way, I am afraid wrongly as +to your husband. But I should not do my duty by you were I not to +insist on giving you my advice with my last breath. Let me tell it. I +shall know how to break the subject to him in a becoming manner." At +this moment the door was opened and the servant announced Sir Francis +Geraldine. + +The disturbance of the two women was complete. Had the dead ancestor +of either of them been ushered in they could not have received him +with more trepidation. Miss Altifiorla rose with a look of awe, Mrs. +Western with a feeling of anger that was almost dominated by fear. +But neither of them for a moment spoke a word, nor gave any sign of +making welcome the new guest. "As I am living so close to you," said +the baronet, putting on that smile which Mrs. Western remembered so +well, "I thought that I was in honour bound to come and renew our +acquaintance." + +Mrs. Western was utterly unable to speak. "I don't think that we knew +that you were living in the neighbourhood," said Miss Altifiorla. + +"Oh, yes; I have the prettiest, funniest, smallest little cottage in +the world just about two miles off. The Criterion it is called." + +"What a very odd name!" said Miss Altifiorla. + +"Yes, it is rather odd. I won the race once and bought the place with +the money. The horse was called Scratch'em, and I couldn't call my +house Scratch'em. I have built a second cottage, so that it is not so +very small, and as it is only two miles off I hope that you and Mrs. +Western will come and see it." + +This was addressed exclusively to Cecilia, and made an answer of some +kind absolutely necessary. "I fear that we are going to Scotland +very shortly," she said; "and my husband is not much in the habit of +visiting." + +This was uncivil enough, but Sir Francis did not take it amiss. He +sat there for twenty minutes, and even made allusion to their former +intimacy at Exeter. + +"I am quite well aware how happily all that has ended," he said;--"at +any rate on your side of the question. You have done very well and +very wisely. And I,"--he laughed as he said this,--"have succeeded in +getting over it better than might have been expected. At any rate I +hope that there will be no ill-will. I shall do myself the honour of +asking you and Mr. Western to come and dine with me at the Criterion. +It is the little place that Lord Tomahawk had last year." Then he +departed without another word from Cecilia Western. + +"Now he must be told," whispered Miss Altifiorla the moment the door +was closed. "My dear, if you will think of it all round you will +perceive that this can be done by no one so well as by myself. I will +go to Mr. Western the moment he comes in, and get through it all in +half an hour." + +"You will do nothing of the kind," said Mrs. Western. + +"Let me pray you. Let me implore you. Let me beseech you." + +"You will do nothing of the kind. I will admit of no interference in +the matter." + +"Interference! You cannot call it interference." + +"I will not have you to speak to my husband on the subject." + +"But what will you do?" + +"Whatever I do shall be done by myself alone." + +"But you must tell him instantly. You cannot allow this man to come +and call and yet say nothing about it. And he would not have called +without some previous acquaintance. This you will have to describe, +and if you say that you merely knew him at Exeter, there will be +in that case an additional fib." The use of such words applied to +herself by this woman was intolerable. But she could only answer them +by an involuntary frown upon her brow. "And then," continued Miss +Altifiorla, "of course he will refer to me. He will conclude that as +you knew Sir Francis at Exeter I must have known him. I cannot tell a +fib." + +She could not tell a fib! And that was uttered in such a way as to +declare that Mrs. Western had been fibbing. I cannot tell a fib! "You +will leave me at any rate to mind my own business," said Cecilia in +an indignant tone as she left the room. + +But Mr. Western was at the hall door, and the coming of Sir Francis +had to be explained at once. That could not be left to be told when +Miss Altifiorla should have gone,--not even though she were going +to-morrow. "Sir Francis Geraldine has been here," she said almost +before he had entered the room. She was immediately aware that +she had been too sudden, and had given by her voice too great an +importance to her idea of the visit. + +But he was not surprised at that and did not notice it. "Sir Francis +Geraldine! A man whom I particularly do not wish to know! And what +has brought him here?" + +"He came to call. He is a Devonshire man, and he knew us at Exeter." + +"He is the Dean's brother-in-law. I remember. And when he came what +did he say? Unless you and he were very intimate I think he might as +well have remained away. There are some stories here not altogether +to his credit. I do not know much about his business, but he is not a +delectable acquaintance." + +"We were intimate," said Cecilia. "Maude Hippesley, his niece, was my +dearest friend." The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she +was aware that she had fibbed. Miss Altifiorla was justified. Why had +she not stopped at the assurance of her intimacy with Sir Francis, +and leave unexplained the nature of it? Every step which she took +made further steps terribly difficult! + +After dinner, Mr. Western, as a matter of course, brought up +the subject of Sir Francis Geraldine. "Did you know him, Miss +Altifiorla?" + +"Oh, yes!" said that lady, looking at Cecilia with peculiar eyes. +Only that Mr. Western was a man and not a woman, and among men the +least suspicious till his suspicion was aroused, he would have +discovered at once from Miss Altifiorla's manner that there was a +secret. + +"He seems to have lived in very good clerical society down in +Exeter,--a very different class from those with whom he has been +intimate here." + +"Of course he was staying at the Deanery," said Cecilia. + +"And the Dean, I know, is a very pearl of Church propriety. It is odd +what different colours men show at different places. Down here, where +he is well known, a great many even of the racing men fight shy of +him. But I beg your pardon if he be a particular friend of yours, +Miss Altifiorla." + +"Oh dear, no, not of mine at all. I should never have known him to +speak to but for Cecilia." Her words no doubt were true; but again +she looked as though endeavouring to tell all she could without +breaking her promise. + +"He is one of our Devonshire baronets," said Cecilia, "and of course +we like to stand by our own. At any rate he is going to ask us to +dinner." + +"We cannot dine with him." + +"That's as you please. I don't want to dine with him." + +"I look upon it as very impertinent. He knows that I should not dine +with him. There has never been any actual quarrel, but there has been +no acquaintance." + +"The acquaintance has been on my part," said Cecilia, who felt +that at every word she uttered she made the case worse for herself +hereafter. + +"When a woman marries, she has to put up with her husband's friends," +said Mr. Western gravely. + +"He is nothing on earth to me. I never wish to see him again as long +as I live." + +"It is unfortunate that he should have turned out to be so near a +neighbour," said Miss Altifiorla. Then for the moment Sir Francis +Geraldine was allowed to be forgotten. + +"I did not like to say it before her," he said afterwards in their +own room;--and now Cecilia was able to observe that his manner was +altogether altered,--"but to tell the truth that man behaved very +badly to me myself. I know nothing about racing, but my cousin, poor +Jack Western, did. When he died, there was some money due to him by +Sir Francis, and I, as his executor, applied for it. Sir Francis +answered that debts won by dead men were not payable. But Jack had +been alive when he won this, and it should have been paid before. I +know nothing about debts of honour as they are called, but I found +out that the money should have been paid." + +"What was the end of it?" asked Cecilia. + +"I said no more about it. The money would have come into my pocket +and I could afford to lose it. But Sir Francis must know what I think +of the transaction, and, knowing it, ought not to talk of asking me +to dinner." + +"But that was swindling." + +"For the matter of that it's all swindling as far as I can see. One +strives to get the money out of another man's pocket by some juggling +arrangement. For myself I cannot understand how a gentleman can +condescend to wish to gain another man's money. But I leave that all +alone. It is so; and when I meet a man who is on the turf as they +call it, I keep my own feelings to myself. He has his own laws of +conduct and I have mine. But here is a man who does not obey his own +laws; and puts money in his pocket by breaking them. He can do as +he pleases. It is nothing to me. But he ought not to come and call +upon my wife." In this way he talked himself into a passion; but the +passion was now against Sir Francis Geraldine and not against his +wife. + +On the next morning Miss Altifiorla was despatched by an early train +so that she might be able to get down to Exeter, _viâ_ London, early +in the day. It behoved her to go to London on the route. She had +things to buy and people to see, and to London she went. "Good-bye, +my dear," she said, seeming to include the husband as well as the +wife in the address. "I have spent a most pleasant fortnight, and +have been most delighted to become acquainted with your husband. You +are Cecilia Holt no longer. But it would have been sad indeed not +to know him who has made you Cecilia Western." Then she put out her +hand, and getting hold of that of the gentleman squeezed it with the +warmest affection. But her farewell address made to Mrs. Western +in her own room was quite different in its tone. "Now I am going, +Cecilia," she said, "and am leaving you in the midst of terrible +dangers." + +"I hope not," said Cecilia. + +"But I am. They would have been over now and passed if you would have +allowed me to obey my reason, and to tell him the whole story of your +former love." + +"Why you?" + +"Because I am your most intimate friend. And I think I should have +told it in such a manner as to disarm his wrath." + +"It is out of the question. I will tell him." + +"Do so. Do so. But I doubt your courage. Do so this very morning. And +remember that at any rate Francesca Altifiorla has been true to her +promise." + +That such a promise should have been needed and should have been +boasted of with such violent vulgarity was almost more than Mrs. +Western could stand. She came down-stairs and then underwent the +additional purgatory of listening to the silver-tongued farewell. +That she, she with her high ideas of a woman's duty and a woman's +dignity, should have put herself into such a condition was a marvel +to herself. Had some one a year since told her that she should become +thus afraid of a fellow-creature and of one that she loved best in +all the world, she would have repelled him who had told her with +disdain. But so it was. How was she to tell her husband that she had +been engaged to one whom he had described to her as a gambler and a +swindler? + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +SIR FRANCIS TRAVELS WITH MISS ALTIFIORLA. + + +Miss Altifiorla was at the station of course before her time. It is +the privilege of unmarried ladies when they travel alone to spend +a good deal of time at stations. But as she walked up and down the +platform she had an opportunity for settling her thoughts. She was +angry with three persons--with Mrs. Western, Mr. Western, and with +herself. She was very angry with Cecilia. Had Cecilia trusted to her +properly she could have sympathised with her thoroughly in all her +troubles. She was not angry with her friend in that her friend was +afraid of her husband. Would she have reposed herself and her fears +on her friend's bosom it might have been very well. But it was +because her friend had not been afraid of her that she was wrath. +Mrs. Western had misbehaved egregiously, and had come to her in +her trouble solely because it was necessary. So far she had done +naturally. But though she had come, she had not come in any of the +spirit of humility. She had been bold as brass to her in the midst +of her cowardice towards her husband,--imperious to herself and +unbending. She had declined her advice with scorn. And yet one word +spoken by herself would have been destructive. Seeing that she had +been so treated had she not been wrong to abstain from the word? + +Her anger against Mr. Western was less hot in its nature but was +still constant. He had not liked her, and though he had been formally +civil, his dislike had been apparent. He was a man proud of himself, +who ought to be punished for his pride. It was quite proper that he +should learn that his wife had been engaged to the man whom he had +so violently despised. It would be no more than a fitting reverse of +fortune. Mr. Western was, she thought, no better than other men, and +ought to be made so to understand. She had not quite arranged in her +mind what she could now do in the matter, but for "dear Cecilia's" +sake she was sure that something must be done. + +And she was angry with herself at allowing herself to be turned out +of the house before the crisis had come. She felt that she ought to +have been present at the crisis, and that by the exercise of her own +powers she might have hurried on the crisis. In this respect she was +by no means satisfied with herself. + +She was walking up and down the platform of the little country +station thinking of all this when on a sudden she saw Sir Francis +Geraldine get out of a brougham. It cannot be explained why her heart +throbbed when she saw Sir Francis get out of his brougham. It was not +that she thought that she could ask his advice on the matters which +filled her mind, but there probably did come to her vague ideas +of the possibility of some joint action. At any rate she received +him when he came upon the platform with her blandest smile, and +immediately entered into conversation with him respecting the +household of the Westerns. What a stiff man he was, so learned, so +proper, and so distant! It was impossible to get on with him. No +doubt he was very good and all that. But what was their poor dear +Cecilia to do with a man so silent, and one who hated all amusements? +Before the train came up she and Sir Francis were quite on good terms +together; and as they were both going to London they got into the +same carriage. + +"Of course he's a prig," said Sir Francis, as they seated themselves +opposite to one another. "But then his wife is a prig too, and I do +not see why they should not suit each other." + +"You did not use to think her a prig, Sir Francis." + +"No; like other men I made a mistake and was nearly having to pay for +it. But I discovered in time,--luckily for both of us." + +"You know," said Miss Altifiorla, "that Cecilia Holt was my dearest +friend, and I cannot endure to hear her abused." + +"Abused! You do not think I wish to abuse her. I am awfully fond of +her still. But I do not see why she and Western should not get on +very well together. I suppose they've no secrets from each other," he +added after a pause. Upon this Miss Altifiorla remained silent. "They +tell each other everything I should think." Still Miss Altifiorla +said nothing. "I should imagine that she would tell him everything." + +"Upon my word I can't say." + +"I suppose she does. About her former engagement, for instance. He +knows the whole story, eh?" + +"I declare you put it to me in such a way that one doesn't know how +to answer you." + +"Different people have such different opinions about these kind of +things. Some people think that because a girl has been engaged to +a man she never ought to speak to him again when the engagement is +broken. For my part I do not see why they should not be as intimate +as any other people. She looked at me the other day as though she +thought that I ought not to put myself into the same room with her +again. I suppose she did it in obedience to him." + +What was Miss Altifiorla to say in answer to such a question? She did +remember her promise, and her promise was in a way binding upon her. +She wished so to keep it as to be able to boast that she had kept it. +But still she was most anxious to break it in the spirit. She did +understand that she had bound herself not to divulge aught about Mrs. +Western's secret, and that were she to do so now to Sir Francis she +would be untrue to her friend. But the provocation was strong; and +she felt that Sir Francis was a man with whom it would be pleasant to +form an alliance. + +"You must know," said Sir Francis. + +"I don't see that I need know at all. Of course Cecilia does tell me +everything; but I do not see that for that reason I am bound to tell +anyone else." + +"Then you do know." + +"Know what?" + +"Has she told him that she was engaged to me? Or does he not know it +without her telling him?" By this time they had become very intimate, +and were whispering backwards and forwards with each other at their +end of the carriage. All this was very pleasant to Miss Altifiorla. +She felt that she was becoming the recipient of an amount of +confidential friendship which had altogether been refused to her +during the last two weeks. Sir Francis was a baronet, and a man of +fashion, and a gentleman very well thought of in Devonshire, let +Mr. Western say what he might about his conduct. Mr. Western was +evidently a stiff stern man who did not like the amusements of other +gentlemen. Miss Altifiorla felt that she liked being the friend of a +man of fashion, and she despised Mr. Western. She threw herself back +on the seat and closed her eyes and laughed. But he pressed her with +the same question in another form. "Does he know that she was engaged +to me?" + +"If you will ask me, I do not think that he does." + +"You really mean to say that he had never heard of it before his +marriage?" + +"What am I to do when you press me in this way? Remember that I do +not tell you anything of my own knowledge. It is only what I think." + +"You just now said that she told you everything." + +"But perhaps she doesn't know herself." + +"At any rate there is a mystery about it." + +"I think there is, Sir Francis." After that it was not very long +before Miss Altifiorla was induced to talk with great openness of the +whole affair, and before they had reached London she had divulged to +Sir Francis the fact that Mrs. Western had as yet told her husband +nothing of her previous engagement, and lived at the present moment +in awe at the idea of having to do so. "I had no conception that +Cecilia would have been such a coward," she said, as Sir Francis was +putting her into a cab, "but such is the sad fact. She has never +mentioned your name." + +"And was therefore dreadfully frightened when I called." + +"Oh, dreadfully! But I shouldn't wonder if she has not told him all +about it now." + +"Already, you think." He was standing at the door of the cab, +detaining it, and thereby showing in a very pleasant manner the +importance of the interview. + +"Well;--I cannot say. Perhaps not yet. She had certainly not made the +communication when I left this morning, but was only waiting for my +departure to do so. So she said at least. But she is terribly afraid +of him and perhaps has not plucked up her courage. But I must be off +now." + +"When do you leave town?" + +"This afternoon. You are delaying me terribly at this moment. Don't, +Sir Francis!" This she said in a whisper because he had got hold of +her hand through the window, as though to say good-bye to her, and +did not at once let it go. + +"When do you go? I'll see you off by the other train. When do you go, +and from where?" + +"Will you though? That will be very kind. Waterloo;--at 4.30. +Remember the 4.30." + +"Sans adieu!" Then she kissed her hand to him and was driven off. + +This to her was all very pleasant. It gave an instant rose colour +to her life. She had achieved such a character down at Exeter for +maidenly reserve, and had lived so sternly, that it was hardly in her +memory that a man had squeezed her hand before. She did remember one +young clergyman who had sinned in this direction, twelve years since, +but he was now a Bishop. When she heard the other day that he had +been made a Bishop some misgivings as to her great philosophy touched +her mind. Had she done right in repudiating mankind? Would it not +have been better now to have been driving about the streets of the +episcopal city, or perhaps even those of the metropolis, in an +episcopal carriage? But, as she had then said, she had chosen her +line and must now abide by it. But the pressing of her hand by Sir +Francis had opened up new ideas to her. And they were the pleasanter +because a special arrangement had been made for their meeting +once again before they left London. As to one point she was quite +determined. Mrs. Western and her secret must be altogether discarded. +As for her promise she had not really broken it. He had been clever +enough to extract from her all that she knew without, as she thought, +any positive statement on her own part. At any rate he did know the +truth, and no concealment could any longer be of service to Cecilia. +It was evident that the way was open to her now, and that she could +tell all that she knew without any breach of confidence. + +Sir Francis, when he left her, was quite determined to carry his +project through. Cecilia had thrown him over with most abominable +unconcern and self-sufficiency. He had intended to honour her and +she had monstrously dishonoured him. He had endeavoured to escape +this by taking upon himself falsely the fault of having been the +first to break their engagement. But there was a doubt as to this +point, and people said that he had been jilted--much to his disgust. +He was determined to be revenged,--or, as he said to himself, "he had +made up his mind that the broad truth should be known." It certainly +would be the "broad truth" if he could make Mr. Western understand +the relations on which he, Sir Francis, had but a few months before +stood in regard to his wife. "Honesty," he said to himself, "demanded +it." + +Miss Altifiorla, he thought, was by no means an unpleasant young +woman with whom to have an intrigue. She had good looks of her +own, though they were thin and a little pinched. She was in truth +thirty-five years old, but she did not quite look it. She had a +certain brightness of eye when she was awakened to enthusiasm, and +she knew how to make the best of herself. She could whisper and +be--or pretend to be--secret. She had about her, at her command, a +great air of special friendship. She had not practised it much with +men as yet, but there was no reason why she should not do so with +advantage. She felt herself already quite on intimate terms with Sir +Francis; and of Sir Francis it may be said, that he was sufficiently +charmed with Miss Altifiorla to find it expedient to go and see her +off from the Waterloo Station. + +He found Dick Ross at his club and lunched with him. "You're just up +from the Criterion," said Dick. + +"Yes; I went down for the sake of renewing an old acquaintance, and I +renewed it." + +"You've been persecuting that unfortunate young woman." + +"Why a young woman should be thought unfortunate because she +marries such a pink of perfection as Mr. Western, and avoids such a +scapegrace as I am, I cannot conceive." + +"She's unfortunate because you mean to bully her. Why can't you leave +her alone? She has had her chance of war, and you have had yours, and +he has had his. As far as I can see you have had the best of it. She +is married to a stiff prig of a fellow, who no doubt will make her +miserable. Surely that ought to be enough for you." + +"Not quite," said Sir Francis. "There is nothing recommends itself +to my mind so much as even-handed justice. He played me a trick once, +and I'll play him another. She too played me a trick, and now I can +play her one. My good fortune consists in this, that I can kill the +two birds with one stone." + +"You mean to kill them?" + +"Certainly I do. Why on earth should I let them off? He did not let +me off. Nor did she. They think because I carry things in an easy +manner that I take them easily. I suffer as much as they do. But they +shall suffer as well as I." + +"The most pernicious doctrine I ever heard in my life," said Dick +Ross as he filled his mouth with cold chicken pie. + +"When you say pernicious, have you any idea what you mean?" + +"Well, yes; awfully savage, and all that kind of thing. Just utter +cruelty, and a bad spirit." + +"Those are your ideas because you don't take the trouble to return +evil for evil. But then you never take the trouble to return good +for good. In fact, you have no idea of duty, only you don't like to +burden your conscience with doing what seems to be ill-natured. Now, +if a man does me good, I return it,--which I deem to be a great duty, +and if he does me evil, I generally return that sooner or later. +There is some idea of justice in my conduct, but there is none in +yours." + +"Do you mean to punish them both?" + +"Well, yes; as far as it is in my power, both." + +"Don't," said Dick Ross, looking up with something like real sorrow +depicted on his face. But still he called for some greengage tart. + +"I like to get the better of my enemies," said the Baronet. "You +like fruit pie. I doubt if you'd even give up fruit pie to save this +woman." + +"I will," said Dick, pushing the pie away from him. + +"The sacrifice would be all in vain. I must write the letter to-day, +and as it has to be thought about I must begin it at once. Whatever +happens, do not let your good nature quarrel with your appetite." + +"He's a fiend, a perfect fiend," said Dick Ross, as he sate dawdling +over his cheese. "I wouldn't have his ill-nature for all his money." +But he turned that sentiment over in his mind, endeavouring to +ascertain what he would do if the offer of the exchange were made to +him. For Dick was very poor, and at this moment was in great want +of money. Sir Francis went into the smoking-room, and sitting there +alone with a cigar in his mouth, meditated the letter which he would +have to write. The letter should be addressed to Mr. Western, and was +one which could not be written without much forethought. He not only +must tell his story, but must give some reason more or less plausible +for the telling of it. He did not think that he could at once make +his idea of justice plain to Mr. Western. He could not put forth his +case so clearly as to make the husband understand that all was done +in fair honour and honesty. But as he thought of it, he came to the +conclusion that he did not much care what impression he might leave +on the mind of Mr. Western;--and still less what impression he might +leave on hers. He might probably succeed in creating a quarrel, and +he was of opinion that Mr. Western was a man who would not quarrel +lightly, but, when he did, would quarrel very earnestly. Having +thought it all over with great deliberation, he went up-stairs, and +in twenty minutes had his letter written. At a quarter past four he +was at the Waterloo Station to see the departure of Miss Altifiorla. +Even he could perceive that she was somewhat brighter in her attire +than when he had met her early in the morning. He could not say what +had been done, but something had been added to please his eyes. The +gloves were not the same, nor the ribbons; and he thought that he +perceived that even the bonnet had been altered. Her manner too was +changed. There was a careless ease and freedom about her which he +rather liked; and he took it in good part that Miss Altifiorla had +prepared herself for the interview, though he were to be with her but +for a few minutes, and that she should be different from the Miss +Altifiorla as she had come away from the Western breakfast table. +"Now there is one thing I want you to promise me," she said as she +gave him her hand. + +"Anything on earth." + +"Don't let Mr. Western or Cecilia know that you know about that." +He laughed and merely shook his head. "Pray don't. What's the good? +You'll only create a disturbance and misery. Poor dear Cecilia has +been uncommonly silly. But I don't think that she deserves to be +punished quite so severely." + +"I'm afraid I must differ from you there," he said, shaking his head. + +"Is it absolutely necessary?" + +"Absolutely." + +"Poor Cecilia! How can she have been so foolish! He is of such a +singular temperament that I do not know what the effect may be. I +wish you would think better of it, Sir Francis." + +"And leave myself to stand in my present very uncomfortable position! +And that after such treatment as hers. I have thought it all over, +and have found myself bound in honour to inform him. And it is for +the sake of letting you know that I have come here. Perhaps you may +be called upon to say or do something in the matter." + +"I suppose it cannot be helped," said Miss Altifiorla with a sigh. + +"It cannot," he replied. + +"Poor dear Cecilia. She has brought it on her own head. I must get +into my train now, as we are just off. I am so much obliged to you +for coming to see me start." + +"We shall meet each other before long," he said, as she again kissed +her hand and took her departure. Miss Altifiorla could not but think +what a happy chance it was that prevented his marriage with Cecilia +Holt. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +MR. WESTERN HEARS THE STORY. + + +It was the custom for Mr. Western to come down into the library +before breakfast, and there to receive his letters. On the morning +after Miss Altifiorla's departure he got one by which it may be said +that he was indeed astonished. It can seldom be the case that a +man shall receive a letter by which he is so absolutely lifted out +of his own world of ordinary contentment into another absolutely +different. And the world into which he was lifted was one black with +unintelligible storms and clouds. It was as though everything were +suddenly changed for him. The change was of a nature which altogether +unmanned him. Had he been ruined that would have been as nothing in +comparison. The death of no friend,--so he told himself in the first +moment of his misery,--could have so afflicted him. He read the +letter through twice and thrice, and then sat silent with it in his +hand thinking of it. There could be but one relief, but that relief +must surely be forthcoming. The letter could not be true. How to +account for its falsehood, how to explain to himself that such a +letter should have been written to him without any foundation for +it, without any basis on which such a story could be constructed, he +could not imagine to himself. But he resolved not to believe it. He +saw that were he to believe it, and to have believed it wrongly, the +offence given would be ineffable. He should never dare to look his +wife in the face again. It was at any rate infinitely safer for him +to disbelieve it. He sat there mute, immovable, without a change of +countenance, without even a frown on his brow, for a quarter of an +hour; and at the end of that time he got up and shook himself. It was +not true. Whatever might be the explanation, it could not be true. +There was some foul plot against his happiness; but whatever the +nature of the plot might be, he was sure that the story as told to +him in that letter was not true. And yet it was with a very heavy +heart that he rose and walked off to his wife's room. + +The letter ran as follows:-- + + + MY DEAR MR. WESTERN,--I think it is necessary that I + should allude to a former little incident in my past + life,--one that took place in the course of the last year + only,--to account for the visit which I made to your + house the other day, and which was not, I think, very + well taken. I have no reason to doubt but that you are + acquainted with all the circumstances. Indeed I look upon + it as impossible that you should not be so. But, taking + that for granted, I have to explain my own conduct. + + It seems but the other day that Cecilia Holt and I were + engaged to be married. + + +Mr. Western, when he came to this passage, felt for a moment as +though he had received a bullet in his heart. + + + All Exeter knew of the engagement, and all Exeter seemed + to be well pleased. I was staying with my brother-in-law, + the Dean, and had found Miss Holt very intimate at the + Deanery. It is not for me now to explain the way in which + our engagement was broken through, but your wife, I do + not doubt, in telling you of the affair, will have stated + that she did not consider herself to have been ill-used. + I am quite certain that she can never have said so even + to yourself. I do not wish to go into the matter in all + its details, but I am confident that she cannot have + complained of me. + + Under these circumstances, when I found myself living + close to you, and to her also, I thought it better to call + and to offer such courtesies as are generally held to be + pleasant in a neighbourhood. It would, I thought, be much + pleasanter to meet in that frank way than to go on cutting + each other, especially as there was no ground for a + quarrel on either side. I have, however, learned since + that something has been taken amiss. What is it? If it + be that I was before you, that is too late to be mended. + You, at any rate, have won the prize, and ought to be + contented. You also were engaged about the same time, and + my cousin has got your young lady. It is I that am left + out in the cold, and I really do not see that you have any + reason to be angry. I have no wish to force myself upon + you, and if you do not wish to be gracious down at Ascot, + then let there be an end of it. + + Yours truly, + + FRANCIS GERALDINE. + + +He arose and went slowly up-stairs to his wife's bedroom. It was just +the time when she would come down to breakfast, and as his hand was +on the lock of the door she opened it to come out. The moment she saw +him she knew that her secret had been divulged. She knew that he knew +it, and yet he had endeavoured to eradicate all show of anger from +his face, as all reality of it from his heart. He was sure,--was +sure,--that the story was an infamous falsehood! His wife, his chosen +one, his Cecilia to have been engaged, a year ago, to such a one as +Sir Francis Geraldine,--to so base, so mean a creature,--and then to +have married him without telling a word of it all! To have kept him +wilfully, carefully, in the dark, with studied premeditation so as to +be sure of effecting her own marriage before he should learn it, and +that too when he had told her everything as to himself! It certainly +could not be, and was not true! + +She stood still holding the door open when she saw him there with the +letter in his hand. There was an instant certainty that the blow had +come and must be borne even should it kill her. It was as though she +were already crushed by the weight of it. Her own conduct appeared to +her black with all its enormity. Though there had been so little done +by her which was really amiss, yet she felt that she had been guilty +beyond the reach of pardon. Twelve months since she could have +declared that she knew herself so well as to be sure that she could +never tremble before anyone. But all that was changed with her. +Her very nature was changed. She felt as though she were a guilty, +discovered, and disgraced criminal. She stood perfectly still, +looking him in the face, but without a word. + +And he! His perceptions were not quick as hers, and he still was +determined to disbelieve. "Cecilia!" he said, "I have got a letter." +And he passed on into the room. She followed him and stood with her +hand resting on the shoulder of the sofa. "I have got a letter from +Sir Francis Geraldine." + +"What does Sir Francis Geraldine say of me?" she replied. + +Had he been a man possessed of quick wit, he would have perceived +now that the letter was true. There was confession in the very tone +of her voice. But he had come there determined that it was not true, +determined at any rate to act as though it were not true; and it was +necessary that he should go through the game as he had arranged to +play it. "It is a base letter," he said. "A foul, lying letter. But +there is some plot in it of which I know nothing. You can perhaps +explain the plot." + +"Maybe the letter is true," she said standing there, not submissive +before him, but still utterly miserable in her guilt. + +"It is untrue. It cannot possibly be true. It contains a damnable +lie. He says that twelve months since you were engaged to him as his +wife. Why does he lie like that?" She stood before him quite quiet +without the change of a muscle of her face. "Do you understand the +meaning of it all?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"What is the meaning? Speak to me and explain it." + +"I was engaged to marry Sir Francis Geraldine just before I knew you. +It was broken off and then we went upon the Continent. There I met +you. Oh, George, I have loved you so well! I do love you so truly." +As she spoke she endeavoured to take his hand in hers. She made that +one effort to be tender in obedience to her conscience, but as she +made it she knew that it would be in vain. + +He rejected her hand, without violence indeed but still with an +assured purpose, and walked away from her to the further side of the +chamber. "It is true then?" + +"Yes; it is true. Why should it not be true?" + +"God in Heaven! And I to hear about it for the first time in such a +fashion as this! He comes to see you, and because something does not +go as he would have it, he turns round and tells me his story. But +that he has quarrelled with you now, I should never have heard a +syllable." He had come up to her room determined not to believe a +word of it. And now, suddenly, there was no fault of which in his +mind he was not ready to accuse her. He had been deceived, and she +was to him a thing altogether different from that which he had +believed her. + +But she, too, was stung to wrath by the insinuation which his words +contained. She knew herself to be absolutely innocent in every +respect, except that of reticence to her husband. Though she was +prepared to bear the weight of the punishment to which her silence +had condemned her, yet she was sure of the purity of her own conduct. +Knowing his disposition, she did not care to make light of her great +fault, but now something was added, she hardly knew what, of which +she knew herself to be innocent. Something was hinted as to the +friendship remaining between her and this man, of which her husband, +in his pride, should not have accused her. What! Did he think that +she had willingly received her late lover as her friend in his house +and without his knowledge? If he thought that, then, indeed, must all +be over between them. "I do not know what it is that you suspect. You +had better say it out at once." + +"Is this letter true?" and he held the letter up in his hand. + +"I suppose it to be true. I do not know what it contains, but I +presume it to be true." + +"You can read it," and he threw the letter on the table before her. + +She took it up and slowly passed her eyes over the words, +endeavouring, as she did so, to come to some determination as to what +her conduct should be. The purport of the words she did not fully +comprehend, so fully was her mind occupied with thinking of the +condition of her husband's mind; but they left upon her an impression +that in the main Sir Francis Geraldine had told his story truly. +"Yes," she said, "it is true. Before I had met you I was engaged to +marry this other man. Our engagement was broken off, and then mamma +and I travelled abroad together. We there met you, and then you know +the rest." + +"And you thought it proper that I should be kept in the dark!" She +remained silent. She could not apologise to him after hearing the +accusation which rankled in his bosom. She could not go about to +explain that the moment fittest for an explanation had never come. +She could not endeavour even to make him understand that because +her story was so like his own, hers had not been told. She knew the +comparative insignificance of her own fault, and yet circumstances +had brought it about that she must stand oppressed with this weight +of guilt in his eyes. As he should be just or unjust, or rather +merciful or unmerciful, so must she endure or be unable to endure +her doom. "I do not understand it," he said, with affected calm. "It +is the case, then, that you have brought me into this position with +premeditated falsehood, and have wilfully deceived me as to your +previous engagement?" + +"No!" + +"How then?" + +"There has been no wilful deceit,--no cause for deceit whatsoever. +You were engaged to marry the lady who is now Mrs. Geraldine. I was +engaged to marry Sir Francis." + +"But I told you all." + +"You did." + +"It would have been impossible that I should have asked you to be +mine without telling you the whole story." She could not answer him. +She knew it to be true,--that he had told her and must have told her. +But for herself it had been so improbable that he had not known of +her engagement! And then there had been no opportunity,--no fitting +opportunity. She knew that she had been wrong, foolish, ill-judging; +but there had been nothing of that premeditated secrecy,--that +secrecy with a cause, of which he had hinted that she was guilty. +"I suppose that I may take it as proved that I have been altogether +mistaken?" This he said in the severest tone which he knew how to +assume. + +"How mistaken?" + +"I have believed you to be sweet, and pure, and innocent, and +true;--one in whom my spirit might refresh itself as a man bathes his +heated limbs in the cool water. You were to have been to me the joy +of my life,--my great treasure kept at home, open to no eyes but my +own; a thing perfect in beauty, to think of when absent and to be +conscious of when present, without even the need of expression. 'Let +the wind come and the storm,' I said to myself, 'I cannot be unhappy, +because my wife is my own.' There is an external grace about you +which was to my thinking only the culture of the woman within." + +"Well;--well." + +"It was a dream. I had better have married that little girl. She was +silly, and soon loved some one better. But she did not deceive me." + +"And I,--have I deceived you?" + +He paused before he answered her, and then spoke as though with much +thought, "Yes," he said; "yes." + +"Where? How?" + +"I do not know. I cannot pretend even to guess. I shall probably +never know. I shall not strive to know. But I do know that you have +deceived me. There has been, nay, there is, a secret between you and +one whom I regard as among the basest of men, of which I have been +kept purposely in ignorance." + +"There is no such secret." + +"You were engaged to be his wife. That at any rate has been kept +from me. He has been here as your friend, and when he came,--into +my house,--the purport of his visit was kept from me. He asked for +something, which was refused, and consequently he has written to me. +For what did he ask?" + +"Ask! For nothing! What was there for him to ask?" + +"I do not know. I cannot even pretend to guess. As I read his letter +there must have been something. But it does not matter. While you +have seemed to me to be one thing, you have been another. You have +been acting a part from the first moment in which we met, and have +kept it up all through with admirable consistency. You are not that +sweetly innocent creature which I have believed you to be." + +She knew that she was all that he had fancied her, but she could not +say so. She had understood him thoroughly when he had told her that +she had been to him the cool water in which the heated man might +bathe his limbs; that she was the treasure to be kept at home. Even +in her misery, something of delight had come to her senses as she +heard him say that. The position described to her had been exactly +that which it had been her ambition to fill. She knew that in spite +of all that had come and gone she was still fit to fill it. There had +been nothing,--not a thought to mar her innocence, her purity, her +woman's tenderness. She was all his, and he was certain to know every +thought of her mind and every throb of her heart. She did believe +that if he could read them all, he would be perfectly satisfied. But +she could not tell him that it was so. Words so spoken will be the +sweetest that can fall into a man's ear,--if they be believed. But +let there come but the shadow of a doubt over the man's mind, let him +question the sincerity of a tone, and the words will become untrue, +mawkish and distasteful. A thing perfect in beauty! How was she to +say that she would be that to him? And yet, understanding her error +as she had done with a full intelligence, she could have sworn that +it should be so. The beauty he had spoken of was not simply the sheen +of her loveliness, nor the grace of her form. It was the entirety of +her feminine attraction, including the purity of her soul, which was +in truth still there in all its perfection. But she could not tell +him that he was mistaken in doubting her. Now he had told her that +she was not that innocent creature which he had believed her to be. +What was she to do? How was she to restore herself to his favour? +But through it all there was present to her an idea that she would +not humble herself too far. To the extent of the sin which she had +committed she would humble herself if she knew how to do that without +going beyond it. But further than that in justice both to him and +to herself she would not go. "If you have condemned me," she said, +"there must be an end of it,--for the present." + +"Condemned you! Do you not condemn yourself? Have you attempted any +word of excuse? Have you given any reason why I should have been kept +in the dark? Your friend Miss Altifiorla knew it all I presume?" + +"Yes, she knew it all." + +"And you would not have had her here if you could have avoided it +lest she should tell me?" + +"That is true. I wished to be the first to tell you myself." + +"And yet you had never whispered a word of it. Miss Altifiorla and +Sir Francis it seems are friends." Cecilia only shook her head. "I +heard yesterday at the station that they had gone to London together. +I presume they are friends." + +Quickly the idea passed through Mrs. Western's mind that Miss +Altifiorla had been untrue to her. She had kept her word to the +letter in not having told the secret to her husband but she had +discussed the whole matter with Sir Francis, and the letter which Sir +Francis had written was the result. "I do not know," she said. "If +they be more to each other than chance acquaintance I do not know it. +From week to week and from day to day before our marriage the thing +went on and the opportunity never came. Something would always fall +from you which made me afraid to speak at that moment. Then we were +married, and I found how wrong I had been. I still resolved to tell +you, but put it off like a coward from day to day. Your sister had +heard of my first engagement." + +"Did Bertha know it?" + +"Yes; and like myself she was surprised that you should be so +ignorant." + +"She might well be surprised." + +"Then I resolved to tell you. I would not do it till that other woman +had left the house. I would not have her by to see your anger." + +"And now this is the way in which the history of your former life has +reached my ears!" As he said this he held out in his hand the fatal +letter. "This is the manner in which you have left me to be informed +of a subject so interesting! I first hear from Sir Francis Geraldine +that he and you a twelvemonth since were engaged together as man and +wife." Here she stood quite silent. She did not care to tell him +that it was more than twelve months since. "That you think to be +becoming." + +"I do not think so." + +"That you feel to be compatible with my happiness!" Here, again, +there was a pause, during which she looked full into his face. "Such +is not my idea. My happiness is wrecked. It is gone." Here he made a +motion with his hand, as though to show that all his bliss had flown +away from him. + +"Oh, George, if you love me, do not speak like that!" + +"Love you! Yes I love you. I do not suppose that love can be made +to go at once, as I find that esteem may do, and respect, and +veneration." + +"Oh, George, those are hard words!" + +"Is it not so? This morning you were to me of all God's creatures the +brightest and the best. When I entered your room just now it was so +that I regarded you. Can you now be the brightest and the best? Has +not all that romance been changed at a moment's notice? But, alas! +love does not go after the same fashion." Then he turned shortly +round and left the room. + +She remained confounded and awe-stricken. There had been that about +him which seemed to declare a settled purpose--as though he had +intended to leave her for ever. She sat perfectly still, thinking +of it, thinking of the injustice of the sentence that had been +pronounced upon her. Though she had deserved much, she had not +deserved this. Though she had expected punishment, she had not +expected punishment so severe. In about twenty minutes her maid came +up to her, and with a grave face asked whether she would wish that +breakfast should be sent to her in her own room. Mr. Western had sent +to ask the question. "Yes," said she,--"if he pleases." There could +be no good in attempting to conceal from the servants a misery so +deep and so lasting as this. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +MR. WESTERN'S DECISION. + + +What should she do with herself? Her breakfast was brought to her. At +noon she was told that Mr. Western had gone out for the day and would +not return till the evening. She was asked whether she would have +her pony carriage, and, on refusing it, was persuaded by her maid +to walk in the grounds. "I think I will go out," she said, and went +and walked for an hour. Her maid had been peculiarly her own and had +come to her from Exeter; but she would not talk to her maid about +her quarrel with her husband, though she was sure that the girl knew +of the quarrel. Those messages had certainly come direct from her +husband, and could not, she thought, have been sent without some +explanation of the facts. She could see on the faces of all the +household that everyone knew that there was a quarrel. Twenty times +during the day would she have had her husband's name on her tongue +had there been no quarrel. It had been with her as though she had had +a pride in declaring herself to be his wife. But now she was silent +respecting him altogether. She could not bring herself to ask the +gardener whether Mr. Western wished this thing or the other. The +answer had always been that the master wished the paths and the +shrubs and the flowers to be just as she wished them. But now not +a word was spoken. For an hour she walked among the paths, and +then returned to her own room. Would she have her dinner in the +dining-room? If so, the master would have his in the library. Then +she could restrain herself no longer, but burst into tears. No; she +would have no dinner. Let them bring her a cup of tea in her own +room. + +There she sat thinking of her condition, wondering from hour to hour +what was to be the end of it. From hour to hour she sat, and can +hardly have been said to think. She lost herself in pondering first +over her own folly and then upon his gross injustice. She could not +but marvel at her own folly. She had in truth known from the first +moment in which she had resolved to accept his offer, that it was +her duty to tell him the story of her adventure with Sir Francis +Geraldine. It should have been told indeed before she had accepted +his offer, and she could not now forgive herself in that she had been +silent. "You must know my story," she should have said, "before there +can be a word more spoken between us." And then with a clear brow and +without a tremor in her voice she could have told it. But she had +allowed herself to be silent, simply because he had told the same +story, and then the moment had never come. She could not forgive +herself. She could never entirely forgive herself, even though the +day should come in which he might pardon her. + +But would he ever pardon her? Then her mind would fly away to the +injustice of his condemnation. He had spoken to her darkly, as though +he had intended to accuse her of some secret understanding with Sir +Francis. He had believed her to be guilty of some underhand plot +against his happiness, carried on with the man to whom she had +been engaged! Of what was it that he had imagined her to be guilty? +What was the plot of which in his heart he accused her? Then her +imagination looked out and seemed to tell her that there could be but +one. Her husband suspected her of having married him while her heart +was still the property of that other man! And as she thought of +this, indignation for the time almost choked her grief. Could it be +possible that he, to whom she had given everything with such utter +unreserve, whom she had made the god of her idolatry, to whom she had +been exactly that which he had known so well how to describe,--could +it be that he should have had every thought concerning her changed +in a moment, and that from believing her to be all pure and all +innocent, he should have come to regard her as a thing so vile as +that? She almost tore her hair in her agony as she said that it +must be so. He had told her that his respect, his esteem, and his +veneration, had all passed away. She could never consent to live with +him trusting solely to his love without esteem. + +But as the evening passed away and the night came, and as the +duration of the long hours of the day seemed to grow upon her, and as +no tidings came to her from her lord, she began to tell herself that +it was unbecoming that she should remain without knowing her fate. +The whole length of the tedious day had passed since he had left her +and had condemned her to breakfast in solitude. Then she accused +herself of having been hard with him during that interview, of having +failed to submit herself in repentance, and she told herself that if +she could see him once more, she might still whisper to him the truth +and soften his wrath. But something she must do. She had dismissed +her maid for the last time, and sat miserably in her room till +midnight. But still she could not go to bed till she had made some +effort. She would at any rate write to him one word. She got up +therefore and seated herself at the table with pen and ink before +her. She would write the whole story, she thought, simply the whole +story, and would send it to him, leaving it to him to believe or to +disbelieve it as he pleased. But as she bent over the table she felt +that she could not write such a letter as that without devoting an +entire day to it. Then she rapidly scrawled a few words:-- + + + DEAREST GEORGE,--Come to me and let me tell you + everything.--Your own CECILIA. + + +Then she addressed it to him and put it under her pillow that she +might send it to him as soon as she should wake in the morning. +Having done so she got into her bed and wept herself asleep. + +When the girl came into the room in the morning she at once asked +after her husband. "Is Mr. Western up yet?" The maid informed her +with an air of grave distress that Mr. Western had risen early and +had been driven away from the house to catch a morning train. More +than that the girl could not say. But she believed that a letter had +been left on the library table. She had heard John say that there was +such a letter. But John had gone with his master to the station. Then +she sent down for the letter, and within a few minutes held it in her +hand. + +We will now go back to Mr. Western. He, as soon as he had left his +wife's room in the morning went down-stairs, and began to consider +within himself what was the cause of this evil thing which had been +done to him. A very evil thing had been done. He did feel that the +absolute happiness which had been his for the last few days had +perished and gone from him. He was a man undemonstrative, and silent +in expressing his own feelings, but one who revelled inwardly in his +own feelings of contentment when he was content. His wife had been to +him all that he had dreamt that a woman should be. She had filled up +his cup with infinite bliss, though he had never told even to her how +full his cup had been. But in everything he had striven to gratify +her, and had been altogether successful. To go on from day to day +with his books, with his garden, with his exercise, and above all +with his wife, had been enough to secure absolute happiness. He had +suspected no misfortune, and had anticipated no drawback. Then on +a sudden there had come this damnable letter, which had made him +wretched for the time, even though he were sure that it was not true. +But he had known that it was only for the time, for he had been sure +that it was untrue. Then the blow had fallen, and all his contentment +was banished. There was some terrible mystery,--some mystery of which +he could not gauge the depth. Though he was gracious and confiding +and honest when left at peace, still he was painfully suspicious when +something arose of which the circumstances were kept back from him. +There was a secret here,--there was certainly a secret; and it was +shared between his wife, whom of all human beings he had loved the +best, and the man whom he most thoroughly despised. As long as it +was possible that the whole tale might be an invention he would not +believe a word against his wife; but, when it appeared that there was +certainly some truth in it, then it seemed that there was nothing too +monstrous for him to believe. + +After his solitary breakfast he walked abroad, and turned it all in +his mind. He had given her the opportunity of telling him everything, +and she had told him nothing. So he declared to himself. That one +damning fact was there,--clear as daylight, that she had willingly +bestowed herself upon this baronet, this creature who to his thinking +was vile as a man could be. As to that there was no doubt. That was +declared. How different must she have been from that creature whom +he had fancied that he had loved, when she would have willingly +consented to be the wife of such a man? And this had been done within +a year,--as he said. And then she had married him, telling him +nothing of it, though she must have known that he would discover it +as soon as she was his wife. It suited her to be his wife,--for some +reason which he could not perceive. She had achieved her object;--but +not on that account need he live with her. It had been an affair of +money, and his money she might have. + +He came back and got his horse, as the motion of walking was not fast +enough for him in his passion. It was grievous to be borne,--the fact +that he had been so mistaken in choosing for himself a special woman +as a companion of his life. He had desired her to be all honour, all +truth, all simplicity, and all innocence. And instead of these things +he had encountered fraud and premeditated deceit. She was his wife +indeed;--but not on that account need he live with her. + +And then his curiosity was raised. What was the secret between them? +There must have been some question of money, as to which at the last +moment they had disagreed. To his thinking it was vile that a young +woman should soil her mind with such thoughts and marry or reject +a man at the last moment because of his money. All that should be +arranged for her by her friends, so that she might go to her husband +without having been mixed in any question of a sordid matter. But +these two had probably found at the last moment that their income +was insufficient for their wants, and therefore his purse had been +thought convenient. As all these things, with a thousand others, +passed through his mind he came to the determination that at any rate +they must part. + +He came home, and before he ate his dinner he wrote to her that +letter, of which the contents shall now be given. It was a most +unreasonable letter. But to him in his sorrow, in his passion, it +seemed that every word was based upon reason. + + + DEAR CECILIA, [the letter ran] + + I need hardly tell you that I was surprised by the facts + which you at last told me this morning. I should have + been less pained, perhaps, had they come to me in the + first instance from yourself instead of from Sir Francis + Geraldine. But I do not know that the conclusion to which + I have been forced would have been in any way altered + had such been the case. I can hardly, I fear, make you + understand the shock with which I have received the + intelligence, that a month or two before I proposed to you + you had been the promised wife of that man. I need hardly + tell you that had I known that it was so I should not have + offered you my hand. To say the least of it, I was led + into my marriage by mistake. But a marriage commenced with + such a mistake as that cannot be happy. + + As to your object I cannot surmise. But I suppose that you + were satisfied, thinking me to be of a nature especially + soft and gentle. But I fear I am not so. After what has + passed I cannot bring myself to live with you again. Pray + believe it. We have now parted for ever. + + As to your future welfare, and as to the honour which will + be due to my name, which you must continue to bear, I am + quite willing to make any arrangements which friends of + yours shall think to be due to you. Half my income you + shall have, and you shall live here in this house if it be + thought well for you. In reference to these things your + lawyers had better see my lawyers. In the meantime my + bankers will cash your cheques. But believe me that I am + gone, not to return. + + Your affectionate husband, + + GEORGE WESTERN. + + +These words he wrote, struggling to be cool and rational while he +wrote them, and then he departed, leaving the letter upon the table. + + +END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. + + + + +VOLUME II. + +CHAPTER XIII. + +MRS. WESTERN PREPARES TO LEAVE. + + +Cecilia, when she first read her husband's letter, did not clearly +understand it. It could not be that he intended to leave her for +ever! They had been married but a few months,--a few months of +inexpressible love and confidence; and it was impossible that he +should intend that they should be thus parted. But when she had read +it again and again, she began to perceive that it was so; "Pray +believe it. We have now parted for ever." Had he stopped there her +belief would have only been half-hearted. She would not in truth +have thought that he had been in earnest in dooming her to eternal +separation. But he had gone on with shocking coolness to tell her how +he had arranged his plans for the future. "Half my income you shall +have." "You shall live here in this house, if it be thought well for +you." "Your lawyer had better see my lawyers." It was, in truth, his +intention that it should be so. And she had already begun to have +some knowledge of the persistency of his character. She was already +aware that he was a man not likely to be moved from his word. He had +gone, and it was his intention to go. And he had declared with a +magnanimity which she now felt to be odious, and almost mean, what +liberal arrangements he had made for her maintenance. She was in no +want of income. She told herself that she would rather starve in the +street than eat his bread, unless she might eat it from the same loaf +with him; that she would rather perish in the cold than enjoy the +shelter of his roof, unless she might enjoy it with him. + +There she remained the whole day by herself, thinking that something +must occur to mitigate the severity of the sentence which he had +pronounced against her. It could not be that he should leave her +thus,--he whose every word, whose every tone, whose every look, whose +every touch had hitherto been so full of tenderness. If he had loved +as she had loved how could he live without her? He had explained +his idea of a wife, and though he had spoken the words in his anger, +still she had been proud. But now it seemed as though he would have +her believe that she was wholly unnecessary to him. It could not be +so. He could not so have deceived her. It must be that he would want +her as she wanted him, and that he must return to her to satisfy the +cravings of his own heart. + +But as time went on her tenderness gradually turned to anger. He had +pronounced the sentence, the heaviest sentence which his mind could +invent against her whom he had made his own. Was that sentence just? +She told herself again and again that it was most unjust. The fault +which she had committed deserved no such punishment. She confessed to +herself that she had promised to become the wife of a man unworthy of +her; but when she had done so she had not known her present husband. +He at least had no cause of anger with her in regard to that. And +she, as soon as she had found out her mistake and the man's character +had become in part revealed to her, had with a terrible courage taken +the bull by the horns and broken away from the engagement which +outward circumstances at any rate made attractive. Then with her +mother she had gone abroad, and there she had met with Mr. Western. +At the moment of their meeting she had been at any rate innocent in +regard to him. From that moment she had performed her duty to him, +and had been sincere in her love, even as such a man as Mr. Western +could desire,--with the one exception of her silence. It was true +that she should have told him of Sir Francis Geraldine; of her folly +in accepting him and her courage in repudiating him. Day by day the +days had gone by, and there had been some cause for fresh delay, that +cause having ever reference to his immediate comfort. Did she not +know that had she told him, his offer, his love, his marriage would +have been the same? And now, was she to be turned adrift and thrown +aside, rejected and got rid of at an instant's notice, because, +for his comfort, the telling of her story had been delayed? The +injustice, the cruelty, the inhumanity of such a punishment were very +plain to her. + +Could he do it? As her husband had he a right so to dismiss her +from his bosom? And his money? Perish his money! And his house! The +remembrance of the offers which he made to her aggravated her wrath +bitterly. As his wife she had a right to his care, to his presence, +and to his tenderness. She had not married him simply to be +maintained and housed. Nor was that the meaning of their marriage +contract. Before God he had no right to send her away from him, and +to bid her live and die alone. + +But though he had no right he had the power. She could not force him +to be her companion. The law would give her only those things which +she did not care to claim. He already offered more than the law would +exact, and she despised his generosity. As long as he supported her +the law could not bring him back and force him to give her to eat of +his own loaf, and to drink of his own cup. The law would not oblige +him to encircle her in his arms. The law would not compel him to +let her rest upon his bosom. None of those privileges which were +undoubtedly her own could the law obtain for her. He had said that he +had gone, and would not return, and the law could not bring him back +again. Then she sat and wept, and told herself how much better for +her would have been that single life of which Miss Altifiorla had +preached to her the advantages. + +The second day since his departure had passed and she had taken no +step. Alone she had given way to sorrow and to indignation, but as +yet had decided on nothing. She had waited, still thinking that +something would be done to soften her sorrow; but nothing had been +done. The servants around her moved slowly, solemnly, and as though +struck with awe. Her own maid had tried to say a word once and again, +but had been silenced by the manner of her mistress. Cecilia, though +she felt the weight of the silence, could not bring herself to tell +the girl that her husband had left her for ever. The servants no +doubt knew it all, but she could not bring herself to tell them that +it was so. He had told her that her cheques on his bankers would be +paid, but she had declared that on no account should such cheque +be drawn by her. If he had made up his mind to desert her, and had +already left her without intending further communication, she must +provide for herself. She must go back to her mother, where the eyes +of all Exeter would see her. But she must in the first instance write +to her mother; and how could she explain to her mother all that had +happened? Would even her own mother believe her when she said that +she was already deserted by her husband for ever and ever because she +had not told him the story respecting Sir Francis Geraldine? + +On the third morning she resolved that she would write to her +husband. It was not fit, so she told herself, that she should leave +his house without some further word of instruction from him. But how +to address him she was ignorant. He was gone, but she did not know +whither. The servants, no doubt, knew where, but she could not bring +herself to ask them. On the third day she wrote as follows. The +reader will remember that that short scrawl which she addressed to +him from her bedroom had not been sent. + + + DEAR GEORGE,--This is the first letter I have written to + you as your wife, and it will be very sad. I do not think + that you can have remembered that yours would be the first + which I had ever received from my husband. + + Your order has crushed me altogether. It shall, + nevertheless, be obeyed as far as I am able to obey it. + You say something as to your means, and something also as + to your house. In that you cannot be obeyed. It is not + possible that I should take your money or live in your + house unless I am allowed to do so as your wife. The law, + I think, says that I may do so. But the law, of course, + cannot compel a man to be a loving, tender husband, or + even to accept the tenderness of a loving wife. I know + what you owe me, but I know also that I cannot exact it + unless you can give it with all your heart. Your money and + your house I will not have unless I can have them together + with yourself. Your bread would choke me. Your roof would + not shelter me. Your good things would be poison to + me,--unless you were here to make me feel that they were + yours also as well as mine. If you mean to insist on the + severity of your order, you will have to get rid of me + altogether. I shall then have come across two men of which + I do not know whether to wonder most at the baseness of + the one or the cruelty of the other. In that case I can + only return to my mother. In that case you will not, I + think, care much what may become of me; but as I shall + still bear your name, it is, I suppose, proper that you + should know where I purpose living. + + But, dear George, dearest George,--I wish you could know + how much dearer to me in spite of your cruelty than all + the world besides,--I cannot even yet bring myself to + believe that we can for ever be separated. Dear George, + endeavour to think how small has been my offence and + how tremendous is the punishment which you propose. The + offence is so small that I will not let myself down by + asking your pardon. Had you said a word sitting beside me, + even a word of anger, then I could have done so. I think I + could have made you believe how altogether accidental it + had been. But I will not do so now. I should aggravate + my own fault till it would appear to you that I had done + something of which I ought to be ashamed, and which + perhaps you ought not to forgive. I have done nothing of + which I am ashamed, and nothing certainly which you ought + even to think it necessary to pardon. + + +When she had got so far she sat for a while thinking whether she +would or would not tell him of the cause and the manner of her +silence. Should she refer him to his sister, who understood so well +how that silence had been produced? Should she explain to him that +she had in the first case hesitated to tell him her story because +her story had been so like to his own? But as she thought of it all, +she declared to herself that were she to do so she would in truth +condescend to ask his pardon. What she required of him was that he +should acknowledge her nature, her character, her truth to be such +that he had made a grievous mistake in attributing to her aught that +was a just cause of anger. "You stupid girl, you foolish girl, to +have given yourself and me such cause for discomfort!" That he should +have said to her, with his arm round her waist; that and nothing +more. Thinking of all this she resolved not to go into that subject. +Should she ever do so it must be when he had come back to her, and +was sitting there with his arm around her waist. She ended her +letter, therefore, very shortly. + + + As I must wait here till I hear from you, and cannot even + write to my mother till I do so, I must beg you to answer + my letter quickly. I shall endeavour to go on without + drawing any cheques. If I find it necessary I shall have + to write to my mother for money. + + Your most affectionate wife, + + CECILIA WESTERN. + + Oh, George, if you knew how I love you! + + +Then, as she did not like to send the letter out among the servants +without any address, and thus to confess to them that she did not +know where her husband had gone, she directed the letter to him at +his club in London. + +During the next day or two the pity of her servants, the silent, +unexpressed pity, was very hard to bear. As each morning came her +punishment seemed to become more and more intolerable to her. She +could not read. There were none among her friends, not even her +mother, to whom she could write. It was still her hope,--her faintest +hope, that she need confess to none of them the fact that her husband +had quarrelled with her. She could only sit and ponder over the +tyranny of the man who by his mere suspicions could subject a woman +to so cruel a fate. But on the evening of the third day she was told +that a gentleman had called to see her. Mr. Gray sent his card in to +her, and she at once recognised Mr. Gray as her husband's attorney. +She was sitting at the open window of her own bedroom, looking into +the garden, and she was aware that she had been weeping. "I will be +down at once," she said to the maid, "if Mr. Gray will wait." + +"Oh, ma'am, you do take on so dreadfully!" said the girl. + +"Never mind, Mary. I will come down and see Mr. Gray if you will +leave me." + +"Oh, ma'am, oh, Miss Holt, I have known you so long, may I not say a +word to you?" + +"I am not Miss Holt. I am still entitled to bear my husband's name." +Then the girl, feeling herself to have been rebuked, was leaving +the room, when her mistress jumped up from her seat, took her in +her arms, and kissed her. "Oh, Mary," she said, "I am unhappy, so +unhappy! But pray do not tell them. It is true that you have known me +long, and I can trust you." Then the girl, crying much more bitterly +than her mistress, left the room. + +In a few minutes Cecilia followed her, and entered the parlour into +which Mr. Gray had been shown, without a sign of tears upon her +cheeks. She had been able to assume a look of injured feminine +dignity, of almost magnificent innocence, by which the lawyer was +much startled. She was resolved at any rate to confess no injury done +by herself to her husband, and to say nothing to Mr. Gray of any +injury done by him to her. Mr. Gray, too, was a gentleman, a man over +fifty years of age, who had been solicitor to Mr. Western's father. +He knew the husband in this case well, but he had as yet known +nothing of the wife. He had been simply told by Mr. Western to +understand that he, Mr. Western, had no fault to find with the lady; +that he had not a word to say against her; but that unfortunately +circumstances had so turned out that all married happiness was +impossible for him. Mr. Gray had endeavoured to learn the facts; +but he had been aware that Mr. Western was a man who would not bear +pumping. A question or two he had asked, and had represented to his +client how dreadful was the condition to which he was condemning both +the lady and himself. But his observations were received with that +peculiar cold civility which the man's manner assumed when he felt +that interference was taken in matters which were essentially private +to himself. "It is so, Mr. Gray, that in this case it cannot be +avoided. I wish you to understand, that all pecuniary arrangements +are to be made for Mrs. Western which she herself may desire. Were +she to ask for everything I possess she must have it,--down to the +barest pittance." But at this moment he had not received his wife's +letter. + +There was a majesty of beauty about Mrs. Western by which Mr. Gray +was startled, but which he came to recognise before the interview was +over. I cannot say that he understood the cause of the quarrel, but +he had become aware that there was much in the lady very much on a +par with her husband's character. And she, when she found out, as she +did instinctively, that she had to deal with a gentleman, dropped +something of the hauteur of her silence. But she said not a word +as to the cause of their disagreement. Mr. Gray asked the question +in the simplest language. "Can you not tell me why you two have +quarrelled so quickly after your marriage?" But she simply referred +him to her husband. "I think you must ask Mr. Western about that." +Mr. Gray renewed the question, feeling how important it was that +he should know. But she only smiled, and again referred him to her +husband. But when he came to speak to her about money arrangements +she smiled no longer. "It will not be necessary," she said. + +"But it is Mr. Western's wish." + +"It will not be necessary. Mr. Western has decided that we +must--part. On that matter I have nothing to say. But there will be +nothing for any lawyer to do on my behalf. If Mr. Western has made +up his mind, I will return to my mother. I can assure you that no +steps need be taken as to money." "No steps will be possible," she +added with all that feminine majesty which was peculiar to her. "I +understand from you that Mr. Western's mind is made up. You can +tell him that I shall be ready to leave this house for my mother's, +in--let me say a week." Mr. Gray went back to town having been able +to make no other arrangement. He might pay the servants' wages,--when +they were due; and the tradesmen's bills; but for herself and her +own peculiar wants Mrs. Western would take no money. "You may tell +Mr. Western," she said, "that I shall not have to encroach on his +liberality." So Mr. Gray went back to town; and Mrs. Western carried +herself through the interview without the shedding of a tear, without +the utterance of a word of tenderness,--so that the lawyer on leaving +her hardly knew what her wishes were. + +"Nevertheless I think it is his doing," he said to himself. "I think +she loves him." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +TO WHAT A PUNISHMENT! + + +Mr. Western, when he received his wife's letter, after having given +his instructions to the lawyer, was miserable enough. But not on that +account did he think of changing his purpose. He had made up his +mind,--as men say, and having made it up he assured himself that he +had done it with ample cause. He could not quite explain to himself +the reasons for his anger. He did not quite know what were the faults +of which he accused his wife. But he was sure that his wrath was +just, and had come from sins on her part which it would be unbecoming +that he as a man and a husband should condone. And his anger was the +hotter because he did not know what those sins were. There had been +some understanding,--so he thought,--between his wife and Sir Francis +Geraldine which was derogatory to his honour. There had been an +understanding and a subsequent quarrel, and Sir Francis Geraldine had +been base enough to inform him of the understanding because of the +quarrel. Sir Francis no doubt had been very base, but not on that +account had his wife been less a sinner. What was it to him that Sir +Francis should be base? No vice, no lies, no cruelty on the part of +Sir Francis were anything to him. But his wife;--that she whom he +had taken to his bosom as his own, that she in whom he had believed, +she who was to be the future depository of all his secrets, his very +second self, that she, in the very moment in which he had exposed +to her the tenderness of his heart, that she should then have +entertained a confidential intercourse with such a one as Sir Francis +Geraldine, an intercourse of which she had intended that he should +know nothing,--that, that was more than he could endure. It was +this,--this feeling that he was to know nothing of it, which was too +much for him. It seemed to him that he had been selected to be a +stalking-horse for them in their intercourse. It was not that he ever +accused his wife of illicit love. He was not base enough to think +her so base as that. But there had been some cause for a mysterious +alliance as to which he had been kept in the dark. To be kept in the +dark, and by his own wife, was the one thing that was unendurable. +And then the light had been let in upon him by that letter from Sir +Francis, in which Sir Francis had offered "such courtesies as are +generally held to be pleasant in a neighbourhood!" The intention +had been that this old friendship should be renewed under his roof, +and be renewed without any information being given to him that it +had ever previously existed. This was the feeling that had made it +incumbent on him to repudiate a wife who had so treated him. This was +the feeling which forbad him to retreat from his suicidal purpose. +His wife had had a secret, a secret which it was not intended that he +should share, and her partner in the secret had been that man whom +of all men he had despised the most, and who, as he now learnt, had +been only the other day engaged to marry her. In fostering his wrath +he had declared to himself that it was but only the other day; and +he had come to think that at the very moment in which he had told +Cecilia Holt of all his own troubles she had then, even then, been +engaged to this abominable baronet. "I have got another man to offer +to marry me, and therefore our engagement, which is a trouble to us +both, may now be over." Some such communication as this had been +made, and he had been the victim of it. + +And yet as he thought of all this, and nursed his rage, and told +himself how impossible it was that he should even pretend to live +with such a woman with continued confidence, even then he was at +moments almost overcome by the tenderness of his recollections. He +had loved her so entirely; and she to his outward eyes and outward +ears had been so fit to be loved! He had thanked his stars that after +running into so great a peril with that other lady it had at last +been given to him to settle his heart where it might dwell securely. +She had required from him no compliments, none of the little +weaknesses of love-making, no pretences, had demanded from him the +taking of no trouble which would have grated against his feeling. She +had been everything that his very soul desired. Even on the day after +their wedding he had been able to sit down with her in a quiet and +assured conviction that she was all that he wanted to make him happy. +And she had played her part so well! She had been to him as though it +had been a fresh thing to her to love a man with all her heart, and +to be able to talk to him of her love. And yet she, the while, was +in secret and most intimate communication with a man to whom he +had been in the habit of applying within his own breast all the +vilest epithets which the language could afford. "Swindler, thief, +scoundrel," were the terms he had thought of. In his dislike to the +ways of the world in general he had declared to himself that the +world admitted such as Sir Francis within its high places without +disgust. This was the man who had coolly demanded to be intimate with +him, and had done so in order that he might maintain his acquaintance +with his wife! + +We know how wrong he was in these thoughts;--how grievously he +wronged her of whom he was thinking. Of the worst of all these sins +she was absolutely innocent;--of so much the worst that the fault of +which she had not been innocent was not worth regarding when thought +of in reference to that other crime. But still it was thus that he +believed, and though he was aware that he was about to submit himself +to absolute misery in decreeing their separation, yet there was to +his thinking no other remedy. He had been kept in the dark. To the +secrets of others around him he was he declared to himself absolutely +indifferent. They might have their mysteries and it would be nothing +to him. He had desired to have one whose mysteries should be his +mysteries; who should share every thought of his heart, and of whose +secret thoughts he desired to keep the only key. He had flattered +himself that it was so, and this had been the result! It may be +doubted whether his misery were not altogether as bitter as hers. + +"Of course she shall live with her mother if she pleases it," he +said to Mr. Gray on the following morning. "As to money, if she will +name no sum that she requires I must leave it to you to say what in +justice ought to be allowed to her. You know all the circumstances of +my property." + +"But I know none of the circumstances of your marriage," replied Mr. +Gray. + +"They were altogether of the usual kind." + +"None of the circumstances of your separation, I should have said." + +"It is unnecessary," replied Mr. Western, gloomily. + +"It will be very difficult to give her any advice." + +"You may take it if you will that the fault is all mine. I would +provide for her as I should be bound to do if by my own cruelty or my +own misconduct I had driven her from me!" He had no idea as he said +this that by his own cruelty and his own misconduct he was driving +her from him. + +"My conviction is that she will take nothing," said Mr. Gray. + +"In a matter of business she must take it. The money must be paid +to her, let her do what she will with it. Even though it should be +thrown into the sea, I must pay it." + +"I think you will find that she has a will of her own." + +"And she will find that I have," said Mr. Western with a frown. +It was exactly on this point that the husband and wife were being +separated. He had thought that she had calculated that when once they +were married she had carried her purpose in spite of his will. But he +would let her understand that it was not so. She had so far succeeded +that she was entitled to bear his name, but she had not mastered him +in the matter, and should not do so. + +"It is a thousand pities, Mr. Western, you will allow me to say so, +but it is a thousand pities. A most handsome lady:--with a fine +lady-like air! One in a thousand!" + +Mr. Western could not endure to hear the catalogue of his wife's +charms set forth to him. He did not want to be told by his lawyer +that she was "handsome" and "one in a thousand"! In that respect +their quarrel made no difference. No gentleman wishes another to +assure him that his wife is one in a thousand. An old mother might +say so, or an old aunt; hardly any one less near and less intimate +could be allowed to do so. Mr. Western was aware that no man in the +ordinary course of events would be less likely to offend in that way +than Mr. Gray. But in this case Mr. Gray should not, he thought, have +done it. He had come to Mr. Gray about money and not about his wife's +beauty. "I hardly think we need discuss that," he said, still with +a heavy frown on his brow. "Perhaps you will think over what I have +said to you, and name a sum to-morrow." + +"At the risk of making you angry I have to speak," continued Mr. +Gray. "I knew your father, and have known you all your life. If this +is to make her miserable, and if, as I gather, she has committed +no great fault, will it not be--wicked?" Mr. Gray sat silent for a +few moments, looking him in the face. "Have you consulted your own +conscience, and what it will say to you after a time? She has given +all that she has to you, though there has not been a shilling,--and +no money can repay her. One fault is not pardonable,--one only +fault." + +"No, no. I do not accuse her." + +"Nor dream that she is guilty,--if I understand the matter rightly." + +"No, I do not. But I do not come here to be interrogated about her +after this fashion,--nor to be told that I am wicked. For what sins +I commit I must be myself responsible. I am unable,--at any rate +unwilling,--to tell you the circumstances, and must leave you to draw +your own conclusions. If you will think over the matter, and will +name a sum, I shall be obliged to you." Then he was about to leave +the chamber, but Mr. Gray interposed himself between his client and +the door. + +"Pray excuse me, Mr. Western. I know that you are angry, but pray +excuse me. I should ill do my duty to an old client whom I respect +did I not dare, as being older than he is, to give the advice which +as a bystander I think that he requires." Mr. Western stood perfectly +silent before him, but clearly showing his wrath by the frown upon +his brow. "I venture to say that you are taking upon yourself as a +husband to do that which the world will not pardon." + +"I care nothing for the world." + +"Pardon me. You will care for it when you come to consider that its +decision has been just. When you have to reflect that you have ruined +for ever the happiness of a woman whom you have sworn to love and +protect, and that you have cast her from you for some reason which +you cannot declare and which is not held to justify such usage, then +you will regard what the world says. You will regard it because your +own conscience will say the same. If I mistake not you still love +her." + +"I am not here to discuss such points," said Mr. Western angrily. + +"Think of the severity of the punishment which you are inflicting +upon one whom you love; and of the effect it must have on her +feelings. I tell you that you have no right to do this,--unless she +has been guilty as you confess she has not." Then he seated himself +in his arm-chair, and Mr. Western left the chamber without saying +another word. + +He went out into Lincoln's Inn, and walked westward towards his Club, +hardly knowing in his confusion whither he was going. At first his +breast was hot with anger against Mr. Gray. The man had called him +wicked and cruel, and had known nothing of the circumstances. Could +it be wicked, could it be cruel for him to resent such treachery +as that of which he had been the victim? All his holiest hopes had +been used against him for the vilest purposes and with the most fell +effect! He at any rate had been ruined for ever. And the man had told +him about the world! What did he in his misery care for the world's +judgment? Cecilia had married him,--and in marrying him had torn his +heart asunder. This man had accused him of cruelty in leaving her. +But how could he have continued to live with her without hypocrisy? +Cruel indeed! What were her sufferings to his,--hers, who had +condescended to the level of Sir Francis Geraldine, and had +trafficked with such a one as that as to the affairs of their joint +happiness! To such a woman it was not given to suffer. Yes; she was +beautiful and she looked as a lady should look. Mr. Gray had been +right enough in that. But he had not known how looks may deceive, how +noble to the eye may be the face of a woman while her heart within is +ignoble, paltry, and mean. But as he went on with his walk by degrees +he came to forget Mr. Gray, and to think of the misery which was in +store for himself. And though at the moment he despised Mr. Gray, his +thoughts did occupy themselves exactly with those perils of which Mr. +Gray had spoken. The woman had trusted herself to his care and had +given him her beauty and her solicitude. He did in his heart believe +that she loved him. He remembered the last words of her letter--"Oh, +George, if you knew how I love you!" He did not doubt but that those +words were true. He did not suppose that she had given her heart to +Sir Francis Geraldine,--that she had truly and sincerely devoted +herself to one so mean as that! Such heart as she had to give had +been given to himself. But there had been traffic of marriage with +this man, and even continued correspondence and an understanding as +to things which had put her with all her loveliness on a level with +him rather than with her existing husband. What this understanding +was he did not, he said, care to inquire. It had existed and still +did exist. That was enough to make him know that she was untrue to +him as his wife,--untrue in spirit if not in body. But in truth he +did care to know. It was, indeed, because he had not known, because +he had been allowed only to guess and search and think about it, that +all this misery had come. He had been kept in the dark, and to be +kept in the dark was to him, of all troubles, the most grievous. When +he had first received the letter from Sir Francis he had not believed +it to be true;--from first to last it had been a fiction. But when +once his wife had told him that the engagement had existed, he +believed all. It was as though she had owned to him the circumstance +of a still existing intimate friendship. He had been kept in the +dark, but he did not know how far. + +But still there loomed to him as to the future, vaguely, the idea +that by the deed he was doing now, at this present moment, he was +sacrificing her happiness and his own for ever,--as regarded this +world. And the people would say that he had done so, the people +whose voices he could not but regard. She would say so, and her +mother,--and he must acknowledge it. And Lady Grant would know that +it had been so, and Mr. Gray would always think so to the end. And +his heart became tender even towards her. What would be her fate,--as +his wife and therefore debarred from the prospects of any other +future? She would live with her mother as any widow would live,--with +much less of hope, with less chance of enjoying her life, than would +any other widow. And when her mother should die she would be all +alone. To what a punishment was he not dooming her! + +If he could die himself it would be well for all parties. He had +taken his great step in life and had failed. Why should he doom her, +who was differently constituted, to similar failure? It had been a +great mistake. He had made it and now there was no escape. But then +again his pity for himself welled up in his heart. Why had he been +so allured, so deceived, so cozened? He had intended to have given +all good things. The very essence of his own being he had bestowed +upon her,--while she, the moment that his back was turned, was +corresponding with Sir Francis Geraldine! That thought he could not +stand. She, in truth, had been greatly in error in her first view of +the character of Sir Francis Geraldine; but it must be a question +whether he was not so also. The baronet was a poor creature, but not +probably so utterly vile as he thought him. As he turned it all over +in his mind, while wandering to and fro, he came to the conclusion +that Mr. Gray was wrong, and that it was impossible that she who had +been the sharer of the thoughts of Sir Francis Geraldine, should now +remain to share his. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +ONCE MORE AT EXETER. + + +Three weeks had passed and much had been done for Mrs. Western to fix +her fate in life. It was now August, and she was already living at +Exeter as a wife separated from her husband. Of much she had had to +think and much to determine before she had found that haven of rest. +Twice during the time she had received letters from her husband, +but each letter had been short, and, though not absolutely without +affection in its language, each letter had been absolutely obdurate. +He had been made quite sure that it was not for the benefit of either +of them that they should attempt to live together. Having come to +that decision, which he represented as unchangeable, he was willing, +he said, to do anything which she might demand for her future +satisfaction and comfort. "There is nothing you can do," she had said +when she had written last, "as you have refused to do your duty." +This had made him again angry. "What right had she to talk to me of +my duty seeing that she has so grossly neglected her own?" he said to +himself. Then he had suddenly gone from England, leaving no address +even with his sister or with his lawyer. But during this time his +mind was not quiet for one instant. How could she have treated him +so, him, who had been so absolutely devoted to her, who had so +entirely given himself up to her happiness? + +Lady Grant, when she had heard what was to be done, had hurried up to +London but had not found them. She had gone to Exeter and there she +had in vain endeavoured to comfort Cecilia. She had declared that her +brother would in time forgive. But Cecilia's whole nature had by this +time apparently been changed. "Forgive!" she had said. "What will +he forgive? There is nothing that he can forgive; nothing that can +be spoken of in the same breath with his perfidy and cruelty. Can I +forgive? Ask yourself that, Lady Grant. Is it possible that I should +forgive?" After two days spent in conversations such as these, Lady +Grant went back to town and discussed the matter with Mr. Gray. They +did not at present know her brother's address; but still there was a +hope that she might induce him to hear reason and again to consent +to live with his wife. "Of all men," she said to the lawyer, "he is +the most honest and the most affectionate; but of all men the most +self-willed and obstinate. An injustice is with him like a running +sore; and, alas, it is not always an injustice, but a something that +he has believed to be unjust." + +Cecilia had written at great length to her mother, telling her with +all details the story as it was to be told, and sparing herself in +nothing. "That wicked man has contrived it all. But, oh, that such a +one as my husband should have been weak enough to have fallen into a +pit so prepared!" Then Mrs. Holt had come up to town and taken her +daughter back with her to Exeter. Now, at last, on this occasion, +the old lady was both energetic and passionate. There had been much +discussion before they had both decided that they would again venture +to live together among their old friends in their old home. But here +Cecilia had shown herself to be once again stronger than her mother. +"Why not?" she said. "What have I done to make it necessary that you +should be torn away from your house? I am not at all ashamed of what +I have done." In this she had blazoned forth her courage with almost +a false conviction. She knew that she had done wrong;--that she had +done that of which among wives she ought to be ashamed. But her sin +had been so small in comparison with the punishment inflicted upon +her that it sunk to nothing even in her own eyes. She felt that she +had been barbarously used. The people of Exeter, or the people of the +world at large, might sympathise with her or not as they pleased. But +under such a mountain of wrong as she had endured, she would not show +by any conduct of her own that she could have in the least deserved +it. "No, mamma," she said; "let them stay away or let them come, I +shall be ready for either. I am a poor, wretched woman, whom to crush +utterly has been within the power of the man she has loved. He has +chosen to exercise it, and I must suffer. But he shall not make me +ashamed. I have done nothing to deserve his cruelty." + +And then when she had been at Exeter but a few days there came +another source of trouble,--though not of unmitigated trouble. She +told her mother that in due course of time her cruel husband would +become the father of a child. She would not write to him. He had +not chosen to let her know his address; nor was it fitting to her +feelings to communicate such a fact in a letter which she must +address secretly to his banker or to his club. Yet the fact was of +such a nature that it was imperative that he should know it. At last +it was told by Mrs. Holt to Lady Grant. Cecilia had herself attempted +it, but had found that she could not do it. She could not write the +letter without some word of tenderness, and she was resolved that no +word of tenderness should go from her to him. It would seem as though +she were asking for money, and were putting forward the coming of the +little stranger as a plea for it. She would ask for no money. She had +appealed to his love, and had appealed in vain. If he were hard, she +would be so too. In her heart of hearts she probably entertained the +idea of some possible future in which she might yet put the child +into its father's arms;--but it should be done not at her request. +It should be at his prayer. At least there was this comfort to +her,--that she no longer dreaded his power. He had so contrived that +to her thinking the fault was altogether on his side. Forgive! Oh +yes; she would forgive! Oh yes; she would forgive, so readily, so +sweetly, with the full determination that it should all be like a +blank nightmare that had come between them and troubled their joys. +But in the bottom of the heart of each it must be understood that it +had been hers to pardon and his to be pardoned. Or if not so, then +she must continue to live her widowed life at Exeter. + +Mrs. Holt was energetic and passionate rather than discreet. She +would not admit that her child had done any wrong, and could not be +got to understand but that the law should make a husband live with +his wife in the proper way. It was monstrous to her thinking that +her daughter should be married and taken away, and then sent back, +without any offence on her part. In the resentment which she felt +against Mr. Western she filled quite a new part among the people of +Exeter. "Oh, mamma; you are so loving, so good," said her daughter; +"but do not let us talk about it! Cannot you understand that, angry +as I am, I cannot endure to have him abused?" "Abused!" said Mrs. +Holt, kindling in her wrath. "I cannot hold myself without abusing +him." But it very soon did come to pass that Mr. Western's name was +not mentioned between them. Mrs. Holt would now and again clench her +fist and shake her head, and Cecilia knew that in her thoughts she +was executing some vengeance against Mr. Western; but there was a +truce to spoken words. Cecilia indeed often executed her vengeance +against her husband after some fashion of her own, but her mother did +not perceive it. + +Among their Exeter friends there soon came to be an actual breach +with Miss Altifiorla. Miss Altifiorla, as soon as it was known that +Mrs. Western had reappeared in Exeter, had rushed down to greet her +friend. There she had been received coldly by Cecilia, and more +than coldly by Cecilia's mother. "My dear Cecilia," she had said, +attempting to take hold of her friend's hand, "I told you what would +come of it." + +"There need be nothing said about it," said Mrs. Western. + +"Not after the first occasion," said Miss Altifiorla. "A few +words between us to show that each understands the other will be +expedient." + +"I do not see that any words can be of service," said Mrs. Western. + +"Not in the least," said Mrs. Holt. "Why need anything be said? You +know that she has been cruelly ill-used, and that is all you need +know." + +"I do know the whole history of it," said Miss Altifiorla, who had +taken great pride to herself among the people of Exeter in being the +best-informed person there as to Mrs. Western's sad affairs. "I was +present up to the moment, and I must say that if Cecilia had then +taken my advice things would have been very different. I am not +blaming her." + +"I should hope not," said Mrs. Holt. + +"But things would have been very different. Cecilia was a little +timid at telling her husband the truth. And Mr. Western was like +other gentlemen. He did not like to be kept in the dark by his wife. +You see that Cecilia has given mortal cause for offence to two +gentlemen." + +This was not to be endured. Cecilia did not exactly know all the +facts as they had occurred,--between Miss Altifiorla and Sir +Francis,--and certainly knew none of those which were now in process +of occurring; but she strongly suspected that something had taken +place, that some conversation had been held, between her friend and +Sir Francis Geraldine. She had been allowed to read the letter from +Sir Francis to her husband, and she remembered well the meaning of +it. But she could not remember the terms which he had used. She had, +however, thought that something which had passed between himself and +Miss Altifiorla had been the immediate cause of the writing of that +letter. She did think that Miss Altifiorla had, as it were, gone over +to the enemy. That she had been prepared to pardon. The enemy had +in fact told no falsehood in his letter. It had been her misfortune +that the story which he had told had been true;--and her further +misfortune that her husband should have believed so much more than +the truth. For all that she did not hold Miss Altifiorla to be +responsible. But when she was told that she had given cause for +mortal offence to two gentlemen, there was something in the phrase +which greatly aggravated her anger. It was as though this would-be +friend was turning against her for her conduct towards Sir Francis. +And she was just as angry that the friend should turn against her +for her conduct to her husband. "Miss Altifiorla," she said, "I must +request that there be no further conversation between us in reference +to the difference between me and my husband." + +"Miss Altifiorla!" said the lady. "Is it to come to that, +Cecilia;--between you and me who have enjoyed so much sweet +friendship?" + +"Certainly, if you make yourself so offensive," said Mrs. Holt. + +"It is the only mode by which I can show that I am in earnest," said +Cecilia. "If it does not succeed, I must declare that I shall be +unwilling to meet you at all. I told you to be silent, and you would +not." + +"Oh, very well! If you like to quarrel it will quite suit me. But in +your present condition I hardly think that you are wise in throwing +off your old friends. It is just the time when you ought to cling to +those who would be true to you." + +This was more than Cecilia could bear. "I shall cling to those who +are true to me," she said, leaving the room. + +"Oh, very well! Then I shall know how to conduct myself." This was +addressed to Mrs. Holt. + +"I hope you will conduct yourself, as you call it, somewhere away +from here. You're very fond of meddling, that's the truth; and +Cecilia in her present condition does not want to be meddled with. +Oh, yes; you can go away as soon as ever you please." Thereupon Miss +Altifiorla left the room and withdrew. + +It must be explained that this lady, since she was last upon the +scene, had learned to entertain new hopes, very exalted in their +nature. It had first occurred to her during those ten minutes at +the Paddington railway station, that it might possibly be so if she +played her cards well. And then how glorious would be the result! Sir +Francis Geraldine had squeezed her hand. If he might be made to go +on squeezing her hand sufficiently, how great might be the effect +produced! Lady Geraldine! How beautiful was the sound! She thought +that within all the bounds of the English peerage,--and she believed +that she knew that those bounds included the Baronets,--there was no +sweeter, no more glorious, no more aristocratic appellation. Lady +Geraldine! What a change, what a blissful change would that be! + +When she thought of the chill of her present life, of its want of +interest, of its insipid loneliness, and then told herself what might +be in store for her should she live to become Lady Geraldine, she +declared to herself that even though the chance might be very small, +the greatness of the reward if gained would justify the effort. Lady +Geraldine! And she saw no reason why her chance should be so very +small. She had a cousin with a pedigree longer than even that of Sir +Francis,--Count Altifiorla, who, indeed, had no money, but was a +genuine Count. She herself had a nice little sum of money, quite +enough to be agreeable to a gentleman who might be somewhat out at +elbows from the effects of Newmarket. And she did not think too +little of her own personal appearance. She knew that she had a good +wearing complexion, and that her features were of that sort which did +not yield very readily to the hand of time. There were none of the +endearing dimples of early youth, none of the special brightness +of English feminine loveliness, none of the fresh tints of sweet +girlhood; but Miss Altifiorla boasted to herself that she would look +the British aristocratic matron very well. She certainly had not that +Juno beauty which Cecilia Holt could boast, that beauty which could +be so severe to all chance comers, but which could melt at once and +become soft and sweet and easy to one favoured individual. Miss +Altifiorla acknowledged to herself that it was her nature always to +remain outwardly the same to all men. But then dress and diamonds, +and all the applied paraphernalia of aristocracy would, she felt, go +far with her. + +If Sir Francis could be once got to admire her, she was sure that +Sir Francis would never be driven to repent of his bargain from any +falling off on her part. She thought that she would know how to be +the master; but this would be an after consideration, and one as to +which she need not at present pay especial attention. Sir Francis +had squeezed her hand most affectionately, and there had been a +subsequent meeting at Exeter, where he had stayed a couple of hours +as he went through to his own property. And she was sure that he had +stayed for the purpose of meeting her. Since that affair with Cecilia +Holt he had not been made warmly welcome at the Deanery. Yet he had +stayed and had absolutely called upon Miss Altifiorla. He had found +her and had discussed Mr. and Mrs. Western with much sarcastic +humour. "Now you haven't!" Miss Altifiorla had said, when he told her +of the letter he had written. "How could you be so hard upon the poor +man?" "Perhaps the lady may think that I have been hard upon her," +Sir Francis had replied. "Perhaps she will know the meaning of tit +for tat. Perhaps she will understand now that one good turn deserves +another. It was not that I cared so much for her," he said. "I'd got +to feel that she was far too virtuous for me, too stuck up, you'll +understand. I wasn't at all disappointed when she played me that +trick. She didn't turn out the sort of girl that I had taken her for. +I knew that I had had an escape. But, nevertheless, tit for tat is +fair on both sides. She played me a trick, and now I've played her +one and we are even. We can each go to work again. She began a little +too soon, perhaps, for her own comfort; but that's her affair and not +mine." + +In answer to all this, Miss Altifiorla had only laughed and smiled +and declared that Cecilia had been served right, though she +thought,--she said that she thought,--that Sir Francis had been +almost too hard. "That's my way of doing business," he had added. "If +anyone wants me to run straight, they must begin by running straight +themselves. I can be as sweet as new milk if I'm well treated." Then +there had been a moment in which Miss Altifiorla had almost expected +that he was going to do something preparatory to declaring himself. +She was convinced that he was about to kiss her; but at the very +moment at which the event had been expected, Mrs. Green had been +announced and the kiss did not, alas, come off. She could hardly +bring herself to be civil to Mrs. Green when Sir Francis declared +that he must go to the station. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +"IT IS ALTOGETHER UNTRUE." + + +The month of September wore itself away at Exeter very sadly. An +attempt was made to bid Mrs. Western welcome back to her old home; +but from the nature of the circumstances there could hardly be much +heartiness in the attempt. Mrs. Thorne came over from Honiton to see +her, but even between Cecilia and Maude Hippesley, who was certainly +the most cherished of her Exeter friends, there could be no free +confidence, although there was much sympathy. Mrs. Western could +bring herself to speak evil to no one of her husband. She had, with +much passion, told the entire story to her mother, but when her +mother had begun to say hard words respecting him Cecilia had found +it impossible to bear them. Had her mother taken Mr. Western's +part, it may be doubted whether she could have endured that. There +was no speech concerning him which was possible for her ears. She +still looked forward to the chance of having him back again, and if +he would come back, if he would take her back, then he should be +entirely forgiven. He should be so forgiven that no mutual friend +should have heard a word of reproach from her lips. She herself would +know how hardly she had been used; but there should be no one to say +that she had ever been heard to complain of her husband. Not the less +was her heart full of wrath. Not the less did she during every hour +of the day turn over in her thoughts the terrible injustice of which +she had been the victim. But it can be understood that even to her +old friend Maude Hippesley, who was now happy in her new home as +Mrs. Thorne, she could not talk openly of the circumstances of her +separation. But there was, alas, no other subject of such interest to +her at the present moment as to give matter for free conversation. + +The Dean's family, and especially Mrs. Hippesley, attempted to be +kind to her. The Dean himself came down and called with much decanal +grandeur, conspicuous as he walked up to the Hall door with shovel +hat and knee breeches. But even the Dean could not do much. He had +intended to take Mrs. Western's part as against his brother-in-law, +having been no doubt prompted by some old feeling of favour towards +Cecilia Holt; but now he was given to understand that this Mr. +Western had also gone astray, and in such a way as to make it hardly +possible that he should talk about it. He called therefore and took +her by the hand, and expressed a hope that all things should be made +to go straight, and then he left her, taking her by the hand again, +and endeavouring to prove his esteem by his manner of doing so. +That was the beginning and the end of the Dean's comforting. Mrs. +Hippesley could do but little more. She did make an attempt at +confidential conversation, but was soon stopped by Cecilia's cold +manner. Mrs. Western, indeed, could speak to none. She could not +utter a word either for or against her husband. Mrs. Green came, of +course, more than once; but it was the same thing. Mrs. Western could +endure to talk and to be talked to about nothing. And though there +was friendship in it, it was but a subdued feeling of friendship,--of +friendship which under the circumstances had to be made silent. Mrs. +Green when she had taken her leave determined not to come again +immediately, and Mrs. Western when Mrs. Green had gone felt that she +did not wish her to come. She could live with her mother more easily +than with her old friends, because her mother understood the tone of +her mind. Each kept their thoughts to themselves on that subject of +which each was thinking; but each sympathised with the other. + +Lady Grant as soon as she understood the condition of things at once +began to correspond with her brother. To her it was a matter of +course that he should, sooner or later, take his wife back again. But +to her thinking it was most important that he should do so before +the fact of their quarrel had been flaunted before the world by an +enduring separation. She wrote in the first instance without throwing +blame upon either party, but calling upon her brother to show the +honesty and honour of his purpose by coming back at once to Durton +Lodge, and receiving Cecilia. "Of course it must be so sooner or +later," said Lady Grant, "and the quicker you do it so much easier +will be the doing." It should be told that Mrs. Holt had, without +telling her daughter in her passion, herself written to Mr. Western. +"You have sacrificed my daughter in your perversity, and that without +the slightest cause for blame." Such had been the nature of Mrs. +Holt's letter, which had reached him but a day before that of his +sister. Lady Grant's appeal had not been of the same nature. She had +said nothing of the sin of either of them; but had written as though +both had been in fault, misunderstanding each other, and neither +having been willing to yield a little. Then she had appealed to +her brother's love and affectionate disposition. It was not till +afterwards that she had been able to inform him of the baby that was +expected. + +Mr. Western answered his sister's letter from Dresden. To Mrs. Holt +he sent no reply: but he used her letter as the ground for that which +he made to Lady Grant, writing as though Mrs. Holt's words had come +directly from his wife. "They say that I have sacrificed Cecilia +without the slightest fault on her part. I have not sacrificed her, +and there has been terrible fault on her part. Fault! A young woman +marries a man while she is yet engaged to another, and tells the +poor dupe whom she has got within her clutches nothing of her first +engagement! Is there no fault in that? And she afterwards entertains +the first man at her husband's house, and corresponds with him, and +prepares at last to receive him there as a friend, and that without a +word on the subject spoken to her husband! Is there no fault in that? +And at last the truth becomes known to him because the base man is +discontented with the arrangements that have been made, and chooses +to punish her by exposing her at last to the wrath of her husband! I +say nothing of him. With his conduct in the world I have no concern. +But can all that have taken place with no fault on her part? What in +such a state of things should I have done? Should I have contented +myself simply with forbidding my wife to receive the man at my house? +Should I have asked her no question as to the past? Should I have +passed over that engagement which had been in full existence during +the last twelve months, and have said nothing of it? Or should I have +expressed my anger and then have forgiven her, and attempted to live +with her as though this man had never existed? Knowing me as you do, +can you say that that would have been possible to me? How could I +have lived with a wife of whom I knew so much as I had then learned +of mine,--but had known so little before. Had I been a man of the +world, living for the world, careless as to my own home except as to +the excellence of my dinner and the comfort of my bed, it might have +been possible. A man trusting for his happiness to such means might +perhaps have continued to exist and not have been broken-hearted. But +I think you will understand that such could not be the case with me. +I looked for my happiness to my wife's society, and I discovered when +I had married that I could not find it there. I could never respect +her! + +"But she tells me that having married her I have no right to +sacrifice her. As I had been fool enough to allow myself to be so +quickly allured by her charms, and had made those charms my own, I +was bound to stand by my bargain! That I take it is the argument +which she uses. I grant the truth of it. It is I that should be +sacrificed and not she. I have so acted that I am bound to submit +myself to such a verdict. What the law would require from me I cannot +say. The law might perhaps demand a third of my income. She shall +have two-thirds if she wishes it. She shall have seven-eighths if she +will ask for it. At present I have given instructions by which during +her life she shall have one-half. I am aware that in the heat of her +passion she has declined to accept this. It shall nevertheless be +paid to her credit. And I must deny that one who has achieved her +marriage after such a fashion has any right, when so treated, to +regard herself as sacrificed. I am the victim. But as I am convinced +that she and I cannot live happily together, I reserve to myself the +right of living apart." + +Lady Grant, when she received this letter, immediately sat down to +write to Cecilia, but she soon found it to be impossible to put +into a letter all that there was to be said. She was living in the +neighbourhood of Perth, whereas her sister-in-law was at Exeter. +And yet the matter was of such moment that she perceived it to be +essential that they should see each other. Perhaps it might be better +that Mrs. Western should come to her; and therefore she wrote to +her,--not explaining the cause of the proposed visit, to do which +would be as difficult as to write the full letter, but simply saying +that in the present condition of things she thought it would be well +that Cecilia should visit her. This however Mrs. Western refused to +do. She had come to her mother, she said, in her terrible difficulty, +and in her present circumstances would not at once leave her. She +considered herself bound to obey her husband, and would remain at +Exeter until she received instructions from him to leave it. + +There was in her letter a subdued tone of displeasure, which Lady +Grant felt that she had not deserved. She at any rate was anxious to +do her best. But she would not on that account abandon the task which +she had undertaken. Her only doubt was whether she had better go +to her brother at Berlin or to his wife at Exeter. She understood +perfectly now the nature of those mistaken suspicions which filled +her brother's mind. And she was almost sure of the circumstances +which had produced them. But she was not quite sure; and were she to +make mistakes in discussing the matter with him, such mistakes might +be fatal. She thought that with Cecilia she could not do other than +good. She knew her brother's mind better than did his wife, and she +imagined that between them such a story might be told,--a story so +true and so convincing that the husband might be brought back. + +The following very short letter therefore was written. "My dear +Cecilia, as you will not come to me at Perth, I must go to you at +Exeter. I shall start this day week and will be with you on the +following Wednesday. Do not mind as to a room for me, as I can stop +at the hotel; but it is I think imperative that we should see each +other. Yours affectionately, Bertha Grant." + +"Mamma, Lady Grant is coming here next week," said Cecilia to her +mother. + +"To this house next week?" + +"She says that she will come to the hotel; but of course we must +receive her here." + +"But why is she coming?" + +"I suppose it is because she thinks that something should be done on +behalf of her brother. I can understand her feeling, and am sure that +she sympathises with me. But I do not think that any good will come +of it. Unless he can be made to see how wrong he is nothing will be +able to change him. And until his very nature is changed he will +not be made to understand his own fault." It was thus for the first +time for a fortnight that Mrs. Western spoke to her mother about her +husband. + +At the day appointed Lady Grant came and Mrs. Western met her at the +station. "Of course you will not go to the hotel," she said; "there +is plenty of room at the house. I am greatly obliged to you for +coming. It seems a dreadful thing to have to come on such a business +all the way from Perth. I know that I ought to apologise to you for +the trouble." + +"Apologise! There can be no apologising between you and me. If I can +make each of you understand the truth there is not I think any doubt +but that you will be brought together." + +"If he can be made to see the truth, it may be so. I do not know that +there is any seeing of the truth necessary on the other side. I have +complained of nothing. He has taken upon himself to leave me for some +cause as to which I am perfectly in the dark. However we will not +talk about it now." Then she put Lady Grant into the fly and took her +home. + +There was nothing more said about it on that day. Mrs. Western, in +whose bosom something of her feeling of anger against her husband was +most unjustly extended towards Lady Grant, took care that they two +should not be at once left together again. Mrs. Holt was studiously +civil, but always with a feeling that Mr. Western and Lady Grant were +brother and sister. It was probable that the sister would take her +brother's part and consequently be at any moment converted into an +enemy. The first evening at Exeter was passed very uncomfortably +by the three ladies. But on the following morning a conference was +demanded. "My dear," said Lady Grant, "we have got to discuss all +this and we may as well do it at once. What does your husband mean +when he says that you were still engaged to Sir Francis when you +became engaged to him?" + +"Has he said so?" + +"Yes; indeed." + +"Then he has said what is altogether untrue. Nor is there the +slightest ground for such an untruth. Everything between me and Sir +Francis Geraldine was over before we had gone to the Continent. Why; +I left England in consequence of the shock it gave me to have to +abandon him. Does he know,--does your brother know what I told you?" + +"He did not know it when he wrote to me." + +"I suppose not. I should think he would send some message. As a +rule he is soft-hearted, although to me he has become suddenly so +inexpressibly cruel." + +"But you understand now the cause of his displeasure?" + +"Not in the least," said the angry wife. "I know of no cause for his +displeasure. Displeasure! I know of no cause to justify a step so +terrible as this." + +"Though the statement may be untrue as you say--" + +"It is untrue. It is altogether untrue." + +"But he has believed it!" + +"Why has he believed it? Why; why?" + +"Ah indeed; why?" said Lady Grant. "I suppose that no lie becomes +prevalent in the world for evil without some fault on the part of +somebody. Even though it may not have been expressed in exact terms, +some false person has intentionally spread it abroad. And then a man +in his wrath, when he hears the lie will distort it, and twist it, +and aggravate it,--to his own wrong and to that of others." + +"But my own husband! Him whom I so passionately loved!" + +"And who so passionately loved you! It was because of that that the +lie has so rankled! And, Cecilia, dear, let us be altogether open to +each other." + +"I have concealed nothing from you," said Mrs. Western proudly. + +"Nor wilfully from him. But you had kept from him a detail of your +past life,--of your life not long since past, which, as you yourself +felt, ought to have been made known to him." + +"It would have been made known to him." + +"Just so. But unfortunately he was first allowed to hear it from +another quarter. How it was told from thence you and I do not know." + +"I saw the letter to him from Sir Francis Geraldine. There was no +such statement in it as that you have now made. The tone of the +letter was ungentlemanlike and abominable; but the facts as declared +were true." + +"Do you believe then that he has invented this falsehood against you, +to excuse himself?" + +"No," said the deserted wife; "I do not think he invented it." + +"Nor I. How was it then that the idea has made its way into his +brain?" + +"He is suspicious," said Mrs. Western, speaking very slowly. + +"Yes; he is suspicious. It is the fault of his character. But he is +true and honest, and affectionate, and is by no means exacting or +self-seeking. You have no right to expect that your husband should be +perfect;--nor has he a right to expect it of you. He had no idea of +this engagement till it was told by him who of all men was bound not +to tell him." + +The conversation was carried on after this for a considerable time, +but was left chiefly in the hands of Lady Grant. Two or three times +Mrs. Western put in a word, but it was always to ask what might be +the effect upon him when he should have learned the tidings which she +had sent him. Lady Grant seemed to think that he would of course come +back and again take his wife to his bosom, as soon as he should be +made to understand all the exact facts as to her intercourse with Sir +Francis Geraldine and as to her quarrel with him. But poor Cecilia +seemed to believe more in the coming of the little stranger. "He can +reject me," she once said, with mingled bitterness and hope, "but I +cannot believe that such as he should reject his own child." + +But neither then nor on the following day, which was the last that +Lady Grant allowed herself at Exeter, could she be induced to send to +her husband a single word asking his pardon. "No," she said, holding +her head aloft as she spoke; "it is for me to pardon him. If he wants +my pardon he shall have it. He need not ask for it, but if he comes +he shall have it." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +MISS ALTIFIORLA RISES IN THE WORLD. + + +During this time a correspondence, more or less regular, was +maintained between Miss Altifiorla and Sir Francis Geraldine. Sir +Francis had gone to Scotland for the shooting, and rather liked the +interest of Miss Altifiorla's letters. It must be understood that it +had commenced with the lady rather than the gentleman. But that was a +fact of which he was hardly aware. She had written him a short note +in answer to some questions he had asked respecting Mrs. Western when +he had been in Exeter, and this she had done in such a manner as to +make sure of the coming of a further letter. The further letter had +come and thus the correspondence had been commenced. It was no doubt +chiefly in regard to Mrs. Western; or at first pretended to be so. +Miss Altifiorla thought it right to speak always of her old friend +with affectionate kindness;--but still with considerable severity. +The affectionate kindness might go for what it was worth; but it was +the severity, or rather the sarcasm, which gratified Sir Francis. And +then Miss Altifiorla gradually adopted a familiar strain into which +Sir Francis fell readily enough. In fact Sir Francis found that a +young woman who would joke with him, and appear to follow his lead in +her joking, was more to his taste than an austere beauty such as had +been his last love. + +"Lady Grant is here at this moment," Miss Altifiorla said in one of +her letters. She had by this time fallen into that familiar style of +writing which hardly declared whether it belonged to a man's letter +or a woman's. "I suppose you know who Lady Grant is. She is your +fortunate rival's magnificent widowed sister, and has come here I +presume to endeavour to set matters right. Whether she will succeed +may be doubtful. She is the exact ditto of her brother, who of all +human beings gives himself the finest airs. But Cecilia since her +separation has given herself airs too, and now leads her lonely +life with her nose high among the stars. Poor dear Cecilia! her +misfortunes do not become her, and I think they have hardly been +deserved. They are all the result of your bitter vengeance, and +though I must say that she in sort deserves it, I think that you +might have spared her. After all she has done you no harm. Consider +where you would be with Cecilia Holt for your wife and guardian. +Hard though you are, I do not think you would have been hard enough +to treat her as he has done. Indeed there is an audacity about his +conduct to which I know no parallel. Fancy a man marrying a wife and +then instantly bidding her go home to her mother because he finds +that she once liked another man better than himself! I wonder whether +the law couldn't touch him! But you have escaped from all that, and +I really can't understand why you should be so awfully cruel to the +poor girl." Then she signed herself "Yours always, F. A." as though +she had not been a woman at all. + +In all this there was much guile. She had already taken the length +of his foot, and knew how to flatter him, and to cheat him at the +same time. "That poor young woman of mine seems to have got into +difficulties," he said to Dick Ross, who had gone down with him to +Scotland. + +"You have made the difficulties for her," said Dick. + +"Well; I paved the way perhaps. That was only justice. Did she +think that she was going to hit me and that she wasn't to be hit in +return?" + +"A woman," growled Dick. + +"Women are human beings the same as men, and when they make +themselves beasts have got to be punished. You can't horsewhip a +woman; but if you look at it all round I don't see that she ought to +get off so much better than a man. She is a human creature and ought +to be made to feel as a man feels." + +But this did not suit Dick's morality or his sense of chivalry. +According to his thinking a woman in such matters ought to be allowed +to do as she pleased, and the punishment, if punishment there is to +be, must come from the outside. "I shouldn't like to have done it; +that's all." + +"You've always treated women well; haven't you?" + +"I don't say that. I don't know that I've ever treated anybody +particularly well. But I never set my wits to work to take my revenge +on a woman." + +"Look here, old fellow," said Sir Francis. "You had better contrive +to make yourself less disagreeable or else you and I must part. If +you think that I am going to be lectured by you, you're mistaken." + +"You ask me, and how can I help answering you? It was a shabby trick. +And now you may bluster as much as you please." Then the two sat +together, smoking in silence for five minutes. It was after breakfast +on a rainy day, such as always made Dick Ross miserable for the time. +He had to think of creditors whom he could not pay, and of his future +life which did not lie easily open before him, and of all the years +which he had misused. Circumstances had lately thrown him much into +the power of this man whom he heartily disliked and despised, but at +whose hands he had been willing to accept many of the luxuries of his +life. But still he resolved not to be put down in the expression of +his opinions, although he might in truth be turned off at a moment's +notice. "You are corresponding with that old woman now?" + +"What do you know about my correspondence?" + +"I know just what you told me. That letter there is from the lady +with the Italian name. She has more mischief even than you have, I +believe." At hearing this Sir Francis only laughed. "If you don't +take care she'll make you marry her, and then where will you be?" + +"Where would you be, old fellow?" + +"It don't much matter where I should be," said poor Dick. "There's +a revolver up-stairs and I sometimes think that I had better use +it. I've nothing but myself to look after. I've no baronetcy and no +estate, and can destroy none but myself. You can't hurt me very much. +I'll tell you what it is, Geraldine. You want a wife so that you may +cut out your cousin from the property. You're a good-looking fellow +and you can talk, and, as chance would have it, you had, I imagine, +got hold of a true lady. But she found you out." + +"What did she find out?" + +"The sort of fellow that you are. She met you among the Dean's +people, and had to find you out before she knew you. However she did +before it was too late, and she gave you the sack." + +"That's your idea." + +"She did," said Dick boldly. "And there should have been an end of +it. I don't say but what it might have been as well for you as for +her. But it suited you to have your revenge, and you've had it." + +"I rather think I have," said Sir Francis. + +"But you've got a woman to help you in getting it who seems to have +been as spiteful as you, without any excuse. I shouldn't think that +she'd make a good wife. But if you don't take care she'll be yours." +Then Dick got up and walked out of the room with his pipe in his +mouth, and went into his bedroom, thinking that it might be as well +for him to pack up and take his departure. The quarters they were in +were, as he declared to himself, "beastly" in wet weather; but his +shirts hadn't come from the wash, and he had no vehicle to take him +to the railway station without sending for a fly. And after all what +he had said to Sir Francis was not much worse than what had often +been said before. So he chucked off his slippers, and threw himself +upon the bed, thinking that he might as well endeavour to get through +the morning by going to sleep. + +Sir Francis when he found himself alone began to think over all the +circumstances of his present position. Among those circumstances +Dick Ross was one. When he had intended to marry Miss Holt he had +determined to get rid of Dick. Indeed Dick had been got rid of +partially, and had begun to talk of going to Canada or the Cannibal +Islands, by way of beginning the work of his life. Then Sir Francis +had been jilted, and Dick had again become indispensable to him. But +Dick had ever had a nasty way of speaking his mind and blowing up his +patron, which sometimes became very oppressive to the Baronet. And +now at the present moment he was more angry with him for what he had +said as to Miss Altifiorla than for his remarks as to his conduct to +the other lady. All that was simply severe in Dick's words he took +for a compliment. If Dick found fault with his practice he at any +rate acknowledged his success. But his remarks as to the second lady +had been very uncourteous. He had declared that she with the Italian +name was a worse devil even than himself, and had warned him not +to marry the fiend. Now he had nearly made up his mind that he +would marry her. With all the ladies with whom he had hitherto been +connected he had become aware that, in marrying them, he must more +or less alter his manner of life. With Miss Altifiorla no such +alteration would be necessary. He attributed a certain ease which she +possessed to her Italian blood, and thought that he would be able +to get on with her very comfortably. To marry was imperative with +him,--because of his cousin. But he thought that were he to marry +Miss Altifiorla he might continue to live his ordinary life almost +without interruption. He had considered that in doing so he need not +even dismiss Dick Ross. But now, in consequence partly of the great +discourtesy of Dick's remarks and partly from his strong inclination +for Miss Altifiorla, he began to think that after all Dick had better +go. Just at this moment Dick's fortunes were, he knew, very low. One +sum of money had been lost at cards, and another sum of money had not +come. Dick's funds were almost absolutely worn out. But that was only +a reason the more for parting with him. He did not care to have to +deal with a man who had to wear out his old clothes in his house +because he had not credit with his tailor to get a new coat and +trousers. He thought that he would part with Dick; but he had not +quite made up his mind when he sat down to write his letter to Miss +Altifiorla. + +"My dear Miss Altifiorla," he said. "I really don't see that you +have any reason to blow me up as you do about 'poor Cecilia.' I do +not think that poor Cecilia has had it at all hotter than she has +deserved; and when you tell me that I have been awfully cruel to the +poor girl, you seem to forget that the poor girl began the war by +being awfully cruel to me. If you and I should ever come to know +each other, you may be sure that I shall never treat any woman well +because she has treated me badly. It's a kind of gallantry I cannot +understand, and must make a man's conduct quite indifferent to +the sex generally. If you're to treat all alike, whether they run +straight or bolt, why shouldn't they all bolt? It would come to +the same thing in the end. There is Dick Ross been making himself +uncommonly disagreeable on the same subject. I don't mind your +lecturing me a little,--chiefly because you don't think it; but I'll +be hanged if I take it from him. He has not done so very well himself +that he is entitled to blow up anyone. + +"Mind you write and tell me what happens over at St. David's." (Mrs. +Holt lived in Exeter at St. David's.) "I shall be glad to know +whether that respectable person, Mr. Western, comes back again. I +don't think she'll have a good time if he does, and if he don't I +sha'n't break my heart." Then he put his pen down and sat for a while +thinking what should be his last paragraph. Should he put an end to +all his doubts and straightway make his offer, or should he dally a +little longer and still keep the power in his own hands? At last he +said to himself that even if he wrote it his letter would not go till +to-morrow morning, and he would have the night to think about it. +This consideration got the better of his prudence and he did write +it, simply beginning a new sentence on the page. "Don't you think +that you and I know each other well enough to make a match of it? +There is a question for you to answer on your own behalf, instead of +blowing me up for any cruelty to Cecilia Holt." + +Then he signed his name, "Yours ever, F. G." + +Miss Altifiorla when she received the letter was surprised, but not +startled. She had expected that it would come, but not so quickly; +and it may be said of her that she had quite made up her mind as to +the final answer to be given if it should come. But still she had to +think much about it before she wrote her reply. It might be very well +for him to be sudden, but any over-suddenness on her part would put +him on his guard. If he should be made to feel alarmed at what he had +done, if he should be once frightened at his own impetuousness and +hers, he would soon find his way back again out of the difficulty. +But still she must flatter him, still she must make him think that +she loved him. It would not at all do for her to write as though the +thing were impossible. Then in a pleasant reverie she gave herself +up for a while to meditating over the sudden change which had come +upon her views of life. She remembered how strong she had been +in recommending Cecilia not to marry this man, and how she had +congratulated her when she found that she had escaped. And she +remembered the severe things she had said about Mr. Western. But in +her thoughts there was nothing of remorse or even of regret. "Well, +well; that it should have come to this! That he should have escaped +from Cecilia and have chosen me! Upon the whole it will be much +better for him. I shall tread on his corns less than she would, and +be less trodden upon, too, than she. It may be that I must tread on +his corns a little, but I will not begin till after my marriage." +Such was the nature of her thoughts. Perhaps an idea did creep in +as to some awkwardness when she should meet Cecilia. But they could +never see much of each other, and it might be that there would be no +such meeting. "What does it matter?" she said, as she turned to her +writing-table. + +But this was not till three days had passed after the receipt of the +proposal. Three days, she thought, was a fitting time to show that, +though hurried by an affair of so much moment, she was not too much +hurried. And then she wrote as follows:-- + + + MY DEAR SIR FRANCIS, + + Your letter has almost taken away my breath. Why, you know nothing + or little about me! And since we have been acquainted with each other + our conversation has chiefly been about another lady to whom you were + engaged to be married. Now you ask me to be your wife; at least, if I + understand your letter, that is its purport. If I am wrong, of course + you will tell me so. + + But of course I know that I am not wrong; and of course I am + flattered, and of course pleased. What I have seen of you I have + altogether liked, and I do not know why we should not be happy + together. But, marriage! marriage is a most important step,--as, no + doubt, you are well aware. Though I am quite earnest in what I am + saying, still I cannot but smile, and can fancy that you are smiling, + as though after all it were but a joke. However, give me but one week + to think of it all, and then I will answer you in sober earnest. + + Yours ever (as you sign yourself), + + F. A. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +A MAN'S PRIDE. + + +About a week after Lady Grant had gone, Mrs. Western received a +letter from her husband. She had expected that he would write, +and had daily looked for the letter. But when it did come she did +not know whether to take it as a joy or a source of additional +discomfort. There was in it hardly a word of declared affection. +Nothing was said as to his future life or hers; but he did write, as +she thought, in a familiar and loving strain as to the event which +had yet to be expected for many months. "My sister has told me your +news," he said, "and I cannot but let you know how anxious I shall +be both for your safety and for that of the stranger. If there be +anything that I can do for your comfort, if you will ask me, you may +be sure that it will be done. I am still at Dresden, and have no idea +of immediately returning to England." There was no commencement to +this, nor any ending. He did not even sign his name, nor call her his +wife, or his dear Cecilia. Upon the whole she felt that it rather +confirmed her sentence of banishment than gave her reason for hope. +He had felt when he wrote it that he could not remain altogether +silent, but had yet determined to awaken no hopes by an assurance of +his returning love. "In fact, the letter," she said to her mother, +"must be taken as meaning nothing. He did not choose to subject +himself to the charge of having been indifferent to the coming of +such an event. But beyond this he had nothing to say to me." Poor +Mrs. Holt remained altogether silent when her daughter discussed the +subject. She knew that she could not speak without loud abuse, and +she knew also that her daughter would not allow her to abuse him. + +Cecilia, without asking the advice of anyone, resolved that she would +not answer the letter. She could not write without using affectionate +language, and such words should never come from her till she had +first been addressed with full affection by him. "Never," she had +said to herself a score of times; "never!" The meaning of this +had been that having been so cruelly ill-used she would do and +say nothing that might be taken as evidence that she had thought +herself in the wrong. She would bear it all rather than give him to +understand that she did not appreciate his cruelty. She had told him +of her love, and he had not vouchsafed to say a word to her in reply. +It was of the injustice done to her that she complained in the words +which she was constantly framing for herself; but it was the apparent +want of affection which was deepest in her heart. Though he had been +twice as cruel, twice as hard, she would have been less unhappy had +she succeeded in drawing from him one word of affection. "What can he +do for my comfort?" she said to herself again and again. "He means +that if I want money I shall have it, so that he may avoid the +disgrace of leaving his wife and his child unprovided for. I will +not have his money, unless he also come himself." She would not even +write to Lady Grant, or let her know that she had received a letter +from her husband. "Oh, yes; I have heard from him. There is his +letter," and she flung the document across the table to her mother. +Having done so she at once left the room, so that there should be no +discussion on the matter. "That there should be not a word of love in +it; not a single word," she went on saying to herself. "How hard must +be a man's heart, and how changeable! He certainly did love me, and +now it has all gone, simply through an unworthy suspicion on his own +part." + +But here she showed how little able she had been as yet to read the +riddle of a man's heart,--how ignorant she had been of the difficulty +under which a man may labour to express his own feeling! That +which we call reticence is more frequently an inability than an +unwillingness to express itself. The man is silent, not because he +would not have the words spoken, but because he does not know the +fitting words with which to speak. His dignity and his so-called +manliness are always near to him, and are guarded, so that he should +not melt into open ruth. So it was with Mr. Western. Living there +all alone at Dresden, seeing no society, passing much of his time +in a vain attempt to satisfy himself with music and with pictures, +he spent all his hours in thinking how necessary his wife had made +herself to his comfort during the few months that they were married. +He had already taught himself to endeavour to make excuses for +her,--though in doing so he always fell back at last on the enormity +of her offence. Though he loved her, though he might probably pardon +her in his weakness, it was impossible that the sin should be washed +out. His anger still burned very hotly, because he could not quite +understand the manner in which the sin had been committed. There was +a secret, and he did not know the nature of the secret. There had +been an understanding, of which he did not even yet know the nature, +between his wife and that base baronet. And then the terrible truth +of his memory added to his wounds. He thought of all the words +that had been spoken, and which he felt ought to have given her an +opportunity of telling the truth,--and would have done so had she not +purposely kept the secret. He had playfully asked her how it had been +that she had loved no other man, and then she had remained silent in +a manner which he now declared to himself to be equal to a falsehood. +And when he had been perfectly free with his own story, she had still +kept back hers. She had had her story, and had resolved that he +should not know it, even though he had been so open with his. He no +doubt had been open at a time when he had no right to expect her to +be equally so; but when the time did come then, then she had been a +traitor to him. When accepting his caresses, and returning them with +all a young wife's ardour, even at that moment she had been a traitor +to him. Though in his arms she had thought,--she must have continued +to think,--of some unholy compact which existed between her and Sir +Francis Geraldine. And even now she had not told him the nature of +that compact. Even now she might be corresponding with Sir Francis +or seeing him for aught that he knew to the contrary. How was it +possible that he should pardon a wife who had sinned against him as +she had sinned? + +And yet he was so far aware of his own weakness, as to admit to +himself that he would have taken her back to him if she had answered +his last letter in a contrite spirit and with affectionate words. +He would have endeavoured to forgive if not to forget, and would +have allowed himself to fall into the loving intimacy of domestic +life,--but that she was cold and indifferent, as well as treacherous. +So he told himself, keeping his wrath hot, though at the same time +his love nearly mastered him. But in truth he knew nothing of things +as they really were. He had made the mistake of drawing a false +conclusion from some words written by Sir Francis, and then of +looking upon those words as containing the whole truth. Sir Francis +had no doubt intended him to think that he and Cecilia Holt had come +to some rupture in their engagement from other than the real cause. +He had intended Mr. Western to believe that they had both agreed, and +that they had merely resolved between them that they had better not +be husband and wife. He had intended to convey the idea that he had +been more active in so arranging it than Cecilia herself. Cecilia +though she had read the letter had done so in such a frame of mind +as hardly to catch the truth. But he, Mr. Western, had caught it +altogether, and had believed it. Though he knew that the man was a +dishonest liar yet he had believed the letter. He was tortured at +the thought that his wife should have made herself a party to such a +compact, and that the compact should still have remained in existence +without his knowledge. Although there were hours during which he was +most anxious to return to her,--in which he told himself that it +was more difficult to stay away from her than even to endure her +faithlessness; though from day to day he became convinced that he +could never return to the haunts of men or even to the easy endurance +of life without her, yet his pride would ever come back to him and +assure him that as a reasonable man he was unable to put up with +such treachery. He had unfortunately been taught to think, by the +correspondence which had come from the matter of his cousin's racing +bet, that Sir Francis Geraldine was the very basest of mankind. It +was unfortunate because he had no doubt been induced to think worse +of his wife because she had submitted herself and continued to submit +herself to a man who was in his eyes so contemptible. He could not +endure the idea that a woman for whom such a partnership had had +charms should be the chosen companion of all his hours. He had +already lived with her for weeks which should have been enough to +teach him her character. During those weeks he had been satisfied +to the very full. He had assured himself frequently that he had at +last met a woman that suited him and made her his own. Had he known +nothing of Sir Francis Geraldine he would have been thoroughly +contented. Then had come the blow, and all his joys were "sicklied +over" with the unhealthy tone which his image of her former lover +gave him. She became at once to him a different creature. Though he +told himself that she was still the same Cecilia as had been his +delight, yet he told himself also that she was not the same as he had +fancied her when he at first knew her. + +There is in a man a pride of which a woman knows nothing. Or rather a +woman is often subject to pride the very opposite. The man delights +to think that he has been the first to reach the woman's heart. The +woman is rejoiced to feel that she owns permanently that which has +been often reached before. The man may know that in his own case it +is not so with him. But as there has been no concealment, or perhaps +only a little to conceal, he takes it as it comes and makes the best +of it. His Mary may have liked some other one, but it has not gone +farther. Or if she has been engaged as a bride there has been no +secret about it. Or it has been a thing long ago so that there has +been time for new ideas to form themselves. The husband when he does +come knows at any rate that he has no ground of complaint, and is not +kept specially in the dark when he takes his wife. But Mr. Western +had been kept specially in the dark, and was of all men the least +able to endure such treatment. To have been kept in the dark as to +the man with whom the girl was engaged, as he thought, at the very +moment in which she had accepted him! To have been made use of as a +step, on which a disadvantageous marriage might be avoided without +detriment to her own interest! It was this feeling which made him +utterly prostrate,--which told him that death itself would be the one +desirable way out of his difficulties if death were within his reach. + +When he received the letter from his sister telling him that he might +probably become the father of a child, he was at the first prepared +to say that thus would they two be reconciled. He could hardly live +apart, not only from the mother of his child, but from the child +itself. He went away into solitude and wept hot tears as he thought +of it all. But ever as he thought of it the cause of his anger came +back to him and made him declare to himself that in the indulgence +of no feeling of personal tenderness ought he to disgrace himself. +At any rate it could not be till she should have told him the whole +truth,--till she should have so told her story as to enable him to +ascertain whether that story were in all respects true. At present, +as he said to himself, he was altogether in the dark. But in fact +had he now learned the very story as it had existed, and had Cecilia +told it as far as she was able to tell it all, she would even in +his estimation have been completely white-washed. In her perfect +absolution from the terrible sin of which he now accused her he would +have forgiven and forgotten altogether the small, the trifling fault, +which she had in truth committed. + +There was something of nobility in all these feelings;--but then that +something was alloyed by much that was ignoble. He had resolved that +were she to come back to him she must come acknowledging the depth of +her sin. He would endeavour to forgive though he could not forget; +but he never thought to himself in these hours that it would be well +for him to be gracious in his manner of forgiveness. To go to her and +fetch her home to him, and say to her that all that was past should +be as a dream, a sad and ugly dream, but one to which no reality was +attached, never occurred to him. He must still be the master, and, in +order that his masterdom might be assured, full and abject confession +must be made. Yet he had such an idea of his wife, that he felt that +no such confession would be forthcoming, and therefore to him it +appeared ever more and more impossible that they two should again +come together. + +With Cecilia the matter was regarded with very different eyes. To +her, too, it was apparent that she had been treated with extremest +cruelty. She, too, was very hot in her anger. In discussing +the matter with herself, she allowed herself thoughts in which +indignation against her husband was maintained at a boiling heat. But +nevertheless she had quite resolved to forgive him altogether if he +would once come to her. And to insure her forgiveness no word even +of apology should be necessary. She knew that she would have to deal +with a man to whom the speaking of such words would be painful, and +none should be expected, none asked for. If he would but show her +that he still loved her, that should suffice. The world around them +would of course know that she had been sent away from him, and then +taken back. There was in this much that was painful,--a feeling +full of dismay as she reflected that all her friends, that her +acquaintance, that the very servants should know that she had been so +disgraced. But of all that she would take no notice,--no notice as +far as the outside world was concerned. Let them think, let them talk +as they would, she would then have her one great treasure with which +to console herself, and that treasure, if once more her own, would +suffice for her happiness. In her hottest anger she told herself from +time to time that her anger would all depart from her,--that it would +be made to vanish from her as by a magician's wand,--if she could +only once more be allowed to feel his arm round her waist. + +In all this she had no friend with whom to discuss either her anger +or her hopes. Her mother she knew shared her anger to the full, but +entertained hopes altogether different. Her desires were so different +that they hardly amounted to hopes. Yes, he might be allowed to +return, but with words of absolute contrition, with words which +should always be remembered against him. Such would have been Mrs. +Holt's expression as to the state of things had she ventured to +express herself. But she understood enough of her daughter's feelings +to repress them. + +The only person who sympathised with Cecilia and her present +condition was the girl who had once before evoked from her so +strong a feeling of tenderness. She did know that the man had to be +forgiven, terrible as had been his sin, and that nothing more was to +be said about it. "Oh, ma'am," she said, "he'll come back now! I'm +sure he'll come back now, and never more have any of them silly +vagaries." + +"Who can say what vagaries a man may choose to indulge?" + +"That's true too, ma'am. That any man should have had such a vagary +as this! But he's dying to come back. I'm sure of it. And when he +does come and finds that he's let to come quiet, and that he's asked +to say nothing as he don't like, and that you are all smiles to him +and kindness,--and then with the baby coming and all,--my belief is +that he'll be happier then than he was even the first day when he had +you." This, though spoken in rough language, so exactly expressed +Cecilia's wishes, that she did feel that her maid at least entirely +sympathised with her. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +DICK TAKES HIS FINAL LEAVE. + + +When Sir Francis received the reply which Miss Altifiorla sent to his +letter, he was not altogether satisfied with it. He had expected that +the lady would at once have flown into his arms. But the lady seemed +to hesitate, and asked for a week to think about it. This showed +so much ingratitude on her part,--was so poor an acknowledgment of +the position which he had offered her, that he was inclined to be +indignant. "D---- it; if she don't care about it she sha'n't have +it." It was thus that he expressed himself aloud in the hearing of +Dick Ross; but without however explaining who the she was, or what +the it was, or indeed in any way asking Dick's opinion on the matter. +Not the less had Miss Altifiorla been wise in the nature of the +reply which she had given. Had she expressed her warm affection, and +at once accepted all that had been proffered, the gentleman would +probably have learnt at once to despise that which had been obtained +so easily. As it was he was simply cross, and thought that he had +determined to withdraw the proposal. But still the other letter was +to come, and Miss Altifiorla's chance was still open to her. + +The immediate consequence of these doubts in the mind of Sir Francis +was a postponement of the verdict of banishment which he had +resolved to pronounce against Dick as soon as his marriage with +Miss Altifiorla should have been settled. He did not wish to leave +himself altogether alone in the world, and if this Dick were +dismissed it would be necessary that he should provide himself with +another,--unless he were minded to provide himself with a wife +instead. He became therefore gradually more gracious after the little +speech which has been above given. Dick had understood perfectly who +the "she" had been, and what was the "it" intended. As no question +had been asked he had made no reply, but he was quite quick enough +to perceive the working of the Baronet's mind. He despised the +Baronet almost as thoroughly as did Mr. Western. But for certain +purposes,--as to which he despised himself also,--the friendship of +the Baronet suited him just at present. + +One morning, for private reasons of his own, Dick went into Perth, +which was twenty miles distant from the Baronet's shooting lodge, and +returned the same day bringing the postbag with him from a point in +the road at which it was daily left by the postman. Sir Francis with +unusual haste read his letters, and among them was one from Miss +Altifiorla. But Dick had a budget of news which he was anxious to +reveal, and which he did tell before Sir Francis had said anything as +to his own letter. There was another friend, one Captain Fawkes, at +the Lodge with them, and Dick had at first been restrained by this +man's presence. As soon as he found himself alone with Sir Francis he +began. "Lady Grant has gone off to Dresden," he said. + +"Where did you hear that?" asked the Baronet. + +"They told me so at the club. Everybody in Perth knows that she has +gone;--and why." + +"What business is it of theirs? Since you know so much about it, why +has she gone?" + +"To persuade her brother to come home and take his wife once more. It +was an infernal shame that they should ever have been separated. In +fact she has gone to undo what you did. If she can only succeed in +making the man know the whole truth about it, free from all lies, +she'll do what she's gone to do." + +"What the devil do you mean by lies?" said Sir Francis, rising in +wrath from his chair. + +"Well; lies mean lies. As I haven't applied the word to anyone I +suppose I may be allowed to use it and to stand by it. I suppose you +know what lies mean, and I suppose you are aware that Western has +been made to believe lies about his wife." + +"Who told them?" + +"I say nothing about that," said Dick. "Lies are a sort of thing +which are very commonly told, and are ordinarily ascribed to the +world at large. The world never quarrels with the accusation. The +world has told most infernal lies to this man about his wife. I don't +suppose the world means to call me out for saying as much as that." +Then the two remained silent for some moments and Dick proceeded with +his eloquence. "Of course there have been lies,--damnable lies. Had a +man, or a woman,--it's all one,--gone to that poor creature with a +pistol in his hand and blown her brains out he wouldn't have done a +more dastardly action." + +"What the devil do you mean by that?" said the other. + +"I'm not talking about you,--specially. I say lies have been told; +but I do not say who has told them. I rather suspect a woman to be at +the bottom of it." Sir Francis who had in his pocket a most tender +and loving reply from Miss Altifiorla knew very well who was the lady +to whom Dick referred. "That man has been made to believe certain +things about his wife which are all lies,--lies from beginning to +end." + +"He has been made to believe that she was engaged to me first. Is +that a lie?" + +"That depends on the way in which it was told. He didn't send her +home merely for that. I am not saying what the lies were, but they +were damnable lies. You sometimes tell me that I ain't any better +than another,--or generally a great deal worse. But I'd rather have +blown my brains out than have told such lies about a woman as have +been told here by somebody. You ask me what they were saying at the +club in Perth. Now you know it pretty well all." + +It must be supposed that what had passed at the club had induced Dick +to determine that it would no longer become him to remain with Sir +Francis as his humble friend. Very evil things had in truth been +said of Sir Francis, and they were more than Dick could endure. The +natural indignation of the man was aroused, so that by degrees it had +come to pass that he hated the Baronet. He had before said very sharp +words to him, but had now gone home resolved in his righteous mind to +bring things to a conclusion. It matters little in the telling of our +story to know what lies Dick did in truth impute to his friend; but +they were of a nature to fill his mind with righteous wrath and to +produce from him the eloquence above described. + +Sir Francis, whose vanity had been charmed by the letter which he +kept in his pocket, had already made up his mind to part with Dick. +But Dick's words as now spoken left him no alternative. It was a +question with him whether he could not so part with him as to inflict +some further punishment. "Why, Dick," he said smiling, "you have +broken out quite in a new place." + +"I know nothing about that." + +"You must have been with the Bishop and taken a lesson in preaching. +I never heard you come out so strong before." + +"I wish you'd heard what some of those men at Perth said about you." + +"And how you answered them as my friend." + +"As far as I remember I didn't say much myself. What I did say +certainly was not in your favour. But I was hardest on that sweet +young lady with the Italian name. You won't mind that because you and +she are two, now." + +"Can you tell me, Ross, how long you have been eating my bread?" + +"I suppose I could." + +"Or how much you have drank of my wine?" + +"I haven't made a calculation of that nature. It isn't usual." + +"For shooting here, how much have you ever contributed?" + +"When I shoot I contribute nothing. All the world understands that." + +"How much money do you owe me?" + +"I owe you nothing that I've ever promised to pay." + +"And now you think it a sign of a fine gentleman to go and talk +openly at a club about matters which you have heard from me in +confidence! I don't. I think it a very--" + +"A very what, Sir Francis? I have not done as you allege. But you +were going to observe a very--; what was it?" It must be here +explained that Dick Ross was not a man who feared many things; but +that Sir Francis feared much. Dick had little to lose by a row, +whereas the Baronet would be injured. The Baronet therefore declined +to fill in the epithet which he had omitted. He knew from former +experience what Dick would and what he would not bear. + +"I don't choose to descend to Billingsgate," said Sir Francis. "I +have my own ideas as to your conduct." + +"Very gentlemanlike, isn't it?" said Dick, with a smile, meaning +thereby to impute it to Sir Francis as cowardice that he was +unwilling to say the reverse. + +"But, under all the circumstances, it will be quite as well that you +should leave the Lodge. You must feel that yourself." + +"Oh; quite so. I am delighted to think that I shall be able to leave +without having had any unpleasant words. Perhaps to-morrow will do?" + +"Just as you please." + +"Then I shall be able to add a few drops to all those buckets of +claret which you threw in my teeth just now. I wonder whether any +gentleman was ever before asked by another gentleman how much wine +he had drank in his house, or how many dinners he had eaten. When +you asked me did you expect me to pay for my dinners and wine?" Sir +Francis refused to make any reply to this question. "And when you +delicately hinted at my poverty, had you found my finances to be +lower than you'd always known them? It is disagreeable to be a +penniless younger brother. I have found it so all my life. And I +admit that I ought to have earned my bread. It would have been much +better for me had I done so. People may declare that I am good for +nothing, and may hold me up as an example to be shunned. But I +flatter myself that nobody has called me a blackguard. I have told +no lies to injure men behind their backs;--much less have I done so +to injure a woman. I have sacrificed no girl to my revenge, simply +because she has thrown me over. In the little transactions I have +had I have always run straight. Now I think that upon the whole I +had better go before dinner, and not add anything to the bucket of +claret." + +"Just as you please," said Sir Francis. Then Dick Ross left the room +and went away to make such arrangements for his departure as were +possible to him, and the readers of this story shall see him and hear +him no more. + +Sir Francis when he was left alone took out Miss Altifiorla's letter +and read it again. He was a man who could assume grand manners in his +personal intercourse with women, but was peculiarly apt to receive +impression from them. He loved to be flattered, and was prone to +believe anything good of himself that was said to him by one of them. +He therefore took the following letter for more than it was worth. + + + MY DEAR SIR FRANCIS,--I know that you will have been quite + quick enough to have understood when you received my + former little scrawl what my answer would be. When a woman + attempts to deceive a man in such a matter she knows + beforehand that the attempt will be vain; and I certainly + did not think that I could succeed with you. But yet a + feeling of shamefacedness,--what some ladies consider as + modesty, though it might more properly be called _mauvaise + honte_,--forced me into temporary silence. What could I + wish better than to be loved by such a one as you? In the + first place there is the rank which goes for much with + me. Then there is the money, which I admit counts for + something. I would never have allowed myself to marry even + if I had chanced to love a poor man. Then there are the + manners, and the peculiar station before the world, which + is quite separate from the rank. To me these alone are + irresistible. Shall I say too that personal appearance + does count for much. I can fancy myself marrying an ugly + man, but I can fancy also that I could not do it without + something of disgust. + + +Miss Altifiorla when she wrote this had understood well that vanity +and love of flattery were conspicuous traits in the character of her +admirer. + + + Having owned so much, what is there more to say than that + I am the happiest woman between the seas? + + +The reader must be here told that this letter had been copied out a +second time because in the first copy she had allowed the word girl +to pass in the above sentence. Something told her that she had better +write woman instead, and she had written it. + + + What more is there for me to add to the above except + to tell you that I love you with all my heart. Months + ago,--it seems to be years now,--when Cecilia Holt had + caught your fancy, I did regard her as the most fortunate + girl. But I did not regard you as the happiest of men, + because I felt sure that there was a something between you + which would not suit. There is an asperity, rather than + strictness, about her which I knew your spirit would not + brook. She would have borne the battlings which would + have arisen with an equal temper. She can indeed bear all + things with equanimity--as she does her present position. + But you, though you would have battled and have conquered, + would still have suffered. I do not think that the wife + you now desire is one with whom you will have to wage + war. Shall I say that if you marry her whom you have now + asked to join her lot with yours, there will be no such + fighting? I think that I shall know how to hold my own + against the world as your wife. But with you I shall only + attempt to hold my own by making myself one with you in + all your desires and aspirations. + + I am yours with all my heart, with all my body and soul. + + FRANCESCA. + + I say nothing now about the immediate future, but I hope + it will please your highness to visit your most worthy + clerical relations in this cathedral city before long. I + shall say nothing to any of your clerical relations as + to my prospects in life until I shall have received your + sanction for doing so. But the sooner I do receive it the + better for my peace of mind. + + +Sir Francis was upon the whole delighted with the letter, and the +more delighted as he now read it for the third time. "There is such +an air of truth in every word of it." It was thus that he spoke to +himself about the letter as he sucked in the flattery. It was thus +that Miss Altifiorla had intended that he should receive it. She knew +herself too well to suspect that her flattery should fail. Not a word +of it failed. In nothing was he more gratified than in her allusions +to his matrimonial efforts with Miss Holt. She had assured him that +he would have finally conquered that strong-minded young woman. +But she had at the same time told him of the extreme tenderness of +his heart. He absolutely believed her when she whispered to him +her secret,--that she had envied Cecilia her lot when Cecilia was +supposed to be the happy bride. He quite understood those allusions +to his own pleasures and her assurance that she would never interfere +with him. There was just a doubt whether a thing so easily got +could be worth the keeping. But then he remembered his cousin and +determined to be a man of his word. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE SECRET ESCAPES. + + +"All right. See you soon. Ever yours, F. G." Such was the entire +response which Miss Altifiorla received from her now declared lover. +Sir Francis had told himself that he hated the bother of writing +love-letters. But in truth there was with him also an idea that it +might be as well that he should not commit himself to declarations +that were in their nature very strong. It was not that he absolutely +thought of any possible future event in which his letters might be +used against him, but there was present to him a feeling that the +least said might be the soonest mended. + +Miss Altifiorla when she received the above scrawl was quite +satisfied with it. She, too, was cautious in her nature, but not +quite so clever as her lover. She did, indeed, feel that she had now +caught her fish. She would not let him escape by any such folly as +that which Cecilia Holt had committed. The Baronet should be allowed +his full swing till she was entitled to call herself Lady Geraldine. +Then, perhaps, there might be a tussle between them as to which +should have his own way,--or hers. The great thing at present was to +obtain the position, and she did feel that she had played her cards +uncommonly well as far as the game had gone at present. + +But there came upon her an irresistible temptation to make her +triumph known among her friends at Exeter. All her girl friends had +got themselves married. There was Mrs. Green, and Mrs. Thorne, and +Mrs. Western. Poor Cecilia had not gained much, but still she was +Mrs. Western. Miss Altifiorla did in truth regard herself as Miss +Altifiorla with but small satisfaction. She had her theories about +women's rights, and the decided advantages of remaining single, +and the sufficiency of a lady to stand alone in the world. There +was probably some vague glimmering of truth in her ideas; some +half-formed belief in her own doctrine. But still it had ever been +an uncomfortable creed, and one which she was ready to desert at the +slightest provocation. Her friends had all deserted it, and had left +her as we say high and dry on the barren bank, while they had been +carried away by the fertilising stream. She, too, would now swim down +the river of matrimony with a beautiful name, and a handle to it, as +the owner of a fine family property. Women's rights was an excellent +doctrine to preach, but for practice could not stand the strain of +such temptation. And though in boasting of her good fortune she must +no doubt confess that she had been wrong, still there would be much +more of glory than of shame in the confession. + +It was chance probably that made her tell her secret in the first +instance to Mrs. Thorne. Mrs. Thorne had been Maude Hippesley and was +niece to Sir Francis Geraldine. Miss Altifiorla had pledged herself +to Sir Francis not to make known her engagement at the Deanery. +But such pledges go for very little. Mrs. Thorne was not now an +inhabitant of Exeter, and was, so to say, the most bosom-friend left +to her,--after her disruption from Mrs. Western. Was it probable that +such a secret should be kept from a bosom-friend? Mrs. Thorne who had +a large circle of friends in the county would hardly have admitted +the claim, but she would be more likely to do so after receiving the +intimation. Of course it would be conveyed under the seal of a sacred +promise,--which no doubt would be broken as soon as she reached +the Deanery. On this occasion she called on Miss Altifiorla to ask +questions in reference to "poor Cecilia." With herself and the Dean +and Mrs. Dean there was real sorrow at Cecilia's troubles. And there +was also no mode of acquiring true information. "Do tell me something +about poor Cecilia," said Mrs. Thorne. + +"Poor Cecilia, indeed! She is there all alone and sees almost no one. +Of course you've heard that Lady Grant was here." + +"We thought it so nice of Lady Grant to come all the way from +Scotland to see her sister-in-law." + +"Lady Grant of course is anxious to get her brother to take back his +wife. They haven't a great deal of money among them, and when Mrs. +Holt dies Cecilia's fortune would be a nice addition." + +"I don't think Lady Grant can have thought of that," said Mrs. +Thorne. + +"Lady Grant would be quite prudent in thinking of it and like the +rest of the world. Her husband was only a regimental officer in India +who got knighted for doing something that came in his way. There +isn't any family property among them, and of course she is anxious." + +This solicitude as to "family property" on the part of Miss +Altifiorla did strike Mrs. Thorne as droll. But she went on with her +inquiries. "And what is Cecilia doing?" + +"Not very much," said Miss Altifiorla. "What is there for her to do? +Poor girl! She has played her cards so uncommonly badly, when she +took up with Mr. Western after having been dropped by Sir Francis." + +"After dropping Sir Francis!" + +Miss Altifiorla smiled. Was it likely that Cecilia Holt should have +dropped Sir Francis? "It doesn't much matter now. If it does her +wounded pride good to say so of course she can say it." + +"We always believed that it was so at the Deanery." + +"At any rate she made a mess of it. And now she has to bear the +fortune which her fates have sent her. I own that I am a little angry +with Cecilia, not for having dropped Sir Francis as you called it, +but for managing her matters so badly with Mr. Western. She seems to +me to have no idea of the sort of duties which fall to the lot of a +wife." + +"I should have thought you'd have liked her the better for that," +said Mrs. Thorne, with a smile. + +"Why so? I think you must have misunderstood my theory of life. When +a woman elects to marry, and does so from sheer love and regard for +the man, she should certainly make her duty to him the first motive +of all her actions." + +"What a grand lesson! It is a pity that my husband should not be here +to hear it." + +"I have no doubt he finds that you do so." + +"Or Sir Francis Geraldine. I suppose my uncle is still in search of a +wife, and if he knew where to find such excellent principles he would +be able to make his choice. What a joke it would be should he again +try his luck at Exeter?" + +"He has again tried his luck at Exeter," said Miss Altifiorla, in +a tone in which some slight shade of ridicule was mixed with the +grandiloquence which she wished to assume. + +"What on earth do you mean?" said Mrs. Thorne. + +"Simply what I seem to mean. I had not intended to have told you at +present, though I would sooner tell you than any person living. You +must promise me, however, that it shall go no further. Sir Francis +Geraldine has done me the honour to ask me to be his wife." Thus she +communicated her good news; and did so in a tone of voice that was +very low, and intended to be humble. + +"My uncle going to marry you? Good gracious!" + +"Is it more wonderful than that he should have thought of marrying +Cecilia Holt?" + +"Well, yes. Not that I know why it should be, except that Cecilia +came first, and that you and she were so intimate." + +"Was he doomed to remain alone in the world because of that?" asked +Miss Altifiorla. + +"Well, no; I don't exactly mean that. But it is droll." + +"I hope that the Dean and Mrs. Hippesley will be satisfied with his +choice. I do particularly hope that all his friends will feel that he +is doing well. But," she added, perceiving that her tidings had not +been received with any strong expression of family satisfaction--"but +I trust that, as Lady Geraldine, I may at any rate be the means of +keeping the family together." + +There was to Mrs. Thorne almost a joke in this, as she knew that her +father did not at all approve of Sir Francis, and was with difficulty +induced to have him at the Deanery. And she knew also that the Dean +did in his heart greatly dislike Miss Altifiorla, though for the sake +of what was generally called "peace within the cathedral precincts," +he had hitherto put up also with her. What might happen in the Dean's +mind, or what determination the Dean might take when the two should +be married, she could not say. But she felt that it might probably +be beyond the power of the then Lady Geraldine "to keep the family +together." "Well, I am surprised," said Mrs. Thorne. "And I am to +tell nobody." + +"I don't see any good in publishing the thing in High Street just at +present." Then Mrs. Thorne understood that she need not treat the +communication as a strict secret. "In fact, I don't see why it should +be kept specially in the dark. Francis has not enjoined anything like +secrecy." This was the first time that she had allowed herself the +use of the Baronet's name without the prefix. "When it is to be I +have not as yet even begun to think. Of course he is in a hurry. Men, +I believe, generally are. But in this case there may be some reasons +for delay. Arrangements as to the family property must be made, and +Castle Gerald must be prepared for our reception. I don't suppose we +can be married just off hand, like some happier folks." Mrs. Thorne +did not know whether to take this to herself, as she had been married +herself at last rather in a scramble, or whether it was intended to +apply to poor Cecilia, whose husband, though he was in comfortable +circumstances, cannot be said to have possessed family property. +"And now, dear;" continued Miss Altifiorla, "what am I to do for +bridesmaids? You three have all been married before me. There are +his two unmarried sisters of course." Mrs. Thorne was aware that her +uncle had absolutely quarrelled with his mother and sisters, and had +not spoken to them for years. "I suppose that it will come off in the +cathedral, and that your father will perform the ceremony. I don't +know, indeed, whether Francis might not wish to have the Bishop." +Mrs. Thorne was aware that the Bishop, who was a strict man, would +not touch Sir Francis Geraldine with a pair of tongs. "But all these +things will shake themselves down comfortably no doubt. In the +meantime I am in a twitter of ecstatic happiness. You, who have gone +through it all, will quite understand what I mean. It seems that as +a lover he is the most exigeant of gentlemen. He requires constant +writing to, and woe betide me if I do not obey his behests. However, +I do not complain, and must confess that I am at the present moment +the most happy of young women." + +Mrs. Thorne of course expressed her congratulations, and took her +departure without having committed herself to a word as to the other +inhabitants of the Deanery. But when she got to her father's house, +where she was for the present staying, she in truth startled them all +by the news. The Dean had just come into the drawing-room to have his +afternoon tea and a little gossip with his wife and his own sister, +Mrs. Forrester, from London. "Who do you think is going to be +married, and to whom?" said Mrs. Thorne. "I'll give you all three +guesses apiece, and bet you a pair of gloves all round that you don't +make it out." + +"Not Miss Altifiorla?" said her mother. + +"That's only one. A marriage requires two personages. I still hold +good by my bet." + +"Miss Altifiorla going to be married!" said the Dean. "Who is the +unfortunate victim?" + +"Papa, do not be ill-natured. Why should not Miss Altifiorla be +married as well as another?" + +"In the first place, my dear," said Mrs. Forrester, "because I +understand that the lady has always expressed herself as being in +favour of a single life." + +"I go beyond that," said the Dean, "and maintain that any single life +would be preferable to a marriage with Miss Altifiorla." + +"Considering that she is my friend, papa, I think that you are very +unkind." + +"But who is to be the gentleman?" asked her mother. + +"Ah! there's the question! Why don't you guess?" Then Mrs. Dean +did name three or four of the most unpromising unmarried elderly +gentlemen in Exeter, and the Dean, in that spirit of satire against +his own order which is common among clergymen, suggested an old +widowed Minor Canon, who was in the habit of chanting the Litany. +"You are none of you near the mark. You ought to come nearer home." + +"Nearer home?" said Mrs. Dean with a look of discomfort in her face. + +"Yes, mamma. A great deal nearer home." + +"It can't be your Uncle Septimus," said the Dean. Now Uncle Septimus +was the unmarried brother of old Mr. Thorne, and was regarded by +all the Thorne family as a perfect model of an unselfish, fine old +lovable gentleman. + +"Good gracious, no!" said Mrs. Thorne. "What a horrible idea! +Fancy Uncle Septimus doomed to pass his life in company with Miss +Altifiorla! The happy man in question is--Sir Francis Geraldine." + +"No!" said Mrs. Hippesley, jumping from her seat. + +"It is impossible," said the Dean, who, though he greatly disliked +his brother-in-law, still thought something of the family into which +he had married, and thoroughly despised Miss Altifiorla. "I do not +think that Sir Francis could be so silly as that." + +"It cannot be," said Mrs. Hippesley. + +"What has the young lady done to make it impossible?" asked Mrs. +Forrester. + +"Nothing on earth," said Mrs. Thorne. "She is my special friend and +is in my opinion a great deal more than worthy of my uncle Francis. +Only papa, who dislikes them both, would like to make it out that the +two of them are going to cut their own throats each by marrying the +other. I wish papa could have heard the way in which she said that +he would have to marry them,--unless the Bishop should like to come +forward and perform the ceremony." + +"I shall do nothing of the kind," said the Dean angrily. + +"If you had heard," continued his daughter, "all that she had to +say about the family name and the family property, and the family +grandeur generally, you would have thought her the most becoming +young woman in the country to be the future Lady Geraldine." + +"I wish you wouldn't talk of it, my dear," said Mrs. Hippesley. + +"We shall have to talk of it, and had better become used to it among +ourselves. I don't suppose that Miss Altifiorla has invented the +story out of her own head. She would not say that she was engaged to +marry my uncle if it were not true." + +"It's my belief," said the Dean, getting up and walking out of the +room in great anger, "that Sir Francis Geraldine will never marry +Miss Altifiorla." + +"I don't think my brother will ever marry Miss Altifiorla," said Mrs. +Dean. "He is very silly and very vicious, but I don't think he'll +ever do anything so bad as that." + +"Poor Miss Altifiorla!" said Mrs. Thorne afterwards to her Aunt +Forrester. + +That same evening Miss Altifiorla, feeling that she had broken the +ice, and, oppressed by the weight of the secret which was a secret +still in every house in Exeter except the Deanery, wrote to her other +friend Mrs. Green, and begged her to come down. She had tidings to +tell of the greatest importance. So Mrs. Green put on her bonnet and +came down. "My dear," said Miss Altifiorla, "I have something to tell +you. I am going to be--" + +"Not married!" said Mrs. Green. + +"Yes, I am. How very odd that you should guess. But yet when I come +to think of it I don't know that it is odd. Because after all there +does come a time in,--a lady's life when it is probable that she +will marry." Miss Altifiorla hesitated, having in the first instance +desired to use the word girl. + +"That's as may be," said Mrs. Green. "Your principles used to be on +the other side." + +"Of course all that changes when the opportunity comes. It wasn't so +much that I disliked the idea of marriage, for myself, as that I was +proud of the freedom which I enjoyed. However that is all over. I am +free no longer." + +"And who is it to be?" + +"Ah, who is it to be? Can you make a guess?" + +"Not in the least. I don't know of anybody who has been spooning +you." + +"Oh, what a term to use! No one can say that anyone ever--spooned me. +It is a horrible word. And I cannot bear to hear it fall from my own +lips." + +"It is what young men do do," said Mrs. Green. + +"That I think depends on the rank in life which the young men +occupy;--and also the young women. I can understand that a Bank clerk +should do it to an attorney's daughter." + +"Well; who is it you are going to marry without spooning, which in +my vocabulary is simply another word for two young people being fond +of each other?" Miss Altifiorla remained silent for a while, feeling +that she owed it to herself to awe her present companion by her +manner before she should crush her altogether by the weight of +the name she would have to pronounce. Mrs. Green had received her +communication flippantly, and had probably felt that her friend +intended to demean herself by some mere common marriage. "Who is to +be the happy swain?" asked Mrs. Green. + +"Swain!" said Miss Altifiorla, unable to repress her feelings. + +"Well; lover, young man, suitor, husband as is to be. Some word +common on such occasion will I suppose fit him?" + +Miss Altifiorla felt that no word common on such occasions would fit +him. But yet it was necessary that she should name him, having gone +so far. And, having again been silent for a minute, so as to bethink +herself in what most dignified language this might be done, she +proceeded. "I am to be allied,"--again there was a little pause,--"to +Sir Francis Geraldine!" + +"Him Cecilia Holt rejected!" + +"Him who I think was fortunate enough to escape Cecilia Holt." + +"Goodness gracious! It seems but the other day." + +"Cecilia Holt has since recovered from her wounds and married another +husband, and is now suffering from fresh wounds. Is it odd that the +gentleman should have found some one else to love when the lady has +had time not only to love but to marry, and to be separated from +another man?" + +"Sir Francis Geraldine!" ejaculated Mrs. Green. "Well; I'm sure +I wish you all the joy in the world. When is it to be?" But Mrs. +Green had so offended Miss Altifiorla by her manner of accepting the +news that she could not bring herself to make any further gracious +answer. Mrs. Green therefore took her leave, and the fact of Miss +Altifiorla's engagement was soon known all over Exeter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +LADY GRANT AT DRESDEN. + + +"You have first to believe the story as I tell it you, and get out of +your head altogether the story as you have conceived it." This was +said by Lady Grant to her brother when she had travelled all the way +to Dresden with the purpose of inducing him to take his wife back. +She had come there solely with that object, and it must be said of +her that she had well done her duty as a sister. But she found it by +no means easy to induce her brother to look at the matter with her +eyes. In fact, it was evident to her that he did not believe the +story as she had told it. She must go on and din it into his ears +till by perseverance she should change his belief. He still thought +that credit should be given to that letter from Sir Francis, although +he was aware that to Sir Francis himself as a man he would have given +no credit whatsoever. It had suited his suspicions to believe that +there had been something in common between Sir Francis and his wife +up to the moment in which the terrible fact of her engagement had +been made known to him; and from that belief he could not free his +mind. He had already been persuaded to say that she should come back +to him; but she should come as a sinner confessing her sin. He would +take her back, but as one whom he had been justified in expelling, +and to whom he should be held as extending great mercy. + +But Lady Grant would not accept of his mercy, nor would she encourage +her coming back with such a purpose. It would not be good in the +first place for him that he should think that his wife had been an +offender. His future happiness must depend on his fixed belief in +her purity and truth. And, as for her,--Lady Grant was sure that no +entreaties would induce her to own that she had been in the wrong. +She desired to have no pardon asked, but would certainly ask for no +pardon on her own behalf. + +"Why was it that he came, then, to my house?" asked Mr. Western. + +"Am I, or rather is she, to account for the conduct of such a man as +that? Are you to make her responsible for his behaviour?" + +"She was engaged to him." + +"Undoubtedly. It should have been told to you,--though I can +understand the reasons which kept her silent from day to day. The +time will come when you will understand it also, and know, as I do, +how gracious and how feminine has been her silence." Then there came +across her brother's face a look of doubt as indicating his feeling +that nothing could have justified her silence. "Yes, George; the time +will come that you will understand her altogether although you are +far from doing so now." + +"I believe you think her to be perfect," said he. + +"Hardly perfect, because she is a human being. But although I know +her virtues I have not known her faults. It may be that she is too +proud,--a little unwilling, perhaps, to bend. Most women will bend +whether they be in fault or not. But would you wish your wife to do +so?" + +"I, at any rate, have not asked her." + +"You, at any rate, have not given her the opportunity. My accusation +against you is, that you sent her away from you on an accusation made +solely by that man, and without waiting to hear from herself whether +she would plead guilty to it." + +"I deny it." + +"Yes; I hear your denial. But you will have to acknowledge it, at any +rate to yourself, before you can ever hope to be a happy man." + +"When he wrote to me, I believed the whole story to be a lie from +first to last." + +"And when you found that it was not all a lie, then it became to you +a gospel throughout. You could not understand that the very faults +which had induced her to break her engagement were of a nature to +make him tell his story untruly." + +"When she acknowledged herself to have been engaged to him it nearly +broke my heart." + +"Just so. And, with your heart broken, you would not sift the truth. +She had committed no offence against you in engaging herself." + +"She should have told me as soon as we knew each other." + +"She should have told you before she accepted your offer. But she had +been deterred from doing so by your own revelation to her. You cannot +believe that she intended you always to be in the dark. You cannot +imagine that she had expected that you should never hear of her +adventure with Sir Francis Geraldine." + +"I do not know." + +"I had heard it, and she knew that I had heard it." + +"Why did you not tell me, then?" + +"Do you suppose that I wished to interfere between you and your +wife? Of course I told her that you ought to know. Of course I +told her that you ought to have known it already. But she excused +herself,--with great sorrow. Things had presented themselves in such +a way that the desired opportunity of telling you had never come." +He shook his head. "I tell you that it was so, and you are bound +to believe it of one of whom in all other respects you had thought +well;--of one who loved you with the fondest devotion. Instead +of that there came this man with his insidious falsehoods, with +his implied lies; this man, of whom you have always thought so +badly;--and him you believed instead! I tell you that you can justify +yourself before no human being. You were not entitled to repudiate +your wife for such offence as she had committed, you are not entitled +even had there been no mutual affection to bind you together. How +much less so in your present condition,--and in hers. People will +only excuse you by saying that you were mad. And now in order to +put yourself right, you expect that she shall come forward, and own +herself to have been the cause of this misfortune. I tell you that +she will not do it. I would not even ask her to do it;--not for her +sake, nor for your own." + +"I am then to go," said he, "and grovel in the dust before her feet." + +"There need be no grovelling. There need be no confessions." + +"How then?" + +"Go to Exeter, and simply take her. Disregard what all the world may +say, for the sake of her happiness and for your own. She will make +no stipulation. She will simply throw herself into your arms with +unaffected love. Do not let her have to undergo the suffering of +bringing forth your child without the comfort of knowing that you are +near to her." Then she left him to think in solitude over the words +she had spoken to him. + +He did think of them. But he found it to be impossible to put +absolute faith in them. It was not that he thought that his sister +was deceiving him, that he distrusted her who had taken this long +journey at great personal trouble altogether on his behalf; but that +he could not bring himself to believe that he himself had been so +cruel as to reject his young wife without adequate cause. It had +gradually come across his mind that he had been most cruel, most +unjust,--if he had done so; and to this judgment, passed by himself +on himself, he would not submit. In concealing her engagement she had +been very wrong, but it must be that she had concealed more than her +engagement. And to have been engaged to such a man added much to the +fault in his estimation. He would not acknowledge that she had been +deceived as to the man's character and had set herself right before +it was too late. Why had the man come to his house and asked for +him,--after what had passed between them,--if not in compliance with +some understanding between him and her? But yet he would take her +back if she would confess her fault and beg his pardon,--for then he +would be saved the disgrace of having to acknowledge that he had been +in fault from the first. + +His sister left him alone without saying a word on the subject for +twenty-four hours, and then again attacked him. "George," she said, +"I must go back to-morrow. I have left my children all alone and +cannot stay longer away from them." + +"Must you go to-morrow?" he asked. + +"Indeed, yes. Had not the matter been one of almost more than life +and death I should not have come. Am I to return and feel that my +journey has been for nothing?" + +"What would you have me do?" + +"Return with me, and go at once to Exeter." + +He almost tore his hair in his agony as he walked about the room +before he replied to her. But she remained silent, watching him. "You +must leave me here till I think about it." + +"Then I might as well not have come at all," she said. + +He moved about the room in an agony of spirit. He knew it to be +essential to his future happiness in life that he should be the +master in his own house. And he felt that he could not be so unless +he should be known to have been right in this terrible misfortune +with which their married life had been commenced. There was no +obliterating it, no forgetting it, no ignoring it. He had in his +passion sent her away from him, and, passionately, she had withdrawn. +Let them not say a word about it, there would still have been this +terrible event in both their memories. And for himself he knew that +unless it could be settled from the first that he had acted with +justice, his life would be intolerable to him. He was a man, and it +behoved him to have been just. She was a woman, and the feeling of +having had to be forgiven would not be so severe with her. She, when +taken a second time into grace and pardoned, might still rejoice and +be happy. But for himself, he reminded himself over and over again +that he was a man, and assured himself that he could never lift up +his head were he by his silence to admit that he had been in the +wrong. + +But still his mind was changed,--was altogether changed by the coming +of his sister. Till she had come all had been a blank with him, in +which no light had been possible. He could see no life before him +but one in which he should be constantly condemned by his fellow-men +because of his cruelty to his young wife. Men would not stop to ask +whether he had been right or wrong, but would declare him at any rate +to have been stern and cruel. And then he had been torn to the heart +by his memory of those passages of love which had been so sweet to +him. He had married her to be the joy of his life, and she had become +so to his entire satisfaction when in his passion he had sent her +away. He already knew that he had made a great mistake. Angry as he +had been, he should not have thus sought to avenge himself. He should +have known himself better than to think that because she had been in +fault he could therefore live without her. He had owned to himself +when his sister had come to him that he must use her services in +getting his wife once again. Was she not the one human being that +suited him at all points? But still,--but still his honour must be +saved. If she in truth desired to come back to him, she would not +hesitate to own that she had been in fault. + +"What am I to say to her? What message will you send to her? You will +hardly let me go back without some word." This was said to him by his +sister as he walked about the room in his misery. What message could +he send? He desired to return himself, and was willing to do so at +a moment's notice if only he could be assured that if he did so she +would as a wife do her duty by owning that she had been in the wrong. +How should he live with a wife who would always be asserting to +herself, and able to assert to him, that in this extremity of their +trouble he had been the cause of it;--not that she would so assert +it aloud, but that the power of doing so would be always present to +her and to him? And yet he was resolved to return, and if he allowed +his sister to go back without him never would there come so fair an +opportunity again. "I have done my duty by you," said his sister. + +"Yes, yes. I need hardly tell you that I am grateful to you." + +"And now do your duty by her." + +"If she will write to me one line to beg me to come I will do so." + +"You have absolutely driven her away from you, and left her abruptly, +so that she should have no opportunity of imploring you to spare her. +And now you expect that she should do so?" + +"Yes;--if she were wrong. By your own showing she was the first to +sin against me." + +"You do not know the nature of a woman, and especially you do not +know hers. I have nothing further to say. I shall leave this by the +early train to-morrow morning, and you can go with me or let me go +alone as you please. I have said what I came to say, and if I have +said it without effect it will only show me how hard a man's heart +may become by living in the world." Then she left him alone and went +her way. + +He took his hat and escaped from the Hotel and walked along the +Elbe all alone. He went far down the river, and did not return for +many hours. At first his thoughts were full of anger against his +sister, though he acknowledged that she had taken great trouble in +coming there on a mission intended to be beneficent to them both. +With the view solely of doing her duty to her brother and to her +sister-in-law, she had taken infinite trouble; yet he was very angry +with her. Being a woman she had most unjustly taken the part of +another woman against him. Cecilia would have suffered but little in +having been forced to acknowledge her great sin. But he would suffer +greatly,--he who had sinned not at all,--by the tacit confession +which he would be thus compelled to make. It was true that it was +necessary that he should return. The happiness of them all, including +that unborn child, required it. His sister knowing this demanded that +he should sacrifice himself in order that his wife might be indulged +in her pride. And yet he knew that he must do it. Though he might go +to her in silence, and in silence renew his married life, he would by +so doing confess that he had been wrong. To such confession he should +not be driven. In the very gall of bitterness, and with the sense of +injustice strong upon him, he did resolve that he would return to +England with his sister. But having so resolved, with his wrath hot +against Lady Grant, his mind was gradually turned to Cecilia and her +condition. How sweet would it be to have her once again sitting at +his table, once again leaning on his arm, once again looking up into +his face with almost comical doubt, seeking to find in his eyes what +answer he would best like her to make when referring to her for some +decision. "It is your opinion that I want," he would say. "Ah! but +if I only knew yours I should be so much better able to have one of +my own." Then there would come a look over her face which almost +maddened him when he thought that he should never see it again. It +was the idea that she who could so look at him should have looked +with the same smile into the face of that other man which had driven +him to fury;--that she should have so looked in those very days in +which she had gazed into his own. + +Could it be that though she had been engaged to the man she had never +taken delight in so gazing at him? That girl whom he had thought to +make his wife, and who had so openly jilted him, had never understood +him as Cecilia had done,--had never looked at him as Cecilia +had looked. But he, after he had been so treated,--happily so +treated,--had certainly never desired ever to see the girl. But this +wife of his, who was possessed of all the charms which a woman could +own, of whom he acknowledged to himself day after day that she was, +as regarded his taste, peerless and unequalled, she after breaking +from that man, that man unworthy to be called a gentleman, still +continued to hold intercourse with him! Was it not clear that she had +still remained on terms of intimacy with him? + +His walk along the Elbe was very bitter, but yet he determined to +return to England with his sister. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +MR. WESTERN YIELDS. + + +The fact that Lady Grant had gone to Dresden was not long in reaching +the ears of Mrs. Western. Dick Ross had heard at the club at Perth +that she had gone, and had told Sir Francis. Sir Francis passed on +the news to Miss Altifiorla, and from her it had reached the deserted +wife. Miss Altifiorla had not told it direct, because at that time +she and Cecilia were not supposed to be on friendly terms. But the +tidings had got about and Mrs. Western had heard them. + +"She's a good woman," said Cecilia to her mother. "I knew her to be +that the first moment that she came to me. She is rough as he is, +and stern, and has a will of her own. But her heart is tender and +true;--as is his also at the core." + +"I don't know about that," said Mrs. Holt, with the angry tone which +she allowed herself to use only when speaking of Mr. Western. + +"Yes; he is, mamma. In your affection for me you will not allow +yourself to be just to him. In truth you hardly know him." + +"I know that he has destroyed your happiness for ever, and made me +very wretched." + +"No, mamma; not for ever. It may be that he will come for me, and +that then we shall be as happy as the day is long." As she said +this a vision came before her eyes of the birth of her child and of +her surroundings at the time;--the anxious solicitude of a loving +husband, the care of attendants who would be happy because she was +happy, the congratulations of friends, and the smiles of the world. +But above all she pictured to herself her husband standing by her +bedside with the child in his arms. The dream had been dreamed +before, and was re-dreamed during every hour of the day. "Lady Grant +is strong," she continued, "and can plead for me better than I could +plead myself." + +"Plead for you! Why should there be anyone wanted to plead for you? +Will Lady Grant plead with you for her brother?" + +"It is not necessary. My own heart pleads for him. It is because he +has been in the wrong that an intercessor is necessary for me. It is +they who commit the injury that have a difficulty in forgiving. If he +came to me do you not know that I should throw myself into his arms +and be the happiest woman in the world without a word spoken?" The +conversation was not then carried further, but Mrs. Holt continued +to shake her head as she sate at her knitting. In her estimation no +husband could have behaved worse than had her son-in-law. And she +was of opinion that he should be punished for his misconduct before +things could be made smooth again. + +Some days afterwards Miss Altifiorla called at the house, and sent in +a note while she stood waiting in the hall. In the note she merely +asked whether her "dear Cecilia" would be willing to receive her +after what had passed. She had news to tell of much importance, and +she hoped that her "dear Cecilia" would receive her. There had been +no absolute quarrel, no quarrel known to the servants, and Cecilia +did receive her. "Oh, my dear," she said, bustling into the room with +an air of affected importance, "you will be surprised,--I think that +you must be surprised at what I have to tell you." + +"I will be surprised if you wish it," said Cecilia. + +"Let me first begin by assuring you, that you must not make light of +my news. It is of the greatest importance, not only to me, but of +some importance also to you." + +"It shall be of importance." + +"Because you begin with that little sneer which has become so common +with you. You must be aware of it. Amidst the troubles of your own +life, which we all admit to be very grievous, there has come upon +you a way of thinking that no one else's affairs can be of any +importance." + +"I am not aware of it." + +"It is so a little. And pray believe me that I am not in the least +angry about it. I knew that it would be so when I came to you this +morning; and yet I could not help coming. Indeed as the thing has now +been made known to the Dean's family I could not bear that you should +be left any longer in ignorance." + +"What is the thing?" + +"There it is again;--that sneer. I cannot tell you unless you will +interest yourself. Does nothing interest you now beyond your own +misfortunes?" + +"Alas, no. I fear not." + +"But this shall interest you. You must be awaked to the affairs of +the world--especially such an affair as this. You must be shaken up. +This I suppose will shake you up. If not, you must be past all hope." + +"What on earth is it?" + +"Sir Francis Geraldine--! You have heard at any rate of Sir Francis +Geraldine." + +"Well, yes; I have not as yet forgotten the name." + +"I should think not. Sir Francis Geraldine has--" And then she paused +again. + +"Cut his little finger," said Cecilia. Had she dreamed of what was +to come she would not have turned Sir Francis into ridicule. But she +had been aware of Miss Altifiorla's friendship with Sir Francis,--or +rather what she had regarded as an affectation of friendship, and did +not for a moment anticipate such a communication as was to be made to +her. + +"Cecilia Holt--" + +"That at any rate is not my name." + +"I dare say you wish it were." + +"I would not change my real name for that of any woman under the +sun." + +"Perhaps not; but there are other women in a position of less +grandeur. I am going to change mine." + +"No!" + +"I thought you would be surprised because it would look as though I +were about to abandon my great doctrine. It is not so. My opinions on +that great subject are not in the least changed. But of course there +must be some women whom the exigencies of the world will require to +marry." + +"A good many, first and last." + +"About the good many I do not at this moment concern myself. My duty +is clearly before me and I mean to perform it. I have been asked to +ally myself--;" then there was a pause, and the speaker discovered +when it was too late that she was verging on the ridiculous in +declaring her purpose of forming an alliance;--"that is to say, I am +going to marry Sir Francis Geraldine." + +"Sir Francis Geraldine!" + +"Do you see any just cause or impediment?" + +"None in the least. And yet how am I to answer such a question? I saw +cause or impediment why I should not marry him." + +"You both saw it, I suppose?" said Miss Altifiorla, with an air of +grandeur. "You both supposed that you were not made for each other, +and wisely determined to give up the idea. You did not remain single, +and I suppose we need not either." + +"Certainly not for my sake." + +"Our intimacy since that time has been increased by circumstances, +and we have now discovered that we can both of us best suit our own +interests by an--" + +"An alliance," suggested Mrs. Western. + +"If you please,--though I am quite aware that you use the term as a +sneer." As to this Mrs. Western was too honest to deny the truth, and +remained silent. + +"I thought it proper," continued Miss Altifiorla, "as we had been so +long friends, to inform you that it will be so. You had your chance, +and as you let it slip I trust that you will not envy me mine." + +"Not in the least." + +"At any rate you do not congratulate me." + +"I have been very remiss. I acknowledge it. But upon my word the news +has so startled me that I have been unable to remember the common +courtesies of the world. I thought when I heard of your travelling up +to London together that you were becoming very intimate." + +"Oh, it had been ever so much before that,--the intimacy at least. Of +course I did not know him before he came to this house. But a great +many things have happened since that; have there not? Well, good-bye, +dear. I have no doubt we shall continue as friends, especially as we +shall be living almost in the neighbourhood. Castle Gerald is to be +at once fitted up for me, and I hope you will forget all our little +tiffs, and often come and stay with me." So saying, Miss Altifiorla, +having told her grand news, made her adieus and went away. + +"A great many things have happened since that," said Cecilia, +repeating to herself her friend's words. It seemed to her to be so +many that a lifetime had been wasted since Sir Francis had first +come to that house. She had won the love of the best man she had +ever known, and married him, and had then lost his love! And now +she had been left as a widowed wife, with all the coming troubles +of maternity on her head. She had understood well the ill-natured +sarcasm of Miss Altifiorla. "We shall be living almost in the same +neighbourhood!" Yes; if her separation from her husband was to be +continued, then undoubtedly she would live at Exeter, and, as far as +the limits of the county were concerned, she would be the neighbour +of the future Lady Geraldine. That she should ever willingly be +found under the same roof with Sir Francis was, as she knew well, as +impossible to Miss Altifiorla as to herself. The invitation contained +the sneer, and was intended to contain it. But it created no anger. +She, too, had sneered at Miss Altifiorla quite as bitterly. They had +each learned to despise the other, and not to sneer was impossible. +Miss Altifiorla had come to tell of her triumph, and to sneer in +return. But it mattered nothing. What did matter was whether that +threat should come true. Should she always be left living at Exeter +with her mother? Then she dreamed her dream again, that he had come +back to her, and was sitting by her bedside with his hand in hers +and whispering sweet words to her, while a baby was lying in her +arms--his child. As she thought of the bliss of the fancied moment, +the still possible bliss, her anger seemed to fade away. What would +she not do to bring him back, what would she not say? She had done +amiss in keeping that secret so long, and though the punishment had +been severe, it was not altogether undeserved. It had come to him as +a terrible blow, and he had been unable to suppress his agony. He +should not have treated her so; no, he should not have sent her away. +But she could make excuses now, which but a few weeks since seemed to +her to be impossible. And she understood, she told herself that she +understood, the difference between herself as a woman and him as a +man. He had a right to command, a right to be obeyed, a right to be +master. He had a right to know all the secrets of her heart, and to +be offended when one so important had been kept from him. He had +lifted his hand in great wrath, and the blow he had struck had been +awful. But she would bear it without a word of complaint if only he +would come back to her. As she thought of it, she declared to herself +that she must die if he did not come back. To live as she was living +now would be impossible to her. But if he would come back, how +absolutely would she disregard all that the world might say as to +their short quarrel. It would indeed be known to all the world, but +what could the world do to her if she once again had her husband by +her side? When the blow first fell on her she had thought much of the +ignominy which had befallen her, and which must ever rest with her. +Even though she should be taken back again, people would know that +she had been discarded. But now she told herself that for that she +cared not at all. Then she again dreamed her dream. Her child was +born, and her husband was standing by her with that sweet manly smile +upon his face. She put out her hand as though he would touch it, and +was conscious of an involuntary movement as though she were bending +her face towards him for a kiss. + +Surely he would come to her! His sister had gone to him, and would +have told him the absolute truth. She had never sinned against him, +even by intentional silence. There had been no thought of hers since +she had been his wife which he had not been welcome to share. It +had in truth been for his sake rather than for her own that she had +been silent. She was aware that from cowardice her silence had been +prolonged. But surely now at last he would forgive her that offence. +Then she thought of the words she would use as she owned her fault. +He was a man, and as a man had a right to expect that she would +confess it. If he would come to her, and stand once again with his +arm round her waist, she would confess it. + +"My dear, here is a letter. The postman has just brought it." She +took the letter from her mother's hand and hardly knew whether to be +pleased or disappointed when she found that the address was in the +handwriting of Lady Grant. Lady Grant would of course write whether +with good news or with bad. The address told her nothing, but yet she +could not tear the envelope. "Well, my dear; what is it?" said her +mother. "Why don't you open it?" + +She turned a soft supplicating painful look up to her mother's face +as she begged for grace. "I will go up-stairs, mamma, and will tell +you by-and-by." Then she left the room with the letter unopened in +her hand. It was with difficulty that she could examine its contents, +so apprehensive was she and yet so hopeful, so confident at one +moment of her coming happiness, and yet so fearful at another that +she should be again enveloped in the darkness of her misery. But she +did at last persuade herself to read the words which Lady Grant had +written. They were very short, and ran as follows: "My dear Cecilia, +my brother returns with me, and will at once go down to Exeter." +The shock of her joy was so great that she could hardly see what +followed. "He will hope to reach that place on the fifteenth by the +train which leaves London at nine in the morning." + +That was all, but that was enough. She was sure that he would not +come with the purpose of telling her that he must again leave her. +And she was sure also that if he would once put himself within the +sphere of her personal influence it should be so used that he would +never leave her again. + +"Of course he is coming. I knew he would come. Why should he not +come?" This she exclaimed to her mother, and then went on to speak of +him with a wild rhapsody of joy, as though there had hardly been any +breach in her happiness. And she continued to sing the praises of her +husband till Mrs. Holt hardly knew how to bear her enthusiasm in a +fitting mood. For she, who was not in love, still thought that this +man's conduct had been scandalous, wicked, and cruel; and, if to be +forgiven, only to be forgiven because of the general wickedness and +cruelty of man. + +It had not been without great difficulty that Lady Grant induced her +brother to assent to her writing the letter which has been given +above. When he had agreed to return with her to England he had no +doubt assented to her assertion that he was bound to take his wife +back again, even without any confession. And this had been so much to +gain, had been so felt to be the one only material point necessary, +that he was not pressed as to his manner of doing it. But before they +reached London it was essential that some arrangement should be made +for bringing them together. "Could not I go down to Durton," he had +said, "and could not she come to me there?" No doubt he might have +gone to Durton, and no doubt she would have gone to him if asked. She +would have flown to him at Dresden, or to Jerusalem, at a word spoken +by him. Absence had made him so precious to her, that she would have +obeyed the slightest behest with joy as long as the order given were +to bring them once more together. But of this Lady Grant was not +aware, and, had she been so, the sense of what was becoming would +have restrained her. + +"I think, George, that you had better go to Exeter," she said. + +"Should we not be more comfortable at Durton?" + +"I think that when at Durton you will be more happy if you shall +yourself have fetched her from her mother's home. I think you owe it +to your wife to go to her, and make the journey with her. What is +your objection?" + +"I do not wish to be seen in Exeter," he replied. + +"Nor did she, you may be sure, when she returned there alone. But +what does it matter? If you can be happy in once more possessing +her, it cannot signify who shall see you. There can be nothing to be +ashamed of in going for your wife; nor can any evil happen to you. As +this thing is to be done, let it be done in a noble spirit." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +SIR FRANCIS' ESCAPE. + + +When she had told the Dean's family, and Mrs. Green, and Cecilia, +Miss Altifiorla began to feel that there was no longer a secret worth +the keeping. And indeed it became necessary to her happiness to +divulge this great step in life which she was about to take. She had +written very freely, and very frequently to Sir Francis, and Sir +Francis, to tell the truth, had not responded in the same spirit. She +had received but two answers to six letters, and each answer had been +conveyed in about three lines. There had been no expressions from +him of confiding love, nor any pressing demands for an immediate +marriage. They had all been commenced without even naming her, and +had been finished by the simple signature of his initials. But to +Miss Altifiorla they had been satisfactory. She knew how silly she +would be to expect from such an one as her intended husband long +epistles such as a school girl would require, and, in order to keep +him true to her, had determined to let him know how little exacting +she was inclined to be. She would willingly do all the preliminary +writing if only she could secure her position as Lady Geraldine. She +wrote such letters, letters so full of mingled wit and love and fun, +that she was sure that he must take delight in reading them. "Easy +reading requires hard writing," she said to herself as she copied +for the third time one of her epistles, and copied it studiously +in such handwriting that it should look to have been the very work +of negligence. In all this she had been successful as she thought, +and told herself over and over again how easy it was for a clever +woman to make captive a man of mark, provided that she set herself +assiduously to the task. + +She soon descended from her friends to the shopkeepers, and found +that her news was received very graciously by the mercantile +interests of the city. The milliners, the haberdashers, the furriers +and the bootmakers of Exeter received her communication and her +orders with pleased alacrity. With each of them she held a little +secret conference, telling each with a smiling whisper what fate +was about to do for her. To even the upholsterers, the bankers, the +hotel-keepers and the owners of post-horses she was communicative, +making every one the gratified recipient of her tidings. Thus in +a short time all Exeter knew that Sir Francis Geraldine was about +to lead to the hymeneal altar Miss Altifiorla, and it must be +acknowledged that all Exeter expressed various opinions on the +subject. They who understood that Miss Altifiorla was to pay for the +supplies ordered out of her own pocket declared for the most part how +happy a man was Sir Francis. But those who could only look to Sir +Francis for possible future custom were surprised that the Baronet +should have allowed himself to be so easily caught. And then the +aristocracy expressed its opinion which it must be acknowledged was +for the most part hostile to Miss Altifiorla. It was well known +through the city that the Dean had declared that he would never again +see his brother-in-law at the deanery. And it was whispered that the +Reverend Dr. Pigrum, one of the canons, had stated "that no one in +the least knew where Miss Altifiorla had come from." This hit Miss +Altifiorla very hard,--so much so, that she felt herself obliged to +write an indignant letter to Dr. Pigrum, giving at length her entire +pedigree. To this Dr. Pigrum made a reply as follows: "Dr. Pigrum's +compliments to Miss Altifiorla, and is happy to learn the name of +her great grandmother." Dr. Pigrum was supposed to be a wag, and the +letter soon became the joint property of all the ladies in the Close. + +This interfered much with Miss Altifiorla's happiness. She even went +across to Cecilia, complaining of the great injustice done to her by +the Cathedral clergymen generally. "Men from whom one should expect +charity instead of scandal, but that their provincial ignorance is so +narrow!" Then she went on to remind Cecilia how much older was the +Roman branch of her family than even the blood of the Geraldines. +"You oughtn't to have talked about it," said Cecilia, who in her +present state of joy did not much mind Miss Altifiorla and her +husband. "Do you suppose that I intend to be married under a bushel?" +said Miss Altifiorla grandly. But this little episode only tended to +renew the feeling of enmity between the ladies. + +But there appeared a paragraph in the "Western Telegraph" which +drove Miss Altifiorla nearly mad: "It is understood that one of the +aristocracy in this county is soon about to be married to a lady who +has long lived among us in Exeter. Sir Francis Geraldine is the happy +man, and Miss Altifiorla is the lady about to become Lady Geraldine. +Miss Altifiorla is descended from an Italian family of considerable +note in its own country. Her great grandmother was a Fiasco, and her +great great grandmother a Disgrazia. We are delighted to find that +Sir Francis is to ally himself to a lady of such high birth." Now +Miss Altifiorla was well aware that there was an old feud between Sir +Francis and the "Western Telegraph," and she observed also that the +paper made allusion to the very same relatives whom she had named in +her unfortunate letter to Dr. Pigrum. "The vulgarity of the people +of this town is quite unbearable," she exclaimed to Mrs. Green. But +when she was left alone she at once wrote a funnier letter than ever +to Sir Francis. It might be that Sir Francis should not see the +paragraph. At any rate she did not mention it. + +But unfortunately Sir Francis did see the paragraph; and, +unfortunately also, he had not appreciated the wit of Miss +Altifiorla's letters. "Oh, laws!" he had been heard to ejaculate on +receipt of a former letter. + +"It's the kind of thing a man has to put up with when he gets +married," said Captain McCollop, a gentleman who had already in some +sort succeeded Dick Ross. + +"I don't suppose you think a man ever ought to be married." + +"Quite the contrary. When a man has a property he must be married. I +suppose I shall have the McCollop acres some of these days myself." +The McCollop acres were said to lie somewhere in Caithness, but no +one knew their exact locality. "But a man will naturally put off the +evil day as long as he can. I should have thought that you might have +allowed yourself to run another five years yet." The flattery did +touch Sir Francis, and he began to ask himself whether he had gone +too far with Miss Altifiorla. Then came the "Western Telegraph," and +he told himself that he had gone too far. + +"By G----, she has told everybody in that beastly hole," said he. The +"beastly hole" was intended to represent Exeter. + +"Of course she has. You didn't suppose but that she would begin to +wear her honour and glory as soon as they were wearable." + +"She pledged herself not to mention it to a single soul," said Sir +Francis. Upon this Captain McCollop merely shrugged his shoulders. +"I'm d----d if I put up with it. Look here! All her filthy +progenitors put into the newspaper to show how grand she is." + +"I shouldn't care so very much about that," said the cautious +Captain, who began to perceive that he need not be specially bitter +against the lady. + +"You're not going to marry her." + +"Well, no; that's true." + +"Nor am I," said Sir Francis with an air of great decision. "She +hasn't got a word of mine in writing to show,--not a word that would +go for anything with a jury." + +"Hasn't she indeed?" + +"Not a word. I have taken precious good care of that. Between you and +me, I don't mind acknowledging it. But it had never come to more than +that." + +"Then in fact you are not bound to her." + +"No; I am not;--not what I call bound. She's a handsome woman you +know,--very handsome." + +"I suppose so." + +"And she'd do the drawing-room well, and the sitting at the top of +the table, and all that kind of thing." + +"But it's such a deuced heavy price to pay," said Captain McCollop. + +"I should not have minded the price," said Sir Francis, not quite +understanding his friend's remark, "if she hadn't made me ridiculous +in this way. The Fiascos and the Disgrazias! What the devil are they +to our old English families? If she had let it remain as it was, +I might have gone through with it. But as she has told all Exeter +and got that stuff put into the newspapers, she must take the +consequences. One is worse than another, as far as I can see." By +this Sir Francis intended to express his opinion that Miss Altifiorla +was at any rate quite as bad as Cecilia Holt. + +But the next thing to be decided was the mode of escape. Though Sir +Francis had declared that he was not what he called bound, yet he +knew that he must take some steps in the matter to show that he +considered himself to be free; and as the Captain was a clever man, +and well conversant with such things, he was consulted. "I should +say, take a run abroad for a short time," said the Captain. + +"Is that necessary?" + +"You'd avoid some of the disagreeables. People will talk, and your +relatives at Exeter might kick up a row." + +"Oh, d---- my relatives." + +"With all my heart. But people have such a way of making themselves +disgusting. What do you say to taking a run through the States?" + +"Would you go with me?" asked the Baronet. + +"If you wish it I shouldn't mind," said the Captain considerately. +"Only to do any good we should be off quickly. But you must write to +some one first." + +"Before I start, you think?" + +"Oh, yes;--certainly. If she didn't hear from you before you went, +you'd be persecuted by her letters." + +"There is no end to her letters. I've quite made up my mind what I'll +do about them. I won't open one of them. After all, why should she +write to me when the affair is over? You've heard of Mrs. Western, I +suppose?" + +"Yes; I've heard of her." + +"I didn't write to her when that affair was over. I didn't pester her +with long-winded scrawls. She changed her mind, and I've changed +mine; and so we're equal. I've paid her, and she can pay me if she +knows how." + +"I hope Miss Altifiorla will look at it in the same light," said the +Captain. + +"Why shouldn't she? She knew all about it when that other affair +came to an end. I wasn't treated with any particular ceremony. The +truth is, people don't look at these things now as they used to do. +Men and women mostly do as they like till they've absolutely fixed +themselves. There used to be duels and all that kind of nonsense. +There is none of that now." + +"No; you won't get shot." + +"I don't mind being shot any more than another man; but you must take +the world as you find it. One young woman treated me awfully rough, +to tell the truth. And why am I not to treat another just as roughly? +If you look at it all round, you'll see that I have used them just as +they have used me." + +"At any rate," said Captain McCollop, after a pause, "if you have +made up your mind, you'd better write the letter." + +Sir Francis did not see the expediency of writing the letter +immediately, but at last he gave way to his friend's arguments. And +he did so the more readily as his friend was there to write the +letter for him. After some attempts on his own part, he put the +writing of the letter into the hands of the Captain, and left him +alone for an entire morning to perform the task. The letter when it +was sent, after many corrections and revises, ran as follows:-- + + + MY DEAR MISS ALTIFIORLA,--I think that I am bound in + honour without a moment's delay to make you aware of the + condition of my mind in regard to marriage. I ain't quite + sure but what I shall be better without it altogether.-- + + +"I'd rather marry her twice over than let my cousin have the title +and the property," said the Baronet with energy. "You needn't tell +her that," said McCollop. "Of course when you've cleared the ground +in this quarter you can begin again with another lady." + + + --I think that perhaps I may have expressed myself badly + so as to warrant you in understanding more than I have + meant. If so, I am sure the fault has been mine, and I am + very sorry for it. Things have turned up with which I need + not perhaps trouble you, and compel me to go for a while + to a very distant country. I shall be off almost before + I can receive a reply to this letter. Indeed, I may be + gone before an answer can reach me. But I have thought it + right not to let a post go by without informing you of my + decision. + + I have seen that article in the Exeter newspaper + respecting your family in Italy, and think that it must + be very gratifying to you. I did understand, however, + that not a word was to have been spoken as to the matter. + Nothing had escaped from me, at any rate. I fear that + some of your intimate friends at Exeter must have been + indiscreet. + + Believe me yours, + With the most sincere admiration, + + FRANCIS GERALDINE. + + +He was not able to start for America immediately after writing this, +but he quitted his Lodge in Scotland, leaving no immediate address, +and hid himself for a while among his London clubs, where he trusted +that the lady might not find him. In a week's time he would be off to +the United States. + +Who shall picture the rage of Miss Altifiorla when she received +this letter? This was the very danger which she had feared, but had +hardly thought it worth her while to fear. It was the one possible +break-down in her triumph; but had been, she thought, so unlikely as +to be hardly possible. But now on reading the letter she felt that +no redress was within her reach. To whom should she go for succour? +Though her ancestors had been so noble, she had no one near her to +take up the cudgels on her behalf. With her friends in Exeter she had +become a little proud of late, so that she had turned from her those +who might have assisted her. "The coward!" she said to herself, "the +base coward! He dares to treat me in this way because he knows that +I am alone." Then she became angry in her heart against Cecilia, who +she felt had set a dangerous example in this practice of jilting. Had +Cecilia not treated Sir Francis so unceremoniously he certainly would +not have dared so to treat her. There was truth in this, as in that +case Sir Francis would at this moment have been the husband of Mrs. +Western. + +But what should she do? She took out every scrap of letter that she +had received from the man, and read each scrap with the greatest +care. In the one letter there certainly was an offer very plainly +made, as he had intended it; but she doubted whether she could depend +upon it in a court of law. "Don't you think that you and I know each +other well enough to make a match of it?" It was certainly written +as an offer, and her two answers to him would make it plain that it +was so. But she had an idea that she would not be allowed to use her +own letters against him. And then to have her gushing words read as +a reply to so cold a proposition would be death to her. There was +not another syllable in the whole correspondence written by him to +signify that he had in truth intended to become her husband. She felt +sure that he had been wickedly crafty in the whole matter, and had +lured her on to expose herself in her innocence. + +But what should she do? Should she write to him an epistle full of +tenderness? She felt sure that it would be altogether ineffectual. +Should she fill sheets with indignation? It would be of no use unless +she could follow up her indignation by strong measures. Should she +let the thing pass by in silence, as though she and Sir Francis had +never known each other? She would certainly do so, but that she +had allowed her matrimonial prospects to become common through all +Exeter. She must also let Exeter know how badly Sir Francis intended +to treat her. To her, too, the idea of a prolonged sojourn in the +United States presented itself. In former days there had come upon +her a great longing to lecture at Chicago, at Saint Paul's, and +Omaha, on the distinctive duties of the female sex. Now again the +idea returned to her. She thought that in one of those large Western +halls, full of gas and intelligence, she could rise to the height of +her subject with a tremendous eloquence. But then would not the name +of Sir Francis travel with her and crush her? + +She did resolve upon informing Mrs. Green. She took three days to +think of it, and then she sent for Mrs. Green. "Of all human beings," +she said, "you, I think, are the truest to me." Mrs. Green of course +expressed herself as much flattered. "And therefore I will tell you. +No false pride shall operate with me to make me hold my tongue. Of +all the false deceivers that have ever broken a woman's heart, that +man is the basest and the falsest." + +In this way she let all Exeter know that she was not to be married to +Sir Francis Geraldine; and another paragraph appeared in the "Western +Telegraph," declaring that after all Sir Francis Geraldine was not to +be allied to the Fiascos and Disgrazias of Rome. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +CONCLUSION. + + +Though the news of Miss Altifiorla's broken engagement did reach Mrs. +Western at St. David's, she was in a state of mind which prevented +her almost from recognising the fact. It was the very day on which +her husband was to come to her. And her joy was so extreme as almost +to have become painful. "Mamma," she said, "I shall not know what to +say to him." + +"Just let him come and receive him quietly." + +"Receive him quietly! How can I be quiet when he will have come back +to me? I think you do not realise the condition I have been in during +the last three months." + +"Yes, my dear, I do. You have been deserted, and it has been very +bad." + +But Mrs. Western did not approve of the word used, as it carried a +strong reproach against her husband. She was anxious now to take +upon herself the whole weight of the fault which had produced their +separation, and to hold him to have been altogether sinless. And +as yet she was not quite sure that he would again take her to his +home. All she knew was that he would be that day in Exeter, and that +then so much might depend on her own conduct. Of this she was quite +sure,--that were he to reject her she must die. In her present +condition, and with the memory present to her of the dreams she had +dreamed, she could not live alone at Exeter, divided from him, and +there give birth to her child. But he must surely intend to take her +into his arms when he should arrive. It could not be possible that he +should again reject her when he had once seen her. + +Then she became fidgety about her personal appearance,--a female +frailty which had never much prevailed with her,--and was anxious +even about her ribbons and her dress. "He does think so much about a +woman being neat," she said to her mother. + +"I never perceived it in him, my dear." + +"Because you have not known him as I have done. He does not say much, +but no one's eye is so accurate and so severe." All this arose from a +certain passage which dwelt in her remembrance, when he had praised +the fit of her gown, and had told her with a kiss that no woman ever +dressed so well as she did. + +"I think, my dear," continued Mrs. Holt, "that if you wear your black +silk just simply, it will do very well." + +Simply! Yes; she must certainly be simple. But it is so hard to be +simple in such a way as to please a man's eye. And yet, even when the +time came near, she did not dare to remain long in her bedroom lest +her own maid should know the source of her anxiety. At one time she +had declared that she would go down to the station to meet him, but +that idea had been soon abandoned. The first kiss she would give him +should not be seen by strangers. + +But if she were perplexed as to how she would bear herself on the +coming occasion he was much more so. It may be said of him, that +through his whole journey home from Dresden he was disturbed, +unhappy, and silent. And that when his sister left him in London, +and that he had nothing immediately before him but the journey down +to Exeter, he was almost overwhelmed by the difficulties of the +situation. His case as a man was so much worse than hers as a woman. +The speaking must all be done by him, and what was there that he +could say? There was still present to him a keen sense of the wrong +that he had endured; though he owned to himself that the punishment +which at the spur of the moment he had resolved upon inflicting was +too severe,--both upon her and upon himself. And though he felt +that he had been injured, he did gradually acknowledge that he had +believed something worse than the truth. How to read the riddle he +did not know, but there was a riddle which he had not read aright. If +Cecilia should still be silent, he must still be left in the dark. +But he did understand that he was to expect no confession of a fault, +and that he was to exact no show of repentance. + +When the train arrived at Exeter he determined to be driven at once +to the Hotel. It made him unhappy to think that everyone around him +should be aware that he was occupying rooms at an inn while his wife +was living in the town; but he did not dare to take his portmanteau +to Mrs. Holt's house and hang up his hat in her hall as though +nothing had been the matter. "Put it into a cab," he said to a porter +as the door was opened, "and bid him drive to the Clarence." + +But a man whose face he remembered had laid his hand upon his valise +before it was well out of the railway carriage. "Please, Sir," said +the man, "you are to go up to the house, and I'm to carry your +things. I am Sam Barnet, the gardener." + +"Very well, Sam," said Mr. Western. "Go on and I'll follow you." Now, +as he well knew, the house at St. David's was less than half a mile +from the railway station. + +He felt that his misery would be over in ten minutes, and yet for +ten minutes how miserable a man he was! Whilst she was trembling +with joy, a joy that was only dashed by a vague fear of his possible +sternness, he was blaming his fate as it shortened by every step the +distance between him and his wife. At last he had entered the path +of the little garden, and the door of the house was open before him. +He ventured to look, but did not see her. He was in the hall, but +yet he did not see her. "Cecilia is in the breakfast parlour," said +the voice of Mrs. Holt, whom in his confusion he did not notice. The +breakfast parlour was in the back part of the house, looking out into +the garden, and thither he went. The door was just ajar and he passed +in. In a second the whole trouble was over. She was in his arms at +once, kissing his face, stroking his hair, leaning on his bosom, +holding his arm round her own waist as though to make sure that he +should not leave her; crying and laughing at the same moment. "Oh, +George, my own George! It has all been my doing; but you will forgive +me! Say that one word that I am 'forgiven.'" Then there came another +storm of kisses which frustrated the possibility of his speaking to +her. + +What a wife she was to possess! How graceful, how gracious, how +precious were her charms,--charms in which no other woman surely ever +approached her! How warm and yet how cool was the touch of her lips; +how absolutely symmetrical was the sweet curve of her bust; what a +fragrance came from her breath! And the light of her eyes, made more +bright by her tears, shone into his with a heavenly brightness. Her +soft hair as he touched it filled him with joy. And once more she +was all his own. Let the secret be what it might, he was quite sure +that she was his own. As he bent down over her she pressed her cheek +against his and again drew his arm tighter round her waist. "George, +if you wished to know how I love you, you have taken the right step. +I have been sick for you, but now I shall be sick no longer. Oh, +George, it was my fault; but say that you have forgiven me." + +He could not bring himself to speak so much of an accusation as would +be contained in that word "forgive." How was he to pardon one whose +present treatment to him was so perfect, so loving, and so lovely? +"Sit down, George, and let me tell you how it was. Of course I was +wrong, but I did not mean to be wrong." + +"No, no," he said. "There shall be no wrong." And yet why had not +his sister told him that it would be like this? Why had she so +stoutly maintained that Cecilia would confess nothing. Here she was +acknowledging everything with most profuse confession. What could any +man desire more? "Do not speak of it;--at any rate now. Let me be +happy as I have got you." + +Then there was another storm of kisses, but she was not to be put +off from her purpose. "You must know it all. Sit down;--there, like +that." And she seated herself, leaning back upon him on the sofa. +"Before we had been abroad I had been engaged to that man." + +"Yes;--I understand that." + +"I had been engaged to him,--without knowing him. Then when I found +that he was not what I thought him, I made up my mind that it would +be better to throw him over than make us both miserable for life." + +"Certainly." + +"And I did so. I made a struggle and did it. From that time to this +I have had nothing to say to him,--nor he to me. You may say that I +treated him badly." + +"I don't say so. I, at any rate, do not say so." + +"My own, own man. Then we went abroad, and as good fortune would have +it you came in our way. It was not long before you made me love you. +That was not my fault, George. I loved you so dearly when you were +telling me that story about the other girl;--but, somehow, I could +not tell you then a similar story about myself. It seemed at first so +odd that my story should be the same, and then it looked almost as +though I were mocking you. Had you had no story to tell, you would +have known all my own before I had allowed myself to be made happy by +your love. Do you not perceive that it was so?" + +"Yes," he said, slowly, "I can understand what you mean." + +"But it was a mistake; for from day to day the difficulty grew upon +me, and when once there was a difficulty, I was not strong enough to +overcome it. There never came the moment in which I was willing to +mar my own happiness by telling you that which I thought would wound +yours. I had not dreamed beforehand how much more difficult it would +become when I should once be absolutely your wife. Then your sister +came and she told me. She is better than anybody in the world except +yourself." + +"All women are better than I am," he said. "It is their nature to be +so." + +Some half-ludicrous idea of Miss Altifiorla and her present +difficulties came across her mind, as she contradicted his assertion +with another shower of kisses. "She told me," continued Cecilia, +"that I was bound to let you know all the truth. Of course I knew +that; of course I intended it. But that odious woman was in the +house, and I could not tell you till she was gone. Then he came." + +"Why did he come?" + +"He had no right to come. No man with the smallest spirit would have +shown himself at your door. I have thought about it again and again, +and I can only imagine that it has been his intention to revenge +himself. But what matter his intentions so long as they do not come +between you and me? I want you to know all the truth, but not to +imagine more than the truth. Since the day on which I had told him +that he and I must part, there has been no communication between us +but what you know. He came to Durton and made his way into the house, +and Miss Altifiorla was there and saw it all; and then you were +told." + +"He is a mean brute." + +"But I am not a brute. Am I a brute? Say that I am nice once more. +You know everything now,--everything, everything. I do own that I +have been wrong to conceal it. My very soul should be laid bare to +you." + +"Cecilia, I will never be hard to you again." + +"I do not say that you have been hard. I do not accuse you. I know +that I have been wrong, and I am quite content that we should again +be friends. Oh, George, just at this moment I think it is sweeter +than if you had never sent me away." + +And so the reconciliation was made, and Mr. Western and Cecilia were +once more together. But no doubt to her mind, as she thought of it +all, there was present the happy conviction that she had been more +sinned against than sinning. She had forgiven, whereas she might have +exacted forgiveness. She had been gracious, whereas she might have +followed her mother's advice and have been repellent till she had +brought him to her feet. As it was, her strong desire to have him +once again had softened her, and now she had the double reward. She +had what she wanted, and was able to congratulate herself at the same +time on her virtue. But he, though he had too what he wanted, became +gradually aware that he had been cruel, stiff-necked, and obdurate. +She was everything that he desired, but he was hardly happy because +he was conscious that he had been unjust. And he was a man that loved +justice even against himself, and could not be quite happy till he +had made restitution. + +He stayed a week with her at Exeter, during which time he so far +recovered himself as to be able to dine at the deanery, and return +Dr. Pigrum's call. Then he was to start for his own house in +Berkshire, having asked Mrs. Holt to come to them a fortnight before +Christmas. He would have called on Miss Altifiorla had he not +understood that Miss Altifiorla in her present state of mind received +no visitors. She gave it out that since men had been men and women +had been women, no woman had been so basely injured as herself. But +she intended to redress the wrongs of her sex by a great movement, +and was devoting herself at present to hard study with that object. +She used to be seen daily walking two miles and back on the Crediton +Road, it being necessary to preserve her health for the sake of the +great work she had in hand. But it was understood that no one was to +accost her, or speak to her on these occasions, and at other times it +was well known that she was engaged upon the labours of her task. + +"And to-morrow we will go back to Durton," said Mr. Western to his +wife. + +"Dear Durton, how happy I shall be to see it once again!" + +"And how happy I shall be to take you again to see it! But before we +go it is necessary that I should say one thing." + +This he spoke in so stern a voice that he almost frightened her. Was +it possible that after all he should find it necessary to refer again +to the little fault which she had so cordially avowed? + +"What is it, George?" + +"I have made a mistake." + +"No, George, no, don't say so. There has been no mistake. A man +should own nothing. I have thought about it and am sure of it." + +"Let a man commit no fault, and then what you say will be true. I +made a mistake, and allowed myself to be so governed by it as to +commit a great injustice. I am aware of it, and I trust I may never +repeat it. Such a mistake as that I think that I shall never commit +again. But I did it, and I ask you to forgive me." In answer to this +she could only embrace him and hang upon him, and implore him in +silence to spare her. "So it has been, and I ask your pardon." + +"No, George, no; no." + +"Will you not pardon me when I ask you?" + +"I cannot bring myself to say such a word. You know that it is all +right between us. I cannot speak the word which you shall never be +made to hear. I am the happiest woman now in all England, and you +must not force me to say that which shall in any way lessen my +glory." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEPT IN THE DARK*** + + +******* This file should be named 22000-8.txt or 22000-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/0/0/22000 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p class="noindent">Title: Kept in the Dark</p> +<p class="noindent">Author: Anthony Trollope</p> +<p class="noindent">Release Date: September 10, 2007 [eBook #22000]<br /> +HTML version most recently updated: June 13, 2010</p> +<p class="noindent">Language: English</p> +<p class="noindent">Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p class="noindent">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEPT IN THE DARK***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D.</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>KEPT IN THE DARK</h1> + +<p> </p> +<h4>by</h4> + +<h2>ANTHONY TROLLOPE</h2> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h4>First published in serial form May through December, 1882, in +<i>Good Words</i><br /> +and in book form in 1882. Trollope died during the last +month of serial publication.</h4> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<p> </p> +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="1"> +<tr><td colspan="2" align="center"><b><span class="small">VOLUME I.</span></b><br /> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">I. </td> <td><a href="#c1" >CECILIA HOLT AND HER THREE FRIENDS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">II. </td> <td><a href="#c2" >SIR FRANCIS GERALDINE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">III. </td> <td><a href="#c3" >THE END OF THAT EPISODE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IV. </td> <td><a href="#c4" >MR. WESTERN.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">V. </td> <td><a href="#c5" >CECILIA'S SECOND CHANCE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VI. </td> <td><a href="#c6" >WHAT ALL HER FRIENDS SAID ABOUT IT.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VII. </td> <td><a href="#c7" >MISS ALTIFIORLA'S ARRIVAL.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VIII. </td> <td><a href="#c8" >LADY GRANT.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IX. </td> <td><a href="#c9" >MISS ALTIFIORLA'S DEPARTURE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">X. </td> <td><a href="#c10" >SIR FRANCIS TRAVELS WITH MISS ALTIFIORLA.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XI. </td> <td><a href="#c11" >MR. WESTERN HEARS THE STORY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XII. </td> <td><a href="#c12" >MR. WESTERN'S DECISION.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td colspan="2" align="center"> <br /><b><span class="small">VOLUME II.</span></b><br /> </td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIII. </td> <td><a href="#c13" >MRS. WESTERN PREPARES TO LEAVE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIV. </td> <td><a href="#c14" >TO WHAT A PUNISHMENT!</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XV. </td> <td><a href="#c15" >ONCE MORE AT EXETER.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVI. </td> <td><a href="#c16" >"IT IS ALTOGETHER UNTRUE."</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVII. </td> <td><a href="#c17" >MISS ALTIFIORLA RISES IN THE WORLD.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVIII. </td> <td><a href="#c18" >A MAN'S PRIDE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIX. </td> <td><a href="#c19" >DICK TAKES HIS FINAL LEAVE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XX. </td> <td><a href="#c20" >THE SECRET ESCAPES.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXI. </td> <td><a href="#c21" >LADY GRANT AT DRESDEN.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXII. </td> <td><a href="#c22" >MR. WESTERN YIELDS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXIII. </td> <td><a href="#c23" >SIR FRANCIS' ESCAPE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXIV. </td> <td><a href="#c24" >CONCLUSION.</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> + + +<p><a name="c1" id="c1"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VOLUME I.</h3> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> +<h4>CECILIA HOLT AND HER THREE FRIENDS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>There came an episode in the life of Cecilia Holt which it is +essential should first be told. When she was twenty-two years old she +was living with her mother at Exeter. Mrs. Holt was a widow with +comfortable means,—ample that is for herself and her daughter to +supply them with all required by provincial comfort and provincial +fashion. They had a house without the city, with a garden and a +gardener and two boys, and they kept a brougham, which was the joint +care of the gardener and the boy inside and the boy outside. They saw +their friends and were seen by them. Once in the year they left home +for a couple of months and went,—wherever the daughter wished. +Sometimes there was a week or two in London; sometimes in Paris or +Switzerland. The mother seemed to be only there to obey the +daughter's behests, and Cecilia was the most affectionate of masters. +Nothing could have been less disturbed or more happy than their +lives. No doubt there was present in Cecilia's manner a certain +looking down upon her mother,—of which all the world was aware, +unless it was her mother and herself. The mother was not blessed by +literary tastes, whereas Cecilia was great among French and German +poets. And Cecilia was æsthetic, whereas the mother thought more of +the delicate providing of the table. Cecilia had two or three female +friends, who were not quite her equals in literature but nearly so. +There was Maude Hippesley, the Dean's daughter, and Miss Altifiorla, +the daughter of an Italian father who had settled in Exeter with her +maternal aunt,—in poor circumstances, but with an exalted opinion as +to her own blood. Francesca Altifiorla was older than her friend, and +was, perhaps, the least loved of the three, but the most often seen. +And there was Mrs. Green, the Minor Canon's wife, who had the +advantage of a husband, but was nevertheless humble and retiring. +They formed the <i>élite</i> of Miss Holt's society and were called by +their Christian names. The Italian's name was Francesca and the +married lady was called Bessy.</p> + +<p>Cecilia had no lovers till there came in an evil hour to Exeter one +Sir Francis Geraldine. She had somewhat scoffed at love, or at the +necessity of having a lover. She and Miss Altifiorla had been of one +mind on that subject. Maude Hippesley had a lover and could not be +supposed to give her accord. Mrs. Green had had one, but expressed an +opinion that it was a trouble well over. A husband might be a +comfort, but a lover was a "bother." "It's such a blessing to be able +to wear my old gloves before him. He doesn't mind it now as he knows +he'll have to pay for the new." But at length there came the lover. +Sir Francis Geraldine was a man who had property in the county but +had not lately lived upon it. He was of an old family, of which he +was very proud. He was an old baronet, a circumstance which he seemed +to think was very much in his favour. Good heavens! From what a +height did he affect to look down upon the peers of the last twenty +years. His property was small, but so singular were his gifts that he +was able to be proud of that also. It had all been in the possession +of his family since the time of James I. And he was a man who knew +everything though only forty, and by no means old in appearance. But, +if you were to believe him, he had all that experience of the world +which nothing but unlimited years could have given him. He knew all +the Courts in Europe, and all the race courses,—and more especially +all the Jacks and Toms who had grown into notoriety in those +different worlds of fashion. He came to Exeter to stay with his +brother-in-law, the Dean, and to look after his property for a while. +There he fell in love with Cecilia Holt, and, after a fortnight of +prosperous love-making, made her an offer. This the young lady +accepted, averse as she was to lovers, and for a month was the +happiest and proudest girl in all Exeter. The happiness and pride of +a girl in her lover is something wonderful to behold. He is surely +the only man, and she the only woman born worthy of such a man. She +is to be the depository of all his secrets, and the recipient of all +his thoughts. That other young ladies should accept her with +submission in this period of her ecstasy would be surprising were it +not that she is so truly exalted by her condition as to make her for +a short period an object to them of genuine worship. In this way, for +a month or six weeks, did Miss Holt's friends submit to her and bear +with her. They endured to be considered but as the outside personages +of an indifferent outer world, whereas Cecilia herself with her lover +were the only two inhabitants of the small celestial empire in which +they lived. Then there gradually came to be a change. And it must be +acknowledged here that the change commenced with Cecilia Holt +herself.</p> + +<p>The greater the adoration of the girl the deeper the abyss into which +she falls,—if she be doomed to fall at all. A month of imperfection +she can bear, even though the imperfections be very glaring. For a +month, or perhaps for six weeks, the desire to subject herself to a +newly-found superior being supports her spirit against all trials. +Neglect when it first comes is not known to be neglect. The first +bursts of ill-temper have about them something of the +picturesque,—or at any rate of the grotesque. Even the selfishness +is displayed on behalf of an object so exalted as to be excusable. So +it was with Cecilia Holt. The period of absolute, unmistaken, +unreasonable love lasted but for six weeks after her engagement. +During those six weeks all Exeter knew of it. There was no reticence +on the part of any one. Sir Francis Geraldine had fallen in love with +Cecilia Holt and a great triumph had been won. Cecilia, in spite of +her general well-known objection to lovers, had triumphed a little. +It is not to be supposed that she had miscarried herself +outrageously. He is cold-hearted, almost cruel, who does not like to +see the little triumph of a girl in such circumstances, who will not +sympathise with her, and join with her, if occasion come, in her +exaltation. No fault was found with Cecilia among her friends in +Exeter, but it was a fact that she did triumph. How it was that the +time of her worship then came to an end it would be difficult to say. +She was perhaps struck by neglect, or something which appeared to her +to be almost scorn. And the man himself, she found, was ignorant. The +ill-temper had lost its picturesqueness, and become worse than +grotesque. And the selfishness seemed to be displayed on an object +not so high as to render it justifiable. Then came a fortnight of +vacillating misery, in which she did not dare to tell her discomfort +to either of her friends. Her mother, who, though she could not read +Schiller, was as anxious for her daughter's happiness as any mother +could be, saw something of this and at last ventured to ask a +question. "Was not Francis to have been here this morning?"</p> + +<p>Cecilia was at that moment thinking of her lover, thinking that he +had been untrue to his tryst now for the third time; and thinking +also that she knew him to be untrue not with any valid excuse, not +with the slightest cause for an excuse, but with a pre-determination +to show the girl to whom he was engaged that it did not suit him any +longer to be at the trouble of serving her. "Oh, mamma, how foolish +you are! How can I tell what Sir Francis Geraldine may be doing?"</p> + +<p>"But I thought he was to have been here."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, please understand that I do not carry him about tied to my +apron-strings. When it pleases him to come he will come." Then she +went on with her book and was silent for a minute or two. Then she +broke out again. "I am sure there ought to be a rule in life that +people when they are engaged should never see each other again till +they meet in the church."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that would do at all, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps things were different when you were young. The world becomes +less simple every day. However, mamma, we must put up with Sir +Francis whether he come or whether he remain away."</p> + +<p>"The world may be less simple," said Mrs. Holt after a pause, "but I +don't think it half so nice. Young men used to think that there was +nothing so pleasant as a young lady's company when,—when,—when they +were engaged, you know." Then the conversation ended, and the morning +passed without the coming of Sir Francis.</p> + +<p>After that a week passed,—with great forbearance on the part of +Cecilia. She thought herself at least to be forbearing. She thought +much of her lover, and had no doubt tried to interest herself in the +usual conversation of her friends. But they, by the end of the week, +perceived that Sir Francis was never first spoken of by herself. To +Maude Hippesley it was very difficult to avoid an expression of her +doubts, because Maude was niece to Sir Francis. And Sir Francis was +much talked about at the Deanery. "My uncle was not down here this +morning," Maude would say:—and then she would go on to excuse the +defalcation. He had had business requiring his immediate +attention,—probably something as to the marriage settlements. "But +of course he will tell you all that." Cecilia saw through the little +attempts. Maude was quite aware that Sir Francis was becoming weary +of his lover's cares, and made the best excuse she could for them. +But Maude Hippesley never had liked her uncle.</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear Maude," said Cecilia, "pray let him do what he pleases +with himself in these the last days of his liberty. When he has got a +wife he must attend to her,—more or less. Now he is as free as air. +Pray let him do as he pleases, and for heaven's sake do not bother +him!" Maude who had her own lover, and was perfectly satisfied with +him though she had been engaged to him for nearly twelve months, knew +that things were not going well, and was unhappy. But at the moment +she said nothing further.</p> + +<p>"Where is this recreant knight?" said Francesca. There was something +in the tone of Miss Altifiorla's voice which grated against Cecilia's +ears, and almost made her angry. But she knew that in her present +condition it behoved her to be especially careful. Had she resolved +to break with her betrothed she would have been quite open on the +subject to all her friends. She would have been open to all Exeter. +But in her present condition of mind she was resolved,—she thought +she was resolved,—to go on with her marriage.</p> + +<p>"Why you should call him a recreant knight, I cannot for the life of +me understand," she said. "But it seems that Sir Francis, who is not +exactly in his first youth, is supposed to be as attentive as a young +turtle dove."</p> + +<p>"I always used to think," said Miss Altifiorla gravely, "that a +gentleman was bound to keep his promise."</p> + +<p>"Oh heavens, how grave you all are! A gentleman and his promise! Do +you mean to assert that Sir Francis is no gentleman, and does not +keep his promises? Because if so I shall be angry." Then there was an +end of that conversation.</p> + +<p>But she was stirred to absolute anger by what took place with Mrs. +Green, though she was unable to express her anger. Mrs. Green's +manner to her had always been that of a somewhat humble friend,—of +one who lived in lodgings in the High Street, and who accepted +dinners without returning them. And since this engagement with Sir +Francis had become a fact, her manner had become perhaps a little +more humble. She used to say of herself that of course she was poor; +of course she had nothing to give. Her husband was only a Minor +Canon, and had married her, alas, without a fortune. It is not to be +supposed that on this account Cecilia was inclined to ill-treat her +friend; but the way of the world is such. People are taken and must +be taken in the position they frame for themselves. Mrs. Green was +Cecilia Holt's humble friend, and as such was expected to be humble. +When, therefore, she volunteered a little advice to Cecilia about her +lover, it was not taken altogether in good part. "My dear Cecilia," +she said, "I do really think that you ought to say something to Sir +Francis."</p> + +<p>"Say something!" answered Cecilia sharply. "What am I to say? I say +everything to him that comes in my way."</p> + +<p>"I think, my dear, he is just a little inattentive. I have gone +through it all, and of course know what it means. It is not that he +is deficient in love, but that he allows a hundred little things to +stand in his way."</p> + +<p>"What nonsense you do talk!"</p> + +<p>"But, my dear, you see I have gone through it all myself, and I do +know what I am talking about."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Green—! Do you mean to liken Mr. Green to Sir Francis?"</p> + +<p>"They are both gentlemen," said Mrs. Green with a slight tone of +anger. "And though Sir Francis is a baronet, Mr. Green is a +clergyman."</p> + +<p>"My dear Bessie, you know that is not what I meant. In that respect +they are both alike. But you, when you were engaged, were about three +years younger than the man, and I am nearly twenty years younger than +Sir Francis. You don't suppose that I can put myself altogether on +the same platform with him as you did with your lover. It is absurd +to suppose it. Do you let him go his way, and me go mine. You may be +sure that not a word of reproach will ever fall from my lips."—"Till +we are married," Cecilia had intended to say, but she did not +complete the sentence.</p> + +<p>But the words of her comforters had their effect, as no doubt was the +case with Job. She had complained to no one, but everybody had seen +her condition. Her poor dear old mother, who would have put up with a +very moderate amount of good usage on the part of such a lover as Sir +Francis, had been aware that things were not as they should be. Her +three friends, to whom she had not opened her mouth in the way of +expressing her grievance, had all seen her trouble. That Maude +Hippesley and Miss Altifiorla had noticed it did not strike her with +much surprise, but that Mrs. Green should have expressed herself so +boldly was startling. She could not but turn the matter over in her +own mind and ask herself whether she were ill-treated. And it was not +only those differences which the ladies noticed which struck her as +ominous, but a certain way which Sir Francis had when talking to +herself which troubled her. That light tone of contempt if begun now +would certainly not be dropped after their marriage. He had assumed +an easy way of almost laughing at her, of quizzing her pursuits, and, +worse still, of only half listening to her, which she felt to promise +very badly for her future happiness. If he wanted his liberty he +should have it,—now and then. She would never be a drag on her +husband's happiness. She had resolved from the very first not to be +an exigeant wife. She would care for all his cares, but she would +never be a troublesome wife. All that had been matter of deep thought +to her. And if he were not given to literary tastes in earnest,—for +in the first days of their love-making there had been, as was +natural, a little pretence,—she would not harass him by her +pursuits. And she would sympathise with his racing and his shooting. +And she would interest herself, if possible, about Newmarket,—as to +which place she found he had a taste. And, joined to all the rest, +there came a conviction that his real tastes did take that direction. +She had never before heard that he had a passion for the turf; but if +it should turn out that he was a gambler! Had any of her friends +mentioned such an idea to her a week ago, how she would have rebuked +that friend! But now she added this to her other grievances, and +began to tell herself that she had become engaged to a man whom she +did not know and whom she already doubted.</p> + +<p>Then there came a week of very troubled existence,—of existence the +more troubled because she had no one to whom to tell her trouble. As +to putting confidence in her mother,—that idea never occurred to +her. Her mother among her friends was the humblest of all. To tell +her mother that she was going to be married was a matter of course, +but she had never consulted her mother on the subject. And now, at +the end of the week, she had almost resolved to break with the man +without having intimated to any one that such was her intention. And +what excuse had she? There was excuse enough to her own mind, to her +own heart. But what excuse could she give to him or to the world? He +was confident enough,—so confident as to vex her by his confidence. +Though he had come to treat her with indifference, like a plaything, +she was quite sure that he did not dream of having his marriage +broken off. He was secured,—she was sure that this was his +feeling,—by her love, by her ambition, by his position in the world. +He could make her Lady Geraldine! Was it to be supposed that she +should not wish to be Lady Geraldine? He could take what liberties he +pleased without any danger of losing her! It was her conviction that +such was the condition of his mind that operated the strongest in +bringing her to her resolution.</p> + +<p>But she must tell some one. She must have a confidante. "Maude," she +said one day, "I have made up my mind not to marry your uncle."</p> + +<p>"Cecilia!"</p> + +<p>"I have. No one as yet has been told, but I have resolved. Should I +see him to-morrow, or next day, or the next, I shall tell him."</p> + +<p>"You are not in earnest?"</p> + +<p>"Is it likely that I should jest on such a subject;—or that if I had +a mind to do so I should tell you? You must keep my secret. You must +not tell your uncle. It must come to him from myself. At the present +moment he does not in the least know me,—but he will."</p> + +<p>"And why? Why is there to be this break;—why to be these broken +promises?"</p> + +<p>"I put it to yourself whether you do not know the why. How often have +you made excuses for him? Why have the excuses been necessary? I am +prepared to bear all the blame. I must bear it. But I am not prepared +to make myself miserable for ever because I have made a mistake as to +a man's character. Of course I shall suffer,—because I love him. He +will not suffer much,—because he does not love me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!"</p> + +<p>"You know that he does not," said Cecilia, shaking her head. "You +know it. You know it. At any rate I know it. And as the thing has to +be done, it shall be done quickly." There was much more said between +the two girls on the subject, but Maude when she left her friend was +sure that her friend was in earnest.</p> + + +<p><a name="c2" id="c2"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> +<h4>SIR FRANCIS GERALDINE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>On that same afternoon, at about tea time, Sir Francis came up to the +house. He had said that he would be there if he could get there,—and +he got there. He was shown into the drawing-room, where was sitting +Mrs. Holt with her daughter, and began to tell them that he was to +leave the Deanery on the following morning and not be back till a day +or two before his marriage. "Where are you going?" Cecilia asked, +meaning nothing, only gaining time till she should have determined +how she should carry out her purpose.</p> + +<p>"Well;—if you must know, I am going to Goodwood. I had not thought +of it. But some friends have reminded me that as these are to be the +last days of my liberty I may as well enjoy them."</p> + +<p>"Your friends are very complaisant to me," said Cecilia in a tone of +voice which seemed to imply that she took it all in earnest.</p> + +<p>"One's friends never do care a straw for the young lady on such an +occasion," said Sir Francis. "They regard her as the conquering +enemy, and him as the conquered victim."</p> + +<p>"And you desire a little relaxation from your fetters."</p> + +<p>"Well; just a last flutter." All this had been said with such a +mixture of indifferent badinage on his part, and of serious anger on +hers, that Mrs. Holt, who saw it all and understood it, sat very +uneasy in her chair. "To tell the truth," continued he, "all the +instructions have been given to the lawyers, and I really do think +that I had better be away during the making of the dresses and the +baking of the cake. It has come to pass by this accident of my living +at the Deanery that we have already become almost tired of each +other's company."</p> + +<p>"You might speak for yourself, Sir Francis Geraldine."</p> + +<p>"So I do. For to tell the truth, a man does get tired of this kind of +thing quicker than a woman, and a man of forty much quicker than a +woman of twenty. At any rate I'm off to-morrow."</p> + +<p>There was something in the tone of all this which thoroughly +confirmed her in her purpose. There should come an end to him of his +thraldom. This should not be, by many, the last of his visits to +Goodwood. He should never again have to complain of the trouble given +to him by her company. She sat silent, turning it all over in her +mind, and struggling to think how she might best get her mother out +of the room. She must do it instantly;—now at once. She was +perfectly resolved that he should not leave that house an engaged +man. But she did not see her direct way to the commencement of the +difficult conversation. "Mrs. Holt," said Sir Francis, "don't you +think a little absence will be best for both of us, before we begin +the perilous voyage of matrimony together?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure I don't know," said poor Mrs. Holt.</p> + +<p>"There can't be a doubt about it," continued the lover. "I have +become so stupid, that I hardly know how to put one foot before the +other, and Cecilia is so majestical that her dignity is growing to be +almost tedious."</p> + +<p>"Mamma," said Cecilia after a pause, "as Sir Francis is going +to-morrow, would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes? There +is something which I have to say to him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly, my dear," said Mrs. Holt, as she got up and left the +room.</p> + +<p>Now had come the moment, the difficult moment in which Cecilia Holt +had to remodel for herself the course of her future life. For the +last month or two she had been the affianced bride of a baronet, and +of a man of fashion. All Exeter had known her as the future Lady +Geraldine. And, more than that, she had learned to regard herself as +the owner of the man, and of his future home. Her imagination had +been active in drawing pictures for herself of the life she was to +live,—pictures which for a time had been rosy-hued. But whatever the +tints may have been, and how far the bright colours may have become +dimmed, it had been as Lady Geraldine, and not as Cecilia Holt that +she had looked in the glass which had shown to herself her future +career. Now, within the last four-and-twenty hours,—for the last +crowning purpose of her resolution was hardly of longer date,—she +had determined to alter it all. But he as yet did not know it. He +still regarded her as his affianced bride. Now had come the moment in +which the truth must be told to him.</p> + +<p>As soon as her mother left the room, she got up from her seat, as did +also her lover. He, as soon as the door was closed, at once attempted +to put his arm round the girl's waist, as was his undoubted +privilege. She with the gentlest possible motion rejected his +embrace, and contrived to stand at a little distance from him. But +she said nothing. The subject to be discussed was so difficult that +words would not come to her assistance. Then he lent her his aid. +"You do not mean that you're in a tiff because of what I said just +now. Of course it is better that we should not be together for the +few days before our marriage."</p> + +<p>"I do not think that I am in a tiff, Sir Francis. I hope I am not, +because what I have to say is too serious for ill-humour." Then she +paused. "What I have got to say is of some importance;—of very great +importance. Sir Francis Geraldine, I feel that I have to ask you to +forgive me."</p> + +<p>"What on earth is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"You may well ask. And, indeed, I do not know how to excuse myself. +Your friends will say that I am frivolous, and vain, and +discontented."</p> + +<p>"What the mischief is it all about?" he demanded with an angry voice.</p> + +<p>She knew she had not as yet told him. She could perceive that he had +not gathered from her first words any inkling of the truth; and yet +she did not know how to tell him. If it were once told she could, she +thought, defend herself. But the difficulty was to find the words by +which she could let him know what was her intention. "Sir Francis, I +fear that we have misunderstood each other."</p> + +<p>"How misunderstood? Why Sir Francis? Am I to understand that you want +to quarrel with me because I am going away? If so speak it out. I +shall go just the same."</p> + +<p>"Your going has no bearing upon my present purpose. I had made up my +mind before I had heard of your going;—only when I did hear of it it +became necessary that I should tell you at once."</p> + +<p>"But you have told me nothing. I hate mysteries, and secrets, and +scenes. There is nothing goes against the grain so much with me as +tragedy airs. If you have done anything amiss that it is necessary +that I should know let me know it at once." As he said this there +came across his brow a look of anger and of hot ill-humour, such as +she had never seen there before. The effect was to induce her to +respect him rather than to be afraid of him. It was well that a man +should have the power and the courage to show his anger.</p> + +<p>But it encouraged her to proceed with her task. She certainly was not +afraid of him personally, though she did dread what the world might +say of her, and especially what might be said by his friends. "I do +not know that I have done anything amiss of which I need tell you," +she said with quiet dignity. "It is rather that which I intend to do. +I fear, Sir Francis, that you and I have made a mistake in this."</p> + +<p>"What mistake?" he shouted. "While you beat about the bush I shall +never understand you."</p> + +<p>"In our proposed marriage."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>"I fear that I should not make you happy."</p> + +<p>"What on earth do you mean?" Then he paused a moment before he +continued, which he did as though he had discovered suddenly the +whole secret. "You have got another lover."</p> + +<p>There was something in the idea so shocking to Cecilia, so +revolting,—so vulgar in the mode of expression, that the feeling at +once gave her the strength necessary to go on with her task. She +would not condescend to answer the accusation, but at once told her +story in plain language. "I think, Sir Francis Geraldine, that you do +not feel for me the regard that would make me happy as your wife. Do +not interrupt me just at present," she said, stopping him, as some +exclamation was escaping from his lips. "Hear me to the end, and, if +you have ought to say, I will then hear you. Of my own regard for you +I will say nothing. But I think that I have been mistaken as to your +nature. In fact, I feel sure that we are neither of us that which the +other supposed. It is lamentable that we should have fallen into such +an error, but it is well that even yet we can escape from it before +it is too late. As my mind is altogether made up, I can only ask your +pardon for what I have done to you, expressing myself sure at the +same time that I am now best consulting your future happiness."</p> + +<p>During this last speech of Cecilia's, Sir Francis had sat down, while +she still stood in her old place. He had seated himself on the sofa, +assuming as it were a look of profound ease, and arranging the nails +of one hand with the fingers of the other, as though he were +completely indifferent to the words spoken to him. "Have you done +yet?" he said as soon as she was silent.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have done."</p> + +<p>"And you are sure that if I begin you will not interrupt me till I +have done?"</p> + +<p>"I think not,—if there be ought that you have to say."</p> + +<p>"Well, considering that ten minutes since I was engaged to make you +Lady Geraldine, and that I am now supposed to be absolved from any +such necessity, I presume you will think it expedient that I should +say something. I suppose that I have not been told the whole truth." +Then he stopped, as though in spite of his injunction as to her +silence he expected an answer from her. But she made none, though +there came a cloud of anger upon her face. "I suppose, I say, that +there is something of which it is not considered necessary that I +should be informed. There must be something of the kind, or you would +hardly abandon prospects which a few days since appeared to you to be +so desirable."</p> + +<p>"I have not thought it necessary to speak of your temper," she said.</p> + +<p>"Nor of your own."</p> + +<p>"Nor of my own," she added.</p> + +<p>"But there is, I take it, something beyond that. I do not think that +my temper, bad as it may be,—nor your own,—would have sufficed to +estrange you. There must be something more palpable than temper to +have occasioned it. And though you have not thought fit to tell me, +you must feel that my position justifies me in asking. Have you +another lover?"</p> + +<p>"No," she exclaimed, burning with wrath but with head so turned from +him that he should not see her.</p> + +<p>"Nor have ever had one? I am entitled to ask the question, though +perhaps I should have asked it before."</p> + +<p>"You are at any rate not entitled to ask it now. Sir Francis +Geraldine, between you and me all is over. I can only beg you to +understand most positively that all is over."</p> + +<p>"My dear Miss Holt, you need not insist upon that, as it is perfectly +understood."</p> + +<p>"Then there need be no further words. If I have done you any wrong I +ask your pardon. You have wronged me only in your thoughts. I must +take what consolation I can from the feeling that the injury will +fall chiefly upon my head and not upon yours." Then without a further +word of farewell she marched out of the room.</p> + +<p>Sir Francis, when he found himself alone, shook himself, as it were, +as he rose from the sofa, and looked about the room in amazement. It +was quite true that she was gone—gone, as far as he was concerned, +for ever. It did not occur to him for a moment that there could be +any reconciliation between them, and his first feeling undoubtedly +was one of amazed disappointment. Then, standing there in Mrs. Holt's +drawing-room, he began to bethink himself what could have been the +cause of it. Since the first week of his engagement he had begun and +had continued to tell himself what great things he was about to do +for Cecilia Holt. With her beauty, her grace, her dignity, and her +accomplishments he was quite satisfied. It was expedient that he +should marry, and he did not know that he could marry much better. +Cecilia, when her mother died, would have twenty thousand pounds, and +that in his eyes had been sufficient. But he was about to make her +Lady Geraldine, and the more that he thought of this, the more +grateful it had appeared to him that she should be to him. Then by +degrees, while he had expected from her expressions of gratitude, she +had rebelled against him! Of the meaning of this he had not been +quite conscious, but had nevertheless felt it necessary that he +should dominate her spirit. Up to the moment in which this interview +had begun he had thought that he was learning to do so. She had not +dared to ask him questions which would have been so natural, or to +demand from him services to which she was entitled. It was thus that +he had regarded her conduct. But he had never feared for a moment but +that he was on the road to success. Up to the moment at which he had +entered the room he had thought that he was progressing favourably. +His Cecilia was becoming tame in his hands, as was necessary. He had +then been altogether taken aback and surprised by her statement to +him, and could not for some moments get over his feeling of +amazement. At last he uttered a low whistle, and then walked slowly +out of the house. At the front door he found his horse, and, mounting +it, rode back into Exeter. As he did so he began to inquire of +himself whether this step which the girl had determined to take was +really a misfortune to him or the reverse. He had hardly as yet asked +himself any such question since the day on which he had first become +engaged to her. He had long thought of marrying, and one girl after +another had been rejected by him as he had passed them in review +through his thoughts. Then had come Cecilia's turn, and she had +seemed to answer the purpose. There had been about her an especial +dignity which had suited his views of matrimonial life. She was a +young woman as to whom all his friends would say that he had done +well in marrying her. But by degrees there had come upon him a +feeling of the general encumbrance of a wife. Would she not interfere +with him? Would she not wish to hinder him when he chose to lead a +bachelor's life? Newmarket for instance, and his London clubs, and +his fishing in Norway,—would she not endeavour to set her foot upon +them? Would it not be well that he should teach her that she would +not be allowed to interfere? He had therefore begun to teach +her,—and this had come of it! It had been quite unexpected, but +still he felt as though he were released from a burden.</p> + +<p>He had accused her of having had another lover. At the moment an idea +had passed through his mind that she was suddenly prompted by her +conscience to tell him something that she had hitherto concealed. +There had been some lover, probably, as to whom everyone had been +silent to him. He was a jealous man, and for a moment he had been +hurt. He would have said that his heart had been hurt. There was but +little of heart in it, for it may be doubted whether he had ever +loved her. But there was something pricked him which filled him for +the instant with serious thoughts. When he had asked the question he +wished to see her at his feet. There had come no answer, and he told +himself that he was justified in thinking the surmise to be true. He +was justified to himself, but only for the moment, for at the next +had come her declaration that all was to be over between them. The +idea of the lover became buried under the ruins which were thus made.</p> + +<p>So she intended to escape from him! But he also would escape from +her. After all, what an infinite trouble would a wife be to +him,—especially a wife of whose docility in harness he was not quite +assured. But there came upon him as he rode home an idea that the +world would say that he had been jilted. Of course he would have been +jilted, but there would be nothing in that except as the world might +speak of it. It was gall to him to have to think that the world of +Exeter should believe that Cecilia Holt had changed her mind, and had +sent him about his business. If the world of Exeter would say that he +had ill-used the girl, and had broken off the engagement for mere +fancy,—as she had done,—that would be much more endurable. He could +not say that such was the case. To so palpable a lie the +contradiction would be easy and disgraceful. But could he not so tell +the story as to leave a doubt on the minds of the people? That +question of another lover had not been contradicted. Thinking of it +again as he rode home he began to feel that the lover must be true, +and that her conduct in breaking off the engagement had been the +consequence. There had been some complication in the way of which she +had been unable to rid herself. At any rate it was quite out of the +question that he should have held himself to such an engagement, +complicated as it would have been with such a lover. There would be +some truth, therefore, in so telling the story as to leave the matter +in doubt, and in doubt he resolved that he would leave it. Before he +got back to the Deanery he was, he thought, thoroughly glad that he +should have been enabled so easily to slip his neck out of the +collar.</p> + + +<p><a name="c3" id="c3"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> +<h4>THE END OF THAT EPISODE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Cecilia during the following day told no one what had occurred, nor +on the morning of the next. Indeed she did not open her mouth on the +subject till Maude Hippesley came to her. She felt that she was doing +wrong to her mother by keeping her in the dark, but she could not +bring herself to tell it. She had, as she now declared to herself, +settled the question of her future life. To live with her +mother,—and then to live alone, must be her lot. She had been +accustomed, before the coming of Sir Francis, to speak of this as a +thing certain; but then it had not been certain, had not been +probable, even to her own mind. Of course lovers would come till the +acceptable lover should be accepted. The threats of a single life +made by pretty girls with good fortunes never go for much in this +world. Then in due time the acceptable lover had come, and had been +accepted.</p> + +<p>And to what purpose had she put him? She could not even now say of +what she accused him, having rejected him. What excuse could she +give? What answer could she allege? She was more sure than ever now +that she could not live with him as his wife. He had said words about +some former lover which were not the less painful, in that there had +been no foundation for them. There had in truth been nothing for her +to tell Sir Francis Geraldine. Out of her milk-white innocency no +confession was to be made. But what there was had all been laid bare +to him. There had been no lover,—but if there had, then there would +have been a lie told. She had said that there had been none, and he +had heard her assertion with those greedy ears which men sometimes +have for such telling. It was a comfort to him that there had been +none; and when something uncomfortable came in his way he immediately +thought that she had deceived him. She must bear with all that now. +It did not much matter, she assured herself, what he might think of +her. But for the moment she could hardly endure to think of it, much +less to talk of it. She did not know how to own to her mother that +she was simply a jilt without offering anything in excuse. The truth +must be told, but, oh, how bitter must the truth be! Even that +accusation as to the lover had not been made till after she had +resolved to reject him; and she could not bring herself to lie to her +mother by pretending that the one had caused the other.</p> + +<p>After lunch on the second day Maude Hippesley came down and found her +amongst the trees in the shrubbery. It will be remembered that Maude +was niece to Sir Francis, and was at the present time living in the +same house with him. "Cecilia," she said, "what is this that has +happened?"</p> + +<p>"He has told you then?"</p> + +<p>"What is it? He has told us all that you have quarrelled, and now he +has gone away."</p> + +<p>"Thank God for that!"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—he has gone. But he told us only just as he went. And he has +made a mystery of it,—so that I do not know how it has happened,—or +why."</p> + +<p>"Did I not tell you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—you told me something—something that made me think you mad. +But it is he that has rejected you now!"</p> + +<p>"Has he told you that?"</p> + +<p>"He has told us all so, just as he was leaving us. After his things +were packed up he told us." Cecilia stood still and looked into her +friend's face. Maude she knew could say nothing to her that was not +true. "He has made a mystery of it, but that has been the impression +he has left upon us. At any rate there has been a quarrel."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—there has been a quarrel."</p> + +<p>"And now our only business is to make it up. It is impossible that +two people who have loved each other as you have done should be +allowed to part in so absurd a manner. It is like two children who +think they are never to be friends again because of some momentary +disagreement." Maude Hippesley, who had not lived in the same town +with her lover and therefore had never quarrelled with him, was +awfully wise. "It is quite out of the question," she continued, "that +this thing should go on. I don't think it matters in the least +whether you quarrel with him or he with you. But of course you must +make it up. And as you are the woman it is only proper that you +should begin."</p> + +<p>How much had Cecilia to do before she could prove to her friend that +no such beginning was possible. In the first place there was the +falsehood, the base falsehood, which Sir Francis had told. In order +to save himself he had declared that he had rejected her. It was very +mean. At this moment its peculiar meanness made her feel doubly sure +that the man was altogether unfitted to be her husband. But she would +allow the false assertion to pass unnoticed. If he could find a +comfort in that let him have it. Perhaps upon the whole it would be +better that some such story should go forth in Exeter. It could not +be told by her because it was untrue; but for the moment she thought +that she might pass it by without notice. "There can be no fresh +beginning," she said. "We two have already come to the end of all +that is likely to take place between us. Dear Maude, pray do not +trouble me. No doubt as time goes by we shall talk of it all again. +But just at present, circumstanced as you are with him, nothing but +silence between you and me can be fitting. I hope that you and I at +any rate will never quarrel."</p> + +<p>After that she told her mother and her two other friends. Her mother +was for a week or two in despair. She endeavoured by means of the +family at the Deanery to bring about some reconciliation. The Dean, +who did not in truth like his brother-in-law and was a little afraid +of him, altogether refused to interfere in the matter. Mrs. Hippesley +was of opinion that the lovers would be sure to "come round" if left +to themselves. Maude who, though she had not liked her uncle, had +thought much of his position, and had been proud of the idea that he +should marry an Exeter girl and her own peculiar friend, was in +despair. But the Deanery collectively refused to take active steps in +the matter. Mrs. Green was of opinion that Cecilia must have behaved +badly. There had been some affair of pride in which she had declined +to give way. According to Mrs. Green's ideas a woman could hardly +yield too much to a man before marriage, so as to secure him, in +order that her time for management might come afterwards. With Miss +Altifiorla, Cecilia found for awhile more comfort; but even from this +noted hater of the other sex the comfort was not exactly of the kind +she wanted. Miss Altifiorla was of opinion that men on the whole are +bad, but seemed to think that among men this baronet was not a bad +specimen. He did not want a great deal of attention and was fairly +able to get about by himself without calling upon his future wife to +be always with him. Then he had a title and an income and a house; +and was in short one of those who are in a measure compelled to +marry. Miss Altifiorla thought it a pity that the match should be +broken off, but was quite ready to console her friend as to the +misfortune.</p> + +<p>There was one point as to which Cecilia was quite decided, and in +this Miss Altifiorla bore her out altogether. That question of +marriage was now settled once and for ever. Cecilia, much in +opposition to her friend's wishes, had tried her hand at it and had +failed. She had fallen grievously to the ground and had bruised +herself dreadfully in making the attempt. It had perhaps been +necessary, as Miss Altifiorla thought. It is not given to all to know +their own strength as it had been given to her. They had often +discussed these matters, and Miss Altifiorla had always been very +firm. So had Cecilia been firm; but then she had given way, had +broken down, had consented to regard herself as a mere woman and no +stronger than other women. She had given herself to a man in order +that she might be the mother of his children and the head servant in +his household. She had shown herself to be false for the moment to +her great principles. But Providence had intervened. It may be +surmised that Miss Altifiorla in discussing the matter with herself +did not use the word Providence. Nor was it Chance. And as the +rejection had come from the gentleman's hands,—so Miss Altifiorla +was taught to believe,—she could not boast that Cecilia had +accomplished it. But some mysterious agency had been at work which +would not permit so exceptional a young lady as Miss Holt to fall +into the common quagmire of marriage. She had escaped,—thanks to the +mysterious agency, and must be doubly, trebly, armed with resolution +lest she should stumble again. "I think," she said one day to +Cecilia, "I think that you have great cause to be thankful that he +should have repented of his bargain before it was too late."</p> + +<p>Flesh is flesh after all and human nature no stronger than human +nature. Cecilia had consented to bear in silence the idea that she +had been jilted, and had endured her mother's tender little +sympathies on the subject. But there was a difficulty to her in +suffering this direct statement from her friend. Why would not her +friend let the matter be passed by in silence? "It is well," she +said, "that we both repented."</p> + +<p>Now the subject had been much discussed in Exeter—whether Sir +Francis had jilted Miss Holt or Miss Holt Sir Francis. It had been +always present to Miss Hippesley's mind, that her friend had told her +of her intention at a time when she was quite sure that Sir Francis +had no such notion in his head. And when, on the day but one +following, she had told Cecilia of the statement which Sir Francis +had made at the Deanery, Cecilia had not contradicted it, but had +expressed her surprise. She therefore had resolved to decide the +question against her uncle, and had given rise to the party who were +on that side. But the outside world were strongly of opinion that Sir +Francis had been the first offender. It was so much the more +probable. Miss Altifiorla had always taken that side, and had spoken +everywhere of him as the great sinner. Still however there was a +doubt in her own mind, as to which she was desirous of receiving such +solution as Cecilia could give her. She was determined now to push +the question. "But," said she, "I suppose it originated with him? It +is a great thing for us to feel that you have not been to blame at +all in the matter."</p> + +<p>"I have been to blame," said Cecilia.</p> + +<p>"But how? The man comes here and proposes himself; and is accepted, +and then breaks away from his engagement without reason and without +excuse. It is a thing to be thankful for, that he should have done +so; but we have also to be thankful that the fault has not been on +our side." Miss Altifiorla had almost brought herself to believe that +the man had made love to her, and proposed to her, that she in a +moment of weakness had accepted him, and that she now had been +luckily saved by his inconstancy.</p> + +<p>"I think we will drop that part of the question," said Miss Holt, +showing by her manner that she did not choose to be cross-questioned. +"In such cases there is generally fault on both sides." Then there +was nothing further said on the subject, but Miss Altifiorla pondered +much over her friend's weakness in not being able to confess that she +had been jilted.</p> + +<p>All this had happened in the summer. During the gala days of the +projected wedding plans had been made, of course, for the honeymoon. +Sir Francis with his bride were to go here and to go there, and poor +Mrs. Holt had been fated to remain at home as though no arrangement +had been necessary for her happiness. Indeed none had been necessary. +She was quite content to remain at Exeter and expect such excitement +as might come to her from letters from Lady Geraldine. To talk to +everybody around her about Lady Geraldine would have sufficed for +her. And when all these hopes were broken up and it had been really +decided that there should be no wedding, when it became apparent that +Cecilia Holt was to remain as Cecilia Holt, still there was no autumn +tour. Cecilia had declared that in no place would life be so quiet +for her as at home. "Mamma," she had said, "let us prepare ourselves +for what is to come. You and I mean to live together happily, and our +life must be a home life!" Then she applied herself specially to the +flowers and the shrubs, and began even to look after the vegetables +in the fulness of her energy. In these days she did not see much of +her three friends. In August Maude was married and became Mrs. +Thorne. Mr. Thorne was the eldest son of a Squire from Honiton for +whom things were to be made modestly comfortable during his father's +life. Maude's coming marriage had not been counted as much during the +days of her friend's high hopes, but had risen in consideration since +the fall which had taken place. Between Miss Altifiorla and Cecilia +there had come, not a quarrel, but a coolness. The two ladies did +continue to see each other occasionally, but there was but little +between them to console misery. Miss Altifiorla had attempted to +resume her position of equality,—unreasoned and imaginary +equality,—with perhaps a slight step in advance to which in their +present circumstances she was entitled by their age. Cecilia cared +nothing for equality, but would not consent to be held to have lost +anything. Though Miss Altifiorla declared that her friend had risen +very highly in her sentiments, there was too evidently a depreciation +in her manner; and this Cecilia could not endure. Consequently the +two ladies were not, at this period, of much comfort one to the +other. With Mrs. Green matters might have been different; but Mrs. +Green too manifestly thought that Cecilia had been wrong, and still +clung to the idea that with proper management the baronet might be +made to come back again. With a lady holding such ideas as these +there could be no sympathy.</p> + +<p>In owning the truth it must be confessed that Cecilia at this period +of her life was too self-conscious. She did not think, but felt, that +the world all around her was suffused by a Holt-Geraldine aspect and +flavour. She could not walk abroad without an idea that the people +whom she saw were talking about her. She could not shut herself in +her garden without a conviction that the passers-by were saying that +the girl living there had been jilted by Sir Francis Geraldine. She +had been well aware of the greatness of the position in which she was +to have been placed; and though she had abandoned the situation +without a doubt as soon as she had learned her mistake as to the +man's character, still she felt the fall, and inwardly grieved over +it. She had not known herself at first,—how grievous would be her +isolation when she found herself alone. Such was the case with her +now, so that she fretted and made herself ill. By degrees she +confined herself more and more to the house, till her mother seeing +it, interfered. She became sick, captious, and querulous. The old +family doctor interfered and advised that she should be taken away +from Exeter. "For ever?" asked Mrs. Holt. The doctor did not say for +ever. Mrs. Holt might probably be able to let the house for a year +and go elsewhere for that period. Then there arose questions as to +all the pretty furniture, and their household goods. Cecilia herself +was most unwilling. But before Christmas came, arrangements had been +made, and the house was let, and the first of January saw Mrs. Holt +and her daughter comfortably established in a pension at Nice. Mrs. +Holt at any rate declared that she was comfortable, though Cecilia on +her mother's behalf stated it to be impossible. She herself told +herself,—though she had whispered no word on the subject to living +ears,—she herself told herself that she had been driven abroad by +the falsehood which Sir Francis had told. She could not bear to live +in Exeter as the girl that had been jilted.</p> + +<p>This is the episode in the life of Cecilia Holt which it is necessary +should be first told.</p> + + +<p><a name="c4" id="c4"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> +<h4>MR. WESTERN.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>The Holts travelled about during the whole of that year, passing the +summer in Switzerland and the autumn in the north of Italy, and found +themselves at Rome in November, with the intention of remaining there +for the winter. One place was the same to them as another, and it was +necessary that they should at any rate exist until the term had +expired for which they had let their house. Mrs. Holt had I think +enjoyed her life. She had been made more of than at home, and had +been happy amidst the excitement. But with Cecilia it had been for +many months as though all things had been made of leather and +prunello. She had not cared, or had not seemed to care, for scenery +or for cities. In that last episode of her life she had aspired to a +new career, and had at first been fairly successful. And she had +loved the man honestly for a time, and had buoyed herself up with +great intentions as to the future duties of her life. Then had come +her downfall, in which it was commonly said of her that she had been +jilted by her lover. Even when the mountains of Switzerland had been +so fine before her eyes as in truth to console her by their beauty, +she had not admitted that she was consoled. The Campanile at Florence +had filled her with that satisfaction which comes from supreme +beauty. But still when she went home to her hotel she thought more of +Sir Francis Geraldine than of the Campanile. To have been jilted +would be bad, but to have it said of her that she had been jilted +when she was conscious that it was untrue was a sore provocation. And +yet no one could say but that she had behaved well and been +instigated by good motives. She had found that her lover was ignoble, +and did not love her. And she had at once separated herself from him. +And, since that, in all her correspondence with her friends she had +quietly endured the idea which would continually crop up that she had +been jilted. She never denied it; but it was the false accusation +rather than the loss of all that her marriage had promised her which +made her feel the Matterhorn and the Campanile to be equally +ineffective. Then there gradually came to her some comfort from a +source from which she had certainly not expected it. On their travels +they had become acquainted with a Mr. Western, a silent, shy, almost +middle-aged man, whom they had sat next to at dinner for nearly a +week before they had become acquainted with him. But they had passed +on from scenery to city, and, as had been their fortune, Mr. Western +had passed on with them. Who does not know the way in which some +strange traveller becomes his friend on a second or a third meeting +in some station or hotel saloon? In this way Mrs. Holt and Cecilia +had become acquainted with Mr. Western, and on parting with him at +Venice in October had received with gratification the assurance that +he would again "turn up" in Rome.</p> + +<p>"He is a very good sort of man," said Mrs. Holt to her daughter that +night. Cecilia agreed, but with perhaps less enthusiasm than her +mother had displayed. For Mrs. Holt the assertion had been quite +enthusiastic. But Cecilia did think that Mr. Western had made himself +agreeable. He was an unmarried man, however, and there had been +something in the nature of a communication which he had made to her, +that had prevented her from being loud in his praise. Not that the +communication had been one which had in any way given offence; but it +had been unexpected, confidential, and of such a nature as to create +much thought. No doubt an intimacy had sprung up between them. But +yet it was singular that a man apparently so reticent as Mr. Western +should make such a communication. How the intimacy had grown by +degrees need not here be explained, but that it had grown to be very +close will appear from the nature of the story told.</p> + +<p>The story was one of Mr. Western's own life and was as follows. He +was a man of good but not of large fortune. He had been to Oxford and +had there distinguished himself. He had been called to the bar but +had not practised. He had gone into Parliament, but had left it, +finding that the benches of the House of Commons were only fitted for +the waste of time. He had joined scientific societies to which he +still belonged, but which he did not find to be sufficient for his +happiness. During these attempts and changes he had taken a house in +London, and having a house had thought it well to look for a wife. He +had become engaged to a certain Miss Mary Tremenhere, and by her he +had been—jilted. Since that, for twelve months he had been +travelling abroad in quest, he said, not of consolation, but of some +mitigation of his woe. Cecilia, when she heard this, whispered to him +one little question, "Do you love her?" "I thought I did," he +answered. And then the subject was dropped.</p> + +<p>It was a most singular communication for him to make. Why should he, +an elderly man as she at first took him to be, select her as the +recipient for such a tale? She took him to be an elderly man, till +she found by the accidents of conversation that he was two years +younger than Sir Francis Geraldine. Then she looked into his face and +saw that that appearance of age had come upon him from sorrow. There +was a tinge of grey through his hair, and there were settled lines +about his face, and a look of steadied thought about his mouth, which +robbed him of all youth. But when she observed his upright form, and +perceived that he was a strong stalwart man, in the very pride of +manhood as far as strength was concerned,—then she felt that she had +wronged him. Still he was one who had suffered so much as to be +entitled to be called old. She felt the impossibility of putting him +in the same category among men as that filled by Sir Francis +Geraldine. The strength of manhood was still there, but not the salt +of youth. But why should he have told her,—her who had exactly the +same story to tell back again, if only she could tell it? Once or +twice there came to her an idea that she would tell it. He had sought +for sympathy, not under the assurance of secrecy but with the full +conviction, as she felt it, that his secret would be safe. Why should +not she do the same? That there would be great comfort in doing so +she was well aware. To have some one who would sympathise with her! +Hitherto she had no one. Even her mother, who was kindness, even +obedience itself, who attended to her smallest wish, even her mother +regretted the baronet son-in-law. "And yet she would have been left +all alone," she said to herself, marvelling at the unselfish fondness +of a mother. Mr. Western would be bound to sympathise. Having called +upon her for sympathy, his must be ready. But when she had thought of +it thrice she did not do it. Were she to tell her story it would seem +as though she were repeating to him back his own. "I too have been in +love, and engaged, and have jilted a gentleman considerably my senior +in age." She would have to say that, likening herself to the girl who +had jilted him,—or else to tell the other story, the untrue story, +the story which the world believed, in order that she might be on a +par with him. This she could not do. If she told any she must tell +the truth, and the truth was not suitable to be told. Therefore she +kept her peace, and sympathised with a one-sided sympathy.</p> + +<p>In Rome they did again meet, and on this occasion they met as quite +old friends. He called upon them at their hotel and sat with them, +happier than usual in his manner, and, for him, almost light and gay +of heart. Parties were made to St. Peter's, and the Coliseum, and the +Capitol. When he left on that occasion Cecilia remarked to her mother +how much less triste he was than usual. "Men, I suppose," she said to +herself, "get over that kind of thing quicker than women."</p> + +<p>In Rome it seemed to Cecilia that Mr. Western, when alone with her, +had no other subject for conversation than the ill-treatment he had +received from Mary Tremenhere. His eagerness in coming back to the +subject quite surprised her. She herself was fascinated by it, but +yet felt it would be better were she to put a stop to it. There was +no way of doing this unless she were to take her mother from Rome. +She could not tell him that on that matter he had said enough, nor +could she warn him that so much of confidential intercourse between +them would give rise in the minds of others to erroneous ideas. Her +mother never seemed to see that there was anything peculiar in their +intercourse. And so it went on from day to day and from week to week.</p> + +<p>"You asked me once whether I loved her," he said one day. "I did; but +I am astonished now that it should have been so. She was very +lovely."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so."</p> + +<p>"The most perfect complexion that was ever seen on a lady's cheek." +Cecilia remembered that her complexion too had been praised before +this blow had fallen upon her. "The colour would come and go so +rapidly that I used to marvel what were the thoughts that drove the +blood hither and thither. There were no thoughts,—unless of her own +prettiness and her own fortunes. She accepted me as a husband because +it was necessary for her to settle in life. I was in Parliament, and +that she thought to be something. I had a house in Chester Square, +and that was something. She was promised a carriage, and that +conquered her. As the bride I had chosen for myself she became known +to many, and then she began to understand that she might have done +better with herself. I am old, and not given to many amusements. Then +came a man with a better income and with fewer years; and she did not +hesitate for a moment. When she took me aside and told me that she +had changed her mind, it was her quiescence and indifference that +disturbed me most. There was nothing of her new lover; but simply +that she did not love me. I did not stoop for a moment to a prayer. I +took her at her word, and left her. Within a week she was +acknowledged to be engaged to Captain Geraldine."</p> + +<p>The naming of the name of course struck Cecilia Holt. She remembered +to have heard something of the coming marriage by her lover's cousin, +and something, too, of the story of the girl. But it had reached her +ear in the lightest form, and had hardly remained in her memory. It +was now of no matter, as she had determined to keep her own history +to herself. Therefore she made no exclamation when the name of +Geraldine was mentioned.</p> + +<p>"How could I love her after that?" he continued, betraying the strong +passion which he felt. "I had loved a girl whose existence I had +imagined, and of whom I had seen merely the outward form, and had +known nothing of the inner self. What is it that we love?" he +continued. "Is it merely the coloured doll, soft to touch and +pleasant to kiss? Or is it some inner nature which we hope to +discover, and of which we have found the outside so attractive? I had +found no inner self which it had been possible that I could love. He +was welcome to the mere doll who was wanted simply that she should +grace his equipage. I have asked myself, Why is it that I am so +sorely driven, seeing that in truth I do not love her? I would not +have her now for all the world. I know well how providential has been +my escape. And yet I go about like a wounded animal, who can find +none to consort with him. Till I met you, and learnt to talk to you, +I was truly miserable. And why? Because I had been saved from falling +when standing on a precipice! Because the engine had not been allowed +to crush me when passing along on its iron road! Ought I not to +rejoice and be thankful rather, as I think of what I have escaped? +But in truth it is the poor weakness of human nature. People say that +I have been—jilted. What matters it to me what people say? I have +been saved, and as time goes on I shall know it and be thankful."</p> + +<p>Every word of it came home to her and gave her back her own story. +There was her own soreness, and her own salvation. There was the +remembrance of what the people in Exeter were saying of her, only +slightly relieved by the conviction that she had been preserved from +a life of unhappiness. But she had never been able to look at it +quite as he did. He knew that the better thing had happened to him; +but she, though she knew it also, was sore at heart because people +told the story, as she thought, to her discredit. There was, indeed, +this difference between them. It was said truly of him that the girl +had jilted him, but falsely of her that she had been jilted.</p> + +<p>She, however, told him nothing of her own life. There had come +moments in which she was sorely tempted. But she had allowed them to +pass by, telling herself on each occasion that this at any rate was +not the moment. She could not do it now,—or now,—or now, lest there +should seem to be some peculiar motive on her own part. And so the +matter went on till there had arisen a feeling of free confidence on +the one side, and of absolute restraint on the other. She could not +do it, she said to herself. Much as she trusted Mr. Western, deeply +as she regarded him as her friend, strongly as she wished that the +story had been told to him at some former passage of their intimacy, +the proper time had passed by, she said, and he must be left in his +ignorance.</p> + +<p>Then one day there happened that which the outside world at Rome had +long expected; and among the number Mrs. Holt. George Western +proposed to marry Cecilia Holt. Of all the world at Rome who had +watched the two together she probably was the last who thought of any +such idea. But even to her the idea must surely have come in some +shape before the proposal. He had allowed her to feel that he was +only happy in her company, and he had gradually fallen into the habit +of confiding to her in everything. He had told her of his money, and +of his future life. He had consulted her about his books, and +pictures he had bought, and even about the servants of his +establishment. She cannot but have expected it. But yet when the +moment came she was unable to give him an answer.</p> + +<p>It was not that she did not think that she liked him. She had been +surprised to find how fond she had gradually become of him;—how Sir +Francis had faded in her memory, and had become a poor washed-out +daub of a man while this other had grown into the proportions of a +hero. She did not declare to herself that she loved him, but she was +sure that she could do so. But two reasons did for a while make her +feel that she could not accept him. The one was weak as water, but +still it operated with her. Since she had been abroad she had +corresponded regularly with Miss Altifiorla, and Miss Altifiorla in +her letters had been very strong in her aversion to matrimony. Many +things had been said apparently with the intention of comforting +Cecilia, but written in truth with the view of defending herself. "I +have chosen the better side, and have been true to it without danger +of stumbling." So it was that Miss Altifiorla put it. "You, dearest +Cecilia, have had an accident, but have recovered and stand once more +upon the solid ground. Take care, oh, take care, that you do not +fall!" Cecilia did not remember that any chance of stumbling had come +in Miss Altifiorla's way; and was upon the whole disgusted by the +constancy of her friend's arguments. But still they did weigh, and +drove her to ask herself whether, in truth, an unmarried life was not +the safer for a woman. But the cause which operated the strongest +with her was the silence which she had herself maintained. There was +indeed no reason why she should not at once begin and tell her story. +But in doing so it would appear that she had been induced to do it +only by Mr. Western's offer. And she cheated herself by some vague +idea that she would be telling the secrets of another person. "Had it +been for myself only," she said to herself, "I would have done it +long since. But that which made it improper then would make it still +more improper now." And so she held her peace and told Mr. Western +nothing of the story.</p> + +<p>He came to her the day after his offer and demanded her answer. But +she was not as yet able to give it to him. She had in the meantime +told her mother, and had received from her that ready, willing, quick +assurance of her sanction which was sure to operate in a different +way than that intended. Her mother was thinking only of her material +interests,—of a comfortable house and a steady, well-to-do life's +companion. Of what more should she have thought? the reader will say. +But Cecilia had still in her head undefined, vague notions of +something which might be better than that,—of some companion who +might be better than the companions which other girls generally +choose for themselves. She dreamed of some one who should sit with +her during the long mornings and read Dante to her,—when she should +have taught herself to understand it; of some one with a hidden +nobility of character which should be all but divine. Her invectives +against matrimony had all come from a fear lest the man with the +hidden nobility should not be forthcoming. She had tried, or had +nearly tried, Sir Francis Geraldine, and had made one hideous +mistake. Was or was not this Mr. Western a man with all such hidden +nobility? If so she thought that she might love him.</p> + +<p>She required a week, and gave her whole thoughts to the object. +Should she or should she not abandon that mode of life to which she +had certainly pledged herself? In the first days of the misery +created by the Geraldine disruption she had declared that she would +never more open her ears or her heart to matrimonial projects. The +promise had only been made to Miss Altifiorla,—to Miss Altifiorla +and to herself. At the present moment she did not greatly regard Miss +Altifiorla;—but the promise made to herself and corroborated by her +assurance to another, almost overcame her. And then there was that +story which she could not now tell to Mr. Western. She could not say +to him:—"Yes, I will accept you, but you must first hear my tale;" +and then tell him the exact copy of his own to her. And yet it was +necessary that he should know. The time must come,—some day. Alas! +she did not remember that no day could be less painful,—less +disagreeable than the present. If he did not like the story now he +could tell her so, and have done with it. There could be no fault +found with her. It had hitherto been free to her to tell it or not as +she pleased. "I had not meant to have disclosed my secret, but now it +is necessary." Even had he fancied that she had "invented it" in part +and made it like to his own, no harm,—no dangerous harm would come +from that. He could but be angry and recede from his offer. But she +found that she did not wish him to recede. Her objections to +matrimony had all been cured. She told herself at the last moment +that she was not able to undergo the absurdity of such a +revelation,—and she accepted him.</p> + + +<p><a name="c5" id="c5"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> +<h4>CECILIA'S SECOND CHANCE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It became at once necessary that Mr. Western should start off for +London. That had been already explained. He would go, whether +accepted or refused. When she had named a week, he had told her that +he should only have just time to wait for her reply. She offered to +be ready in five days, but he would not hurry her. During the week +she had hardly seen him, but she was aware that he remained silent, +moody, almost sullen. She was somewhat afraid of his temper;—but yet +she had found him in other respects so open, so noble, so consistent! +"It shall be so," she said, putting her hand into his. Then his very +nature seemed to have changed. It appeared as though nothing could +restrain him in the expression of his satisfaction. Nothing could be +more quietly joyous than his manner. He was to have left Rome by a +mid-day train, but he would wait for a train at midnight in order +that he might once dine with his own wife that was to be. "You will +kill yourself with the fatigue," Cecilia said. But he laughed at her. +It was not so easy to kill him. Then he sat with her through the long +morning, telling her of the doings of his past life, and his schemes +for the life to come. He had a great book which he wanted to +write,—as to which everybody might laugh at him but she must not +laugh. He laughed at himself and his aspiration; but she promised all +her sympathy, and she told him of their house at Exeter, and of her +mother's future loneliness. He would do anything for her within his +power. Her mother should live with them if she wished it. And she +spoke of the money which was to be her own, and told him of the offer +which her mother had made as to giving up a portion of it. Of this he +would have none. And he told her how it must be settled. And he +behaved just as a lover should do,—taking upon himself to give +directions, but giving all the directions just such as she would have +them.</p> + +<p>Then he went; and there came upon her a cold, chilling feeling that +she had already been untrue to him. It was a feeling as to which she +could not speak, even to her mother. But why had not her mother +advised her and urged her to tell him everything? Her mother had said +not a word to her about it. Why did her mother treat her as though +she were one to be feared, and beyond the possibility of advice? But +to her mother she said not a word on the subject. From the moment in +which Mr. Western had first begun to pay her attention, the name of +Sir Francis had never been mentioned between the mother and daughter. +And now in all their intercourse Mrs. Holt spoke with an unclouded +serenity of their future life. It was to her as though the Geraldine +episode had been absolutely obliterated from the memory of them all. +Mr. Western to her was everything. She would not accept his +magnificent offer of a home, because she knew that an old woman in a +man's house could only be considered as in his way. She would divide +her income, and give at any rate a third to her daughter. And she did +bestow much advice as to the manner in which everything should be +done so as to tend to his happiness. His tastes should be adopted, +and his ways of life should be studied. His pursuits should be made +her pursuits, and his friends her friends. All this was very well. +Cecilia knew all that without any teaching from her mother. Her +instincts told her as much as that. But what was she to do with this +secret which loaded her bosom, but as to which she could not bring +herself even to ask her mother's advice?</p> + +<p>Then she made up her mind that she would write to her lover and +relate the whole story as to Sir Francis Geraldine. And she did write +it; but she was alarmed at finding that the story, when told, +extended itself over various sheets of paper. And the story would +take the shape of a confession,—as though she were telling her lover +of some passage in her life of which she had cause to be ashamed. She +knew that there was no ground for shame. She had done nothing which +she ought not to have done, nothing which she could not have +acknowledged to him without a blush. When the letter was completed, +she found it to be one which she could not send. It was as though she +were telling him something, on reading which he would have to decide +whether their engagement should or should not be continued. This was +not at all her purpose. Thinking of it all with a view to his +happiness, and to his honour, she did not wish him to suppose that +there could be a doubt on that subject. It was clear to her that a +letter so worded was not fit for the occasion, and she destroyed it. +Still she was minded to write to him, but for the moment she +postponed her purpose. Of course she wrote to her friends in Exeter. +Were she to be silent to them it would appear as though she were +ashamed of what she was now doing. She told Maude Hippesley,—or Mrs. +Thorne as she was now called; and she told Mrs. Green, and also Miss +Altifiorla. Immediate answers came from the three. Those from the two +married ladies were in all respects satisfactory. That from Mrs. +Thorne was quite enthusiastic in its praises of matrimony. That from +Mrs. Green was a little less warm, but was still discreetly happy. +She had no doubt in her own mind that a married life was preferable, +and that Mr. Western, though perhaps a little old, was upon the whole +a well-chosen and deserving consort for life. But the letter from +Miss Altifiorla was very different from these, and as it had some +effect perhaps in producing the circumstances which are to be told, +it shall be given at <span class="nowrap">length:—</span></p> + +<p>"<span class="smallcaps">My dear Cecilia</span>,—I am +of course expected to congratulate you, and +as far as Mr. Western's merits are concerned, I do so with my full +heart. He is possessed, I have no doubt, of all those virtues which +should adorn a husband, and is in all respects the very opposite to +Sir Francis Geraldine. You give me to understand that he is steady, +hard-working, and properly ambitious. In spite of the mistake which +you made in reference to Sir Francis Geraldine, I will not doubt but +that your judgment in respect to Mr. Western will be found correct. +If it is to be I dare say it could not be better. But must it be?" +"Of course it must," said Cecilia to herself, feeling very angry with +Miss Altifiorla for raising the question at such a time and in such a +manner. "After all the sweet converse and sweeter resolutions that +have passed between us on this matter, must all be abandoned like a +breath of summer wind, meaning nothing?" Of what infinitely bad taste +was not the woman guilty, in thus raising the question when the only +final answer to it had been already given? Cecilia felt ashamed of +herself as she thought of this, in that she had admitted the +friendship of such a friend. "A breath of summer wind!" she said, +repeating with scorn her friend's somewhat high-flown words. "I +cannot but say that, like Martha, you have chosen the worser part," +continued the letter. "The things of the world, which are in +themselves but accidents, have been for a moment all in all to you; +but knowing you as I do, I am aware how soon they will fade away, and +have no more than their proper weight. Then you will wake some day, +and feel that you have devoted yourself to the mending of his +stockings and the feeding of his babies." There was something in this +which stirred Cecilia to absolute wrath. If there were babies would +they not be her babies as well as his? Was it not the intention of +the Lord that the world should be populated? The worser part, indeed! +Then she took up the cudgels in her own mind on behalf of Martha, as +she had often done before. How would the world get on unless there +were Marthas? And was it not more than probable that a self-dubbed +Mary should fall into idle ways under the pretence that she was +filled with special inspiration? Looking at Miss Altifiorla as a +Mary, she was somewhat in love with the Marthas.</p> + +<p>"I do not doubt that Mr. Western is what he should be," the letter +went on, "but even judging him by your letter, I find that he is +autocratic and self-opinioned. It is his future life and not yours of +which he is thinking, his success and not yours, his doings and not +your doings." "How does she know?" exclaimed Cecilia. "She has only +my account of him, and not his of me." "And he is right in this," +went on the letter, "because the ways of the world allow such +privileges to men. What would a man be unless he took the place which +his personal strength has obtained for him? For women, in the +general, of course matrimony is fit. They have to earn their bread, +and think of little else. To be a man's toy and then his slave, with +due allowance for food and clothes, suffices for them. But I had +dreamed a dream that it would not suffice for you. Alas, alas! I +stand alone now in the expression of my creed. You must excuse me if +I repine, when I find myself so cruelly deserted."</p> + +<p>All this Cecilia felt to be as absurd as it was ill-timed;—and to be +redeemed, as it were, from its ill-nature by its ridiculous +philosophy. But at last there came a paragraph which admitted of no +such excuse. "What has Mr. Western said as to the story of Sir +Francis Geraldine? Of course you have told him the whole, and I +presume that he has pardoned that episode. In spite of the expression +of feelings which I have been unable to control, you must believe, +dear Cecilia, that I am as anxious as ever for your happiness, and +am,</p> + +<p class="ind10">"Your most affectionate friend,</p> + +<p class="ind15">"<span class="smallcaps">Francesca +Altifiorla</span>."<br /> </p> + + +<p>Cecilia, when she had completed the reading of the letter, believed +nothing of the kind. That last paragraph about Sir Francis had turned +all her kindly feelings into wrath, and contained one word which she +knew not how to endure. She was told that Mr. Western had "pardoned" +the Geraldine episode in her life. She had done nothing for which +pardon had been necessary. To merit pardon there must have been +misconduct; and as this woman had known all her behaviour in that +matter, what right had she to talk of pardon? In what had she +deserved pardon;—or at any rate the pardon of Mr. Western? There had +been a foolish engagement made between her and Sir Francis Geraldine, +which had been most wisely dissolved. The sin, if sin there had been, +was against Sir Francis, and certainly had never been considered as +sin by this woman who now wrote to her. Was it a sin that she had +loved before, a matter as to which Mr. Western was necessarily in +ignorance when he first came to her? But might it not come to pass +that his pardon should be required in that the story had never been +told to him? It was the sting which came from that feeling which +added fierceness to her wrath. "Of course you have told him the +whole, and I presume that he has pardoned that episode!" She had not +told Mr. Western the whole, and had thus created another episode for +which his pardon might be required. It was this that the woman had +intended to insinuate, understanding with her little sharpness, with +her poor appreciation of character, how probable it was that Cecilia +should not have told him of her previous engagement.</p> + +<p>She sat thinking of it all that night till the matter assumed new +difficulties in her mind's eyesight. And she began to question to +herself whether Mr. Western had a right to her secret,—whether the +secret did not belong to two persons, and she was bound to keep it +for the sake of the other person. She had committed a wrong, an +injury, or at any rate had inflicted a deserved punishment upon Sir +Francis; one as to which a man would naturally much dislike that it +should be noised about the world. Was she not bound to keep her +secret still a secret for his sake? She was angry with herself when +she asked the question, but still she asked it. She knew that she +owed nothing to Sir Francis Geraldine, and that she owed all to Mr. +Western. But still she asked it, because in that way could she best +strengthen herself against the telling of the story. The more she +turned the matter in her mind, the more impossible to her became the +task of telling it. At last she resolved that she would not tell it +now. She would not tell it at any rate till she again saw +him,—because Miss Altifiorla had told her that she "presumed he had +pardoned her that episode."</p> + +<p>It was arranged that they should be married at Exeter in April. Their +house there was not yet vacant, but would be lent to them for a +fortnight. After the marriage Mrs. Holt would go into lodgings, and +remain there till the house should be ready for her. But they were +both to return to Exeter together, and then there would be bustle and +confusion till the happy ceremony should have been performed. It was +arranged that she should have but two bridesmaids, but she was +determined that she would not ask Miss Altifiorla to be one of them. +A younger sister of Mrs. Green and a younger sister also of Maude +Hippesley were chosen. Miss Altifiorla, when she came to see Cecilia +on her return, expressed herself as quite satisfied. "It is best so, +dear," she said. "I was afraid that you would ask me. Of course I +should have done it, but my heart would not have been there. You can +understand it all, I know." Cecilia's wrath had become mitigated by +this time, and she answered her friend civilly. "Just so. You think I +ought to be an old maid, and therefore do not like to lend a hand at +turning me into a young wife. I have got two girls who have no +objection on that score." "You might find a hundred in Exeter," said +Miss Altifiorla proudly, "and yet I may be right in my opinions."</p> + +<p>Mr. Western was to come down to Exeter only on the day before the +marriage. The Holts had seen him as they came through London where +they slept one night, but as yet the story had not been told. Cecilia +expected, almost wished, that the story might reach him from other +quarters. It was so natural now that he should talk about the girl +whom he intended to marry, and so natural,—as Cecilia thought,—that +in doing so he should hear the name of Sir Francis Geraldine. Sir +Francis was a man well known to the world of fashion, and many men +must have heard of his intended marriage. Cecilia, though she almost +hoped, almost feared that it should be so. The figure of Mr. Western +asking with an angry voice why he had not been told did alarm her. +But he asked no such question, nor, as far as Cecilia knew, had he +heard anything of Sir Francis when the Holts passed through London.</p> + +<p>Nor did he seem to have heard it when he came down to Exeter. At any +rate he did not say a word respecting Sir Francis. He spent the last +evening with the Holts in their own house, and Cecilia felt that he +had never before made himself so happy with her, so pleasant, and so +joyous. It had been the same during their long walk together in the +afternoon. He was so full of affairs which were his own, which were +so soon to become her own, that there was not a moment for her in +which she could tell the story. There are stories for the telling of +which a peculiar atmosphere is required, and this was one of them. +She could not interrupt him in the middle of his discourse and +say:—"Oh, by-the-bye,—there is something that I have got to say to +you." To tell the story she must tune her mind to the purpose. She +must begin it in a proper tone, and be sure that he would be ready to +hearken to it as it should be heard. She felt that the telling would +be specially difficult in that it had been put off so long. But +though she had made up her mind to tell it before she had started on +her walk, the desirable moment never came. So she again put it off, +saying that it should be done late at night when her mother had gone +to her bed. The time came when he was alone with her, sitting with +his arm around her waist, telling her of all the things she should do +for him to make his life blessed;—and how he too would endeavour to +do some little things for her in order that her life might be happy. +She would not tell it then. Though little might come of it, she could +not do it. And yet from day to day the feeling had grown upon her +that it was certainly her duty to let him know that one accident in +her life. There was no disgrace in it, no cause for anger on his +part, nor even for displeasure if it had only been told him at Rome. +He could then have taken her, or left her as he pleased. Of course he +would have taken her, and the only trouble of her life would have +been spared her. What possible reason could there have been that he +should not take her? It was not any reason of that kind which had +kept her silent. Of that she was quite confident. Indeed now she +could not explain to herself why she had held her peace. It seemed to +her as though she must have been mad to have let day after day go by +at Rome and never to have mentioned to him the name of Sir Francis +Geraldine. But such, alas! had been the fact. And now the time had +come in which she found it to be impossible to tell the story. As she +went for the last time to her solitary bed she endeavoured to console +herself by thinking that he must have heard of it from other +quarters. But then again she declared that he in his nobility would +certainly not have been silent. He would have questioned her and then +have told her that all was right between them. But now as she tossed +unhappily on her pillow she told herself that all was wrong.</p> + + +<p><a name="c6" id="c6"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> +<h4>WHAT ALL HER FRIENDS SAID ABOUT IT.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>And "all went merry as a marriage bell." George Western and Cecilia +Holt were married in the cathedral by the Dean, who was thus supposed +to show his great anger at his brother-in-law's conduct. And this was +more strongly evinced by the presence of all the Hippesleys;—for all +were there to grace the ceremony except Maude, who was still absent +with her young squire, and who wrote a letter full of the warmest +affection and congratulations, which Cecilia received on that very +morning. Miss Altifiorla also came to the cathedral, with pink bows +in her bonnet, determined to show that though she were left alone in +her theory of life she did not resent the desertion. And Mrs. Green +was there, humble and sweet-tempered as ever, snubbing her husband a +little who assisted at the altar, and whispering a word into her +friend's ears to assure her that she had done the proper thing.</p> + +<p>It is hardly necessary to say that on the morning of her wedding it +was in truth impossible for Cecilia to tell the story. It had now to +be left untold, with what hope there might be for smoothing it over +in some future stage of her married life. She had done the deed now, +and had married the man with the untold secret in her heart. The sin +surely could not be of a nature to weigh so deeply on her conscience! +She endeavoured to comfort herself with that idea again and again. +How many girls are married who have been engaged to, or at least in +love with, half-a-dozen suitors before the man has come who is at +last to be their lord! But Cecilia told herself, as she endeavoured +thus to find comfort, that her nature was not such as theirs. This +thing which she had done was a sin or not a sin, according as it +might be regarded by the person who did it. It was a sin to her, a +heavy, grievous sin, and one that weighed terribly on her conscience +as she repeated the words after the Dean at the altar that morning. +There was a moment in which she almost refused to repeat them,—in +which she almost brought herself to demand that she might retire for +a time with him who was not yet her husband, and give him another +chance. Her mind entertained an exaggerated feeling of it, a feeling +which she felt to be exaggerated but which she could not restrain. In +the meantime the service went on; the irrevocable word was spoken; +and when it was done she was led away into the cathedral vestry as +sad a bride as might be.</p> + +<p>And yet nobody had seen her trouble. With a capacity for struggling, +infinitely greater than that possessed by any man, she had smiled and +looked happy beneath her bridal finery, as though no grief had +weighed heavily at her heart. And he was as jocund a bridegroom as +ever put a ring upon a lady's finger. All that gloom of his, which +had seemed to be his nature till after she had accepted him, had +vanished altogether. And he carried himself with no sheepish, +shame-faced demeanour as though half ashamed of the thing which he +had done. He seemed as proud to be a bridegroom as ever girl was to +become a bride. And in truth he was proud of her and did think that +he had chosen well. After the former troubles of his life he did feel +that he had brought himself to a happy haven at last.</p> + +<p>There was a modest breakfast at Mrs. Holt's house, from which the +guests departed quickly as soon as the bride and bridegroom had been +taken away to the railway station. But when the others were gone Miss +Altifiorla remained,—out of kindness. Mrs. Holt need make no +stranger of her, and it would be so desolate for her to be alone. So +surmised Miss Altifiorla. "I suppose," said she, when she had +fastened up the pink ribbons so that they might not be soiled by the +trifle with which she prepared to regale herself while she asked the +question, "I suppose that he knows all the story about that other +man?"</p> + +<p>"Why should he?" asked Mrs. Holt in a sharp tone that was quite +uncommon to her.</p> + +<p>"Well; I do not know much about such things, but I presume it is +common to tell a gentleman when anything of that kind has occurred."</p> + +<p>"What business has he to know? And what can it matter? Perhaps he +does know it."</p> + +<p>"But Cecilia has not told him?"</p> + +<p>"Why should she tell him? I don't think that it is a thing we need +talk about. You may be quite sure that Cecilia has done what is +proper." In saying this Mrs. Holt belied her own thoughts. Cecilia +had never said a word to her about it, nor had she dared to say a +word to her own daughter on the subject. She had been intently +anxious that her daughter should be married, and when she had seen +Mr. Western in the act of falling in love, had studiously abstained +from all subjects which might bring about a reference to Sir Francis +Geraldine. But she had felt that her daughter would make that all +straight. Her daughter was so much more wise, so much more certain to +do what was right, so much more high-minded than was she, that she +considered herself bound to leave all that to Cecilia. But as the +days went on and the hour fixed for the marriage became nearer and +nearer she had become anxious. Something seemed to tell her that a +duty had been omitted. But the moment had never come in which she had +been able to ask her daughter. And now she would not endure to be +cross-examined on the subject by Miss Altifiorla.</p> + +<p>But Miss Altifiorla was not at all afraid of Mrs. Holt, and was +determined to push the question a little further. "He ought to know, +you know. I am sure Cecilia will have thought that."</p> + +<p>"If he ought to know then he does know," said Mrs. Holt with great +certainty. "I am sure we may leave all that to Cecilia herself. If he +is satisfied with her, it does not matter much who else may be +dissatisfied."</p> + +<p>"Oh, if he is satisfied, that is enough," said Miss Altifiorla as she +took her leave. But she felt sure that the secret had not been told, +and that it ought to have been told, and she felt proud to think that +she had spotted the fault. Cecilia Holt would have done very well in +the world had she confined herself,—as she had solemnly +promised,—to those high but solitary feminine duties to which Miss +Altifiorla had devoted herself. But she had chosen to make herself +the slave of a man who,—as Miss Altifiorla expressed it to +herself,—"would turn upon her and rend her." And she, Miss +Altifiorla, had seen and did see it all. The time might come when the +wounded dove would return to her care. Of course she hoped that the +time would not come;—but it might.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you one thing," said Mrs. Green to her husband as they +walked home from the breakfast. "That girl has not yet said a word to +that man about Sir Francis Geraldine."</p> + +<p>"What makes you think that, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Think it! I know it. It was not likely that there should be much +talk about Sir Francis either in the cathedral or at the breakfast; +but one can tell from other things whether a subject has been +avoided. These are plain when little things would have been said but +are not said. There has been no allusion made to their reason for +leaving the house."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that it signifies much, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Oh; doesn't it? What would you have thought if after I had become +engaged to you you had found that a month or two before I had been +engaged to another man?"</p> + +<p>"It is more than twelve months, my dear."</p> + +<p>"No, it is not more than twelve months since first they met in Italy. +I know what I am talking about, and you need not contradict me. +You'll find that he'll learn it of a sudden, and then all the fat +will be in the fire. I know what men are." It was thus that the +gentle Mrs. Green expressed herself on the subject to her husband.</p> + +<p>At the Deanery the matter was spoken of in a different tone but still +with similar feelings. "I don't think Cecilia has ever yet said a +word to that poor man as to her engagement with Francis. I cannot +tell what has put it into my mind, but I think that it is so." It was +thus that Mrs. Hippesley spoke to the Dean.</p> + +<p>"Your brother behaved very badly;—very badly," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"That has got nothing to do with it. Mr. Western won't care a straw +whether Francis behaved well or ill. And for the matter of that I +don't think that as yet we quite know the truth of it. Nor would he +care if his wife had behaved ill to the other man, so long as she +behaved well to him. But if he has heard nothing of it and now finds +it out, he's not the man I take him to be if he don't let her hear of +it."</p> + +<p>"It's nothing to us," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; it's nothing to us. But you'll see that what I say comes +true."</p> + +<p>In this way all the world of Cecilia's friends were talking on the +matter which she had mentioned to no one. She still hoped that her +husband might have heard the story, and that he kept it buried in his +bosom. But it never occurred to her that it would become matter of +discussion among her friends at Exeter.</p> + +<p>There was one other person who also discussed it very much at his +ease. Sir Francis Geraldine among his friends in London had been +congratulated on his safe but miraculous escape. With a certain +number of men he had been wont to discuss the chances of matrimony. +Should he die, without having an heir, his title and property would +go to his cousin, Captain Geraldine, who was a man some fifteen years +younger than himself and already in possession of a large fortune. +There were many people in the world whom Sir Francis hated, but none +whom he hated so cordially as his cousin. Three or four years since +he had been ill, nearly to dying, and had declared that he never +would have recovered but for the necessity that he was under to keep +his cousin out of the baronetage. It had therefore become imperative +on him to marry in order that there might be an heir to the property. +And though he had for a few weeks been perfectly contented with his +Cecilia, there could be no doubt that he had experienced keenly the +sense of relief when she had told him that the engagement must be at +an end. Another marriage must be arranged, but there would be time +for that; and he would take care, that on this occasion he would not +put himself into the hands of one who was <i>exigeante</i> and had a will +of her own. "By Gad," he said to his particular friend, Dick Ross, "I +would almost sooner that my cousin Walter had the property than put +it and myself into the hands of such a virago."</p> + +<p>"You'll only get another," said Dick, "that will not let on, but will +turn out to be twice as bad in the washing."</p> + +<p>"That I hardly think probable. There are many things which go to the +choice of a wife, and the worst of it is that they are not compatible +one with another. A woman should be handsome; but then she is proud. +A woman should have a certain air of dignity; but when she has got it +she knows that herself, and shows it off in the wrong place. She +should be young; but if she is too young she is silly: wait a little +and she becomes strong-minded and headstrong. If she don't read +anything she becomes an ass and a bore; but if she do she despises a +man because he is not always doing the same thing. If she is a nobody +the world thinks nothing of her. If she come of high birth she thinks +a deal too much of herself. It is difficult."</p> + +<p>"I'd have nothing to do with any of them," said Dick Ross.</p> + +<p>"And let that puppy come in! He wrote to me to congratulate me on my +marriage, just when he knew it was off."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what I'd do," said Dick. "I'd marry some milk-maid and +keep her down on the property. I'd see that it was all done legally, +and I'd take the kid away when he was three or four years old."</p> + +<p>"Everybody would talk about it."</p> + +<p>"Let 'em talk," said Dick heroically. "They couldn't talk you out of +your ease or your pleasure or your money. I never could find out the +harm of people talking about you. They might say whatever they +pleased of me for five hundred a year."</p> + +<p>Then there came the news that Cecilia Holt was going to marry Mr. +Western. The tidings reached Sir Francis while the lovers were still +at Rome. Of Mr. Western Sir Francis knew something. In the first +place his cousin Walter Geraldine had taken away the girl to whom Mr. +Western had in the first instance been engaged. And then they were in +some degree neighbours, each possessing a small property in +Berkshire. Sir Francis had bought his now some years since for racing +purposes. It was adjacent to Ascot, and had been let or used by +himself during the racing week, as he had or had not been short of +money. Mr. Western's small property had come to him from his uncle. +But he had held it always in his own hands, and intended now to take +his bride there as soon as their short honeymoon trip should be over. +In this way Sir Francis had come to know something of Cecilia's +husband, and did not especially love him. "That young lady of mine +has picked up old Western on her travels." This Sir Francis said to +his friend Ross up in London. The reader however must remember that +"old Western" was in fact a younger man than Sir Francis himself.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he's welcome to her?" said Ross.</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that. Of course he is welcome in one way. She'll +make him miserable and he'll do as much for her. You may let them +alone for that."</p> + +<p>"Why should you care about it?"</p> + +<p>"Well; I don't know. A fellow has a sort of feeling about a girl when +he has been spooning on her himself. He doesn't want to think that +another fellow is to pick her up immediately."</p> + +<p>"Dog in the manger, you mean."</p> + +<p>"You may call it that if you like. You never cared for any young +woman, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, haven't I! Lots of 'em. But if I couldn't get a girl myself I +never cared who had her. What's the good of being selfish?"</p> + +<p>"What's the good of lying?" said Sir Francis, propounding a great +doctrine in sociology. "If I feel cut up what's the use of saying I +don't,—unless I want to deceive the man I'm talking to? If I feel +that I'd like a girl to be punished for her impertinence, what's the +use of my pretending to myself that I don't want it? If I wish a +person to be injured, what's the use of saying I wish them all the +good in the world,—unless there's something to be gained by my +saying it? Now I don't care to tell you lies. I am quite willing that +you should know all the truth about me. Therefore I tell you that I'm +not best pleased that this minx should have already picked up another +man."</p> + +<p>"He has the devil of a temper," said Dick Ross, wishing to make the +matter as pleasant as possible to his friend.</p> + +<p>"So your Miss Holt is married," Ross said to his friend on the day +after the ceremony.</p> + +<p>"Yes; she is married, and her troubles have now to begin. I wonder +whether she has told him the little episode of our loves."</p> + +<p>"You may be sure of that," said Dick.</p> + +<p>"I am not at all so sure of it. She may have told him when they first +became acquainted, but I cannot imagine her telling him afterwards. +He is as proud as she, and is just the man not to like it."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't much signify to you at any rate," said the indifferent +Dick.</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that," said Sir Francis. "I like the truth to be +told. It may become my duty to take care that poor Mr. Western shall +know all about it."</p> + +<p>"What a beast that fellow is for mischief!" said Dick Ross as he +walked home from his club that evening.</p> + + +<p><a name="c7" id="c7"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> +<h4>MISS ALTIFIORLA'S ARRIVAL.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Yes;—Sir Francis Geraldine was a beast for mischief! Thinking the +matter over, he resolved that Mr. Western should not be left in the +dark as to his wife's episode. And he determined that Mr. Western +would think more of the matter if it were represented to him that his +wife had been jilted, and had been jilted unmistakably before they +two had met each other on the Continent. He was right in this. +According to the usages of the world the lady would have less to say +for herself if that were the case and would have more difficulty in +saying it. Therefore the husband would be the more bound to hear it. +Sir Francis was a beast for mischief, but he knew what he was about.</p> + +<p>But so did not Mrs. Western when she allowed those opportunities to +pass by her which came to her for telling her story before her +marriage. In very truth she had had no reason for concealing it but +that his story had been so nearly the same. On this account she had +put it off, and put it off,—and then the fitting time had passed by. +When she was with him alone after their marriage she could not do +it,—without confessing her fault in that she had not done it before. +She could not bring herself to do so. Standing so high in his esteem +as she did, and conscious that he was thoroughly happy in his +appreciation of her feminine merit, she could not make him miserable +by descending from her pedestal to the telling of a story, which was +disgraceful in that it had not been told before.</p> + +<p>And there was a peculiarity of manner in him of which she became day +by day more conscious. He could be very generous for good conduct to +those dependent on him, but seemed to be one who could with +difficulty forgive an injury. He wished to have everything about him +perfect, and then life should go as soft as a summer's day. He was +almost idolatrous to her in these first days of their marriage, but +then he had found nothing out. Cecilia knowing his character asked +herself after all what there was to be found out. How often that +question must occur to the girl just married. But there was nothing. +He was pleased with her person; pleased with her wit; pleased that +money should have been offered to him, and pleased that for the +present he should have declined it. He liked her dress and her +willingness to change any portion of it at his slightest hint. He +liked her activity and power of walking, and her general adaptability +to himself. He was pleased with everything. But she had the secret at +her heart.</p> + +<p>"I wonder that you should have lived so long, and never have been in +love before," he said to her one day as they were coming home.</p> + +<p>"How do you know?" She blushed as she answered him, but it was a +matter as to which any girl might blush.</p> + +<p>"I am sure you were not. I should have heard it." And yet she was +silent. She felt at the moment that the time had come,—the only +possible time. But she let the moment pass by. Though she was ever +thinking of her secret, and ever wishing that she could tell it, +longing that it had been told, she could not bear that it should be +surprised from her in this way. "I think it nicer as it is," he added +as he left the room.</p> + +<p>Then she got up and stood alone on the floor, thinking of it all. +There she stood for ten minutes thinking of it. She would follow him +and, not throwing herself on her knees—but standing boldly before +him, tell him all. There was no disgrace in it,—to have loved that +other man. Of her own conduct she was confident before all the world. +There had been so little secrecy about it that she almost had a right +to suppose that it had been known to all men. The more she tried to +bring herself to follow him and tell him, the more she assured +herself that there should be no necessity. How ought she to have told +him, and when? At every point of his story should she have made known +to him the same point in hers? "It was exactly the same with me." "I +wouldn't have my young man because he was indifferent." "With yours +there was another lover ready. That has yet to come with me." "You +have come abroad for consolation. So have I." It would have been +impossible;—was impossible. "I think it nicer as it is," he had +said, and she could not do it.</p> + +<p>There was some security while they were travelling, and she wished +that they might travel for ever. She was happy while with him alone; +and so too was he. But for her secret she was completely happy. Let +him only be kept in the dark and he would be happy always. She +idolised him as her own. She loved him the better for thinking that +"it was nicer as it is;"—or would have done, had it been so. Why +should they go where some sudden tidings might mar his joy;—where +some sudden tidings certainly would do so sooner or later? Still they +went on and on till in May they reached his house in Berkshire,—he +with infinite joy at his heart, and she with the load upon hers.</p> + +<p>Early in May they reached Durton Lodge, in Berkshire, and there they +stayed during the summer. Mr. Western had his house in London, and +there was a question whether they would not go there for the season. +But Cecilia had begged to be taken to her house in the country, and +there she remained. Durton Lodge was little more than a cottage, but +it was very pretty and prettily situated. When the Ascot week came he +offered to take her there, but offered it with a smile which she +understood to mean that his proposal should not be accepted. Indeed +she had no wish for Ascot or for any place in which he or she must +meet their old friends. Might it not be possible if they both could +be happy at Durton that there they might remain with some minimum of +intercourse with the world? Six months had now passed by since they +had become engaged and no good-natured friend had as yet told him the +truth. Might it not be possible that the same silence should be as +yet preserved? If years could be made to run on then he would have +become used to her, and the telling of the secret would not be so +severe.</p> + +<p>But there came to her a great trouble in regard to her letters from +Exeter. Miss Altifiorla would fill hers with long statements about +Sir Francis which had no interest whatsoever, but which required to +be at once destroyed. She soon learnt in her married life that her +husband had no wish to see her letters. She would so willingly have +shown them to him, would have taken such a joy in asking for his +sympathy, such a delight in exposing Miss Altifiorla's peculiar views +of life, that she lost much by her constrained reticence. But this +necessity of destroying papers was very grievous to her. Though she +knew that he would not read the letters without her permission, still +she must destroy them. In every possible way she endeavoured to +silence her correspondent, not answering her at first; and then +giving her such answers as were certainly not affectionate. But in no +way would Miss Altifiorla be "snubbed." Then after a while she +proposed to come and stay a week at Durton Lodge. This was not to be +endured. The very thought of it filled poor Mrs. Western's heart with +despair. And yet she did not like to refuse without telling her +husband. Of Miss Altifiorla she had already made mention, and Mr. +Western had been taught to laugh at the peculiarities of the old +maid. "Pray do not have her," she said to him. "She will make you +very uncomfortable, and my life will be a burden to me."</p> + +<p>"But what can you say to her?"</p> + +<p>"No room," suggested Cecilia.</p> + +<p>"But there are two rooms."</p> + +<p>"I know there are. But is one to be driven by a strict regard for +literal truth to entertain an unwelcome friend? Miss Altifiorla +thought that I ought not to have married you, and as I thought I +ought we had some words about it."</p> + +<p>"Whom did she want you to marry?" asked Mr. Western with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Nobody. She is averse to marriage altogether."</p> + +<p>"Unless she was the advocate of some other suitor, I do not see that +I need quarrel with her. But she is your friend and not mine, and if +you choose to put her off of course you can do so. I would advise you +to find something more probable than the want of a bedroom in a house +in which one is only occupied."</p> + +<p>There was truth in this. What reason could she find? Knowing her +husband's regard to truth she did not dare to suggest any reason to +her friend more plausible than the want of a room, but still +essentially false. She was driven about thinking that she would get +her husband to take her away from home for awhile—for two or three +days. The letter remained unanswered, when her husband suggested to +her that she had better write. "Could we not go somewhere?" she +replied with a look of trouble on her brow.</p> + +<p>"Run away from home on account of Miss Altifiorla?" said he. She was +beginning to be afraid of him and knew that it was so. She did not +dare to declare to him her thoughts and was afraid at every moment +that he should read them.</p> + +<p>"Then I must just tell her that we can't have her."</p> + +<p>"That will be best,—if you have made up your mind. As far as I am +concerned she is welcome. Any friend of yours would be welcome."</p> + +<p>"Oh, George, she would bore you out of your life!"</p> + +<p>"I am not so easily bored. I am sure that any intimate friend of +yours would have something to say for herself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, plenty."</p> + +<p>"And as for her having been an advocate for single life, she had not +seen me and therefore her reasons could not have been personal. There +are a great many young women, thirty years old and upwards, who take +up the idea. They do not wish to subject themselves,—perhaps because +they have not been asked by the right person."</p> + +<p>"I don't think there have been any persons here. Not that she is bad +looking."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you think I shall fall in love with her."</p> + +<p>"I'd have her directly. But she is the last person in the world I +should think of."</p> + +<p>"I can get on very well with anyone who has an idea. There is at any +rate something to strike at. The young lady who agrees with +everything and suggests nothing, is to me the most intolerable. At +any rate you had better make up your mind at once or you'll have her +here before you know where you are."</p> + +<p>It was this which did, indeed, happen. On the day after the last +conversation Mrs. Western wrote her letter. In it she expressed her +sorrow that engagements for the present prevented her from having the +power to entertain her friend. No doubt the letter was cold and +unfriendly. As she read it over to herself she declared that she +would have been much hurt to have received such a letter from her +friend. But she declared again that under no circumstances could she +have offered herself as Miss Altifiorla had done. Nevertheless she +felt ashamed of the letter. All of which, however, became quite +unnecessary, when, in the course of the afternoon, Miss Altifiorla +appeared at Durton Lodge. She arrived with a torrent of reasons. She +had come up to London on business which admitted of no excuse. She +was sure that her friend's letter must have gone astray,—that letter +which for the last three days she had been expecting. To return from +London to Exeter without seeing her dear friend would be so unfeeling +and unnatural! She must have come to Durton Lodge or must have +returned to Exeter. In fact, she so put it as to make it appear +impossible that she should not have come.</p> + +<p>"My dear Miss Altifiorla," said Mr. Western, "I am sure that Cecilia +is delighted to see you. And as for me, you are quite welcome." But, +as a fact, there she was. There was no sending her away again;—no +getting her out of the house without a sojourn of some days. Whatever +mischief she might do might be done at once. There could be no doubt +that she would begin to talk of Sir Francis Geraldine and declare the +secret which it was now the one care of Cecilia's mind to keep away +from her husband. It mattered not that her presence there showed her +to be vulgar, impertinent, and obtrusive. There she was, and must be +dealt with as a friend, or as an enemy. Again Cecilia almost made up +her mind as to the better course. Let her go to her husband and tell +him all, and tell him also why it was that she told him now. Let her +endure his anger, and then there would be an end of it. There was +nothing else as to which she had need to dread him.</p> + +<p>But again, when she found herself with him, he was happy, and jocund, +and jested with her about her friend. She could not get him into the +humour in which it was proper that he should be told. She did not +tell him, and went down to dinner with the terrible load about her +heart. Three or four times during the evening the conversation was on +the point of turning to matters in which the name of Sir Francis +Geraldine would surely be mentioned. With infinite care, but without +showing her care, she contrived to master the subject, and to force +her friend and her husband to talk of other things. But the struggle +was very great, and she was aware that it could not be repeated. The +reader will remember, perhaps, the stern thoughts which Miss Holt had +entertained as to her friend when her friend had thought proper to +give her some idea of what her duty ought to be in regard to her +present husband. She remembered well that Miss Altifiorla had written +to her, asking whether Mr. Western had forgiven "that episode." And +her mother, too, had in writing dropped some word,—some word +intended to be only half intelligible as to the question which Miss +Altifiorla had asked after the wedding breakfast. She knew well what +had been in the woman's mind, and knew also what had been in her own! +She remembered how proudly she had disdained the advice of this woman +when it had been given to her. And yet now she must go to her and ask +for mercy. She saw no other way out of her immediate trouble. She did +not believe but that her friend would be silent when told to be +silent; but yet how painfully disgraceful to her, the bride, would be +the telling.</p> + +<p>She went up to Miss Altifiorla's room after she had gone for the +night, and found her friend getting into bed, happy with the +assistance of a strange maid. "Oh, my dear," said Miss Altifiorla, +"my hair is not half done yet; are you in a hurry for Mary?"</p> + +<p>"I will go to my own room," said Mrs. Western, "and when Mary will +tell me that you are ready I will come to you. There is something I +have to tell you." She had not been five minutes in her own room +before Mary summoned her. The "something to be told" took immediate +hold of Miss Altifiorla's imagination, and induced her to be ready +for bed with her hair, we may suppose, "half done."</p> + +<p>"Francesca," said Mrs. Western, as soon as she entered the room, "I +have a favour to ask you."</p> + +<p>"A favour?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, a favour." She had come prepared with her request down to the +very words in which it should be uttered. "I do not wish you, while +you remain here, to make any allusion to Sir Francis Geraldine." Miss +Altifiorla almost whistled as she heard the words spoken. "You +understand me, do you not? I do not wish any word to be said which +may by chance lead to the mention of Sir Francis Geraldine's name. If +you will understand that, you will be able to comply with my wishes." +Her request she made almost in the stern words of an absolute order. +There was nothing humble in her demeanour, nothing which seemed to +tell of a suppliant. And having given her command she remained quiet, +waiting for an answer.</p> + +<p>"Then this was the reason why you didn't answer me. You did not want +to see me, and therefore remained silent."</p> + +<p>"I did not want to see you. But it was not on that account that I +remained silent. I should have written to you. Indeed I have written +to you, and the letter would have gone to-day. I wrote to you putting +you off. But as you are here I have to tell you my wishes. I am sure +that you will do as I would have you."</p> + +<p>"I have to think of my duty," said Miss Altifiorla.</p> + +<p>Then there came a black frown on Mrs. Western's brow. Duty! What duty +could she have in such a matter, except to her? She suspected the +woman of a desire to make mischief. She felt confident that the woman +would do so unless repressed by the extraction from her of a promise +to the contrary. She did believe that the woman would keep her +word,—that she would feel herself bound to preserve herself from the +accusation of direct falsehood; but from her good feeling, from her +kindness, from her affection, from that feminine bond which ought to +have made her silent, she expected nothing. "Your duty, Francesca, in +this matter is to me," said Mrs. Western, assuming a wonderful +severity of manner. "You have known me many years and are bound to me +by many ties. I tell you what my wishes are. I cannot quite explain +my reasons, but I do not doubt that you will guess them."</p> + +<p>"You have kept the secret?" said Miss Altifiorla with a devilish +mixture of malice, fun, and cunning.</p> + +<p>"It does not matter what I have done. There are reasons, which made +me wish to avoid your immediate coming. At the present moment it +would interfere gravely with his happiness and with mine were he to +learn the circumstances of Sir Francis Geraldine's courtship. Of +course it is painful to me to have to say this to you. It is so +painful that to avoid it I have absolutely written to you telling you +not to come. This I have done not to avoid your coming, which would +otherwise have been a pleasure to me, but to save myself from this +great pain. Now you know it all, and know also what it is that I +expect from you."</p> + +<p>Miss Altifiorla listened to this in silence. She was seated in an +easy bedroom chair, clothed from head to foot in a pale pink +dressing-gown, from which the colour was nearly washed out; and her +hair as I have said was "half done." But in her trouble to collect +her thoughts she became quite unaware of all accessories. Her dear +friend Cecilia had put the matter to her so strongly that she did not +quite dare to refuse. But yet what a fund of gratification might +there not be in telling such a story under such circumstances to the +husband! She sat silent for a while meditating on it, till Mrs. +Western roughly forced a reply from her lips. "I desire to have your +promise," said Mrs. Western.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, of course."</p> + +<p>"You will carefully avoid all allusion to the subject."</p> + +<p>"Since you wish it, I will do so."</p> + +<p>"That is sufficient. And now good-night."</p> + +<p>"I know that I am doing wrong," said Miss Altifiorla.</p> + +<p>"You would indeed be doing wrong," said Mrs. Western, "if you were to +take upon yourself to destroy my happiness on such a matter after +having been duly warned."</p> + + +<p><a name="c8" id="c8"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> +<h4>LADY GRANT.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It is literally true that the tongue will itch with a desire to tell +a secret. Miss Altifiorla's tongue did itch. But upon the whole she +endured her suffering, and kept her promise. She did not say a word +in Mr. Western's hearing which led to Sir Francis Geraldine as a +topic of conversation. But in reward for this she exacted from Mrs. +Western an undertaking to keep her at Durton Lodge for a fortnight. +The bargain was not exactly struck in those words, but it was so made +that Mrs. Western understood how great was the price she paid, and +how valuable the article she received in return. "A fortnight!" Mr. +Western said, when his wife told him of the promise she had made. "I +thought that three days would have been too much for you."</p> + +<p>"Three hours are too much,—as interrupting our happiness. But as she +is here, and as we have been very intimate for many years, and as she +herself has named the time, I have not liked to contradict her."</p> + +<p>"So be it. She will interfere much more with you than with me, and I +suppose that the coming will not be frequently repeated."</p> + +<p>Two days after this another guest proposed to visit them. But this +was only for two nights, and her coming had in fact been expected +from a period before the marriage. Lady Grant was Mr. Western's +younger sister, and the person of whom in all the world he seemed to +think the most. Indeed he had assured his wife that next to herself +she was the nearest and the dearest to him. She was a widow, and went +but little into society. According to his account she was clever, +agreeable, and beautiful. She lived altogether in Scotland, where her +time was devoted to her children, and was now coming up to England +chiefly with the purpose of seeing her brother's wife. She was to be +at Durton Lodge now only for a couple of nights, and then to return +and remain with the understood purpose of taking them with her back +to Scotland. Of Lady Grant Cecilia had become much afraid, as +thinking it more than probable that her secret might be known. But it +had seemed that as yet Lady Grant knew nothing of it. She +corresponded frequently with her brother, and, as far as Cecilia +could tell, the subject had not yet been mentioned between them. +Could it be possible that all this time the secret was known to her +husband and to her husband's sister? If so his silence to her was +almost cruel.</p> + +<p>Up to the morning of her coming Miss Altifiorla had certainly kept +her promise. She had kept her promise though there had been twenty +little openings as to which it would have been so easy for her to +lead the way to the matter as to which her tongue longed to be +speaking. When any mention was made of baronets either married or +unmarried, of former lovers, of broken vows, or of second +engagements, Miss Altifiorla would look with a meaning glance at her +hostess. But of these glances Cecilia would apparently take no heed. +She had soon got to know that Miss Altifiorla's promise would be kept +unless she were led by some other person into an indirect breach of +it. Cecilia's life during the period was one of great agony. But +still she endured it without allowing her husband to perceive that it +was so.</p> + +<p>Now, on the coming of Lady Grant, what steps should she take? Should +she ask her friend to be silent also to this second person or should +she presume the promise to be so extended? She could not bring +herself to make a second request. The task of doing so was too +ponderous. Miss Altifiorla's manner of receiving the request made it +such a burden that she could not submit herself to it. The woman +looked at her and spoke to her in a manner which she was obliged to +endure without seeming to endure aught that was unnatural. She looked +back to her own struggles during that evening in the bedroom, and +could see the woman as she sat struggling, in her pale pink +dressing-gown, to escape from the necessity of promising. She could +not have another such scene as that. But she thought that perhaps +with one added word the promise might be made to suffice.</p> + +<p>When they were alone together Miss Altifiorla would constantly refer +to the Geraldine affair. This was to be expected and to be endured. +There would come an end to the fortnight and the woman would be gone. +"Do you think that Lady Grant knows?" she said, in the whisper that +had become usual to her on such occasions.</p> + +<p>"I am sure she knows nothing about it," said Cecilia.</p> + +<p>"How can you be sure? You do not know her and have never seen her. It +will be very odd if she has not heard."</p> + +<p>"At any rate nothing need be said to her in this house. No hint need +be made to her either by you or me."</p> + +<p>"I think she must have heard it. I happen to know that she has a +great correspondence. Laws! when you think of who Sir Francis is and +of the manner in which he lives, it is almost impossible to conceive +that a person should not have heard of it."</p> + +<p>"We need not tell her."</p> + +<p>"You are quite safe with me. I have given you my word, and that ought +to be enough. Nobody could have been more studious to avoid the +matter;—though, indeed, it has sometimes been difficult. And then +there has been my feeling of doubt whether my duty ought not to make +me divulge it." There was something in this which was peculiarly +painful to Cecilia. The duty of this woman to her husband, to him +whom she loved so truly, to him with whom it was in the very core of +her heart to have everything in common! Francesca Altifiorla to speak +of her duty to him! But even this had to be borne. "Indeed, I feel +every day that I am staying here that I am sacrificing duty to +friendship." Oh, into what trouble had she fallen without any sin of +her own,—as she told herself;—without, at least, any great sin! +When was the moment at which she ought to have told the story? She +thought that she could remember the exact moment; when he had come +back to her for her answer at the end of that week. And then she had +not told him, simply from her dislike to repeat back to him the story +which she had heard from himself!</p> + +<p>Lady Grant came, and nothing could be sweeter or more gracious than +the meeting. Miss Altifiorla was not there, and the two ladies, in +the presence of the husband and brother, received each other with +that quick intimacy and immediate loving friendship which it is given +only to women to entertain. Lady Grant was ten years the senior and a +widow, and had that air of living through the evening of her life +instead of still enjoying the morning, which is peculiar to widows +who have loved their husbands. She was very lovely, even in her +mitigated widow's weeds, with a tall figure, and pale oval face, +rather thin, but not meagre or attenuated. And Cecilia thought that +she saw in her a determination to love her,—and she on her side at +once determined that she would return Lady Grant's affection. But not +for that reason was her secret to be known. She looked on Lady Grant +as one whom she would so willingly have made her friend in all +things, but still as one whom, as to that single matter, she could +not but regard as her enemy.</p> + +<p>They sat together for a couple of hours before dinner, and then at +night there was another sitting from which Miss Altifiorla was again +banished. And there were some joking questions asked and answers +given as to Miss Altifiorla's presence. There was a something in the +manner and gait of Lady Grant which made Cecilia almost ashamed of +her Exeter friend. It was not that Miss Altifiorla was ignorant, or +unladylike, or ill-dressed; but that she knew her friend too well. +Miss Altifiorla was little and mean, whereas Cecilia was ready to +accept her sister-in-law as great and noble. Miss Altifiorla was not +therefore spoken of in the highest terms, and the mode of her coming +to Durton Lodge without an invitation was subjected to some little +ridicule.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Western when she went to her room was comforted at any rate +in thinking that Lady Grant did not know her secret. How poor must +have been her state of comfort may be judged from the fact that this +could add to it. On the following morning they met at breakfast, and +all went well. But Lady Grant could not but notice that the young +lady from Devonshire seemed to exercise an authority incommensurate +with the tone in which she had been described. The day passed by +happily enough, and Cecilia was strong in hope that Lady Grant might +take her departure without a reference to her one subject of sorrow.</p> + +<p>That night, however, her comfort, such as it was, was brought to an +end. As they were sitting together in Lady Grant's bedroom Cecilia's +ears were suddenly wounded by the mention of the name of Sir Francis +Geraldine. In her immediate agony she could hardly tell how it +occurred, but she was rapidly asked a question as to her former +engagement. In the asking of it there was nothing rough, nothing +unkind, nothing intended to wound, nothing to show a feeling that it +should not be so;—but the question had been asked. There was the +fact that Lady Grant knew the whole story.</p> + +<p>But there was the fact also that her husband did not know it, or else +that other fact which she would have given the world to know to be a +fact,—that he knew it, and had willingly held his peace respecting +it, even to his sister. If that could be so, then she could be happy; +if that could be so,—if she could know that it was so, then could +she afford to despise Miss Altifiorla and her tyranny. But though the +word had been not yet a moment uttered, she could not at first +remember how it had been said. There was simply the knowledge that +the name of Sir Francis Geraldine had been used, and that it had been +declared that she had been engaged to him. Up to this moment she had +been very brave, and very powerful, too, over herself. Up to this she +had never betrayed herself. But now her courage gave way, the colour +came to her cheeks and forehead and neck, and then passed rapidly +away,—and she betrayed herself. "Does not he know it?" asked Lady +Grant. As she said the words she put out her hand and pressed +Cecilia's in her own; and the tone of her voice was loving, and +friendly, and sisterly. Though there was reproach in it, it was not +half so bitter as that which Cecilia was constantly addressing to +herself. The reproach was in her ears and not in Lady Grant's voice. +But the words were repeated before Cecilia could answer them. "Does +not he know it?"</p> + +<p>All her hope was thus abolished. Almost from the moment of Lady +Grant's coming into the house she had taught herself to think that he +must know it. It was impossible that the two should be ignorant, and +impossible also as she thought that the sister should know it and +that he should not. But all that was now at an end. It was necessary +that she should answer her sister's question, and yet so difficult to +find words in which to do so. She attempted to speak but the word +would not come. Even the one word, "No," would not form itself on her +lips. She fell upon her knees and, burying her face in Lady Grant's +lap, thus told her secret.</p> + +<p>"He has never heard of it?" again asked Lady Grant. "Oh, my dear. +That should not have been so;—must not be so."</p> + +<p>"If I could tell you! If I could tell you!"</p> + +<p>"Tell me what? I am sure there is nothing for you to tell which you +need blush to speak."</p> + +<p>"No, no. Nothing, nothing."</p> + +<p>"Then why should he not know? Why should he not have known? Cecilia, +you will tell him to-night before he goes to his rest?"</p> + +<p>"No,—no. Not to-night. It is impossible. I must wait till that woman +has gone."</p> + +<p>"Miss Altifiorla knows it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!"</p> + +<p>"She knows, too, that he does not know it?" This question Cecilia +answered only by some sign. "I fancied that it might be so. I thought +that there was something between you which had been kept from him. +Why, why have you been,—shall I say so foolish?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Yes. Yes; foolish;—oh, yes! But it has been only that. There +is nothing, nothing that is not known to all the world. The marvel is +that he should not have known it. It was in all the newspapers. But +he never thinks of trifles such as that."</p> + +<p>"But why did you keep it from him?"</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell you? You know the story of his own engagement."</p> + +<p>"To Miss Tremenhere? Oh, yes, I know the story."</p> + +<p>"And how badly she behaved to him, receiving the attention of another +man, absolutely while she was engaged to him."</p> + +<p>"She was very pretty;—but a flighty, inconstant little girl. I felt +that George had had a great escape."</p> + +<p>"But such was the story. Well;—he told it me. He told it before he +had thought of me. We were together and had become intimate; and out +of the full heart the mouth speaks."</p> + +<p>"I can understand that he should have told it you."</p> + +<p>"He did not think of loving me then. Well;—he told me his story, but +I kept mine to myself."</p> + +<p>"That was natural,—then."</p> + +<p>"But, when he came to me with the other story and asked me to love +him, was I to give him back his own tale and tell him the same thing +of myself? I too have had a lover, and I have—jilted him, if you +please to call it so. Was I to tell him that?"</p> + +<p>"It would hardly have been true, I think."</p> + +<p>"It would have been true,—true to the letter," said Cecilia, +determined that Sir Francis Geraldine's lie should not prevail at +this moment. "I had done to Sir Francis just what the girl had done +to your brother. I was guided by other motives and had, I think, +behaved properly. Was I to tell it to him then?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"His own story, back again? I could not do it, and then, after that, +from time to time the occasions have gone by. Words have been said by +him which have made it impossible. Twenty times I have determined to +do it, and twenty times the opportunity has been lost. I was obliged +to tell this woman not to mention it in his presence."</p> + +<p>"He must know it."</p> + +<p>"I wish he did."</p> + +<p>"He is a man who will not bear to be kept in the dark on such a +question."</p> + +<p>"I know it. I have read his character and I know it."</p> + +<p>"You cannot know him as I do," said Lady Grant. "Though you are his +wife you have not been so long enough to know him; how true he is, +how affectionate, how honest; but yet how jealous! Were I to say that +he is unforgiving I should belie him. Without many thoughts he could +forgive the man who had robbed him of his fortune, or his health. But +it is hard for him to forgive that which he considers to be an +offence against his self-love."</p> + +<p>"I know it all."</p> + +<p>"The longer he is kept in the dark the deeper will be the wound. Of +such a man it is impossible to say what he suspects. He will not +think that you have loved him the less or that you are less true to +him; but there will be something that will rankle, and which he will +not endeavour to define. He is the noblest man on earth, and the most +generous—till he be offended. But then he is the most bitter."</p> + +<p>"You describe his character just as I have read it."</p> + +<p>"If it be so you must be careful that he learn this from yourself, +and not from others. If it come from you he will be angry, that it +has come so late. But his anger will pass by and he will forgive you. +But if he hears it from the world at large, if it be told of you, and +not by you, then I can understand, that his wrath should be very +great."</p> + +<p>"Why has he not heard it already?" asked Mrs. Western after a pause. +"Why has he not been like all the world who have read it in the +newspapers? It was talked of so much, that it was hardly necessary +that I should tell it myself."</p> + +<p>"You yourself have said that he does not think of trifles. Paragraphs +about the loves and marriages of other people he would never read. +You may be sure at any rate of this,—that your engagement with Sir +Francis Geraldine he has never read."</p> + +<p>"I have sometimes hoped," said Mrs. Western, "that he knew it all." +Lady Grant shook her head. "I have sometimes thought that he knew it +all, and regarded it as a matter on which nothing need be said +between us. Should I have been angry with him had he not told me of +Miss Tremenhere?"</p> + +<p>"Do you measure the one thing by the other," said Lady Grant; "a +man's desires by a woman's, a man's sense of honour by what a woman +is supposed to feel? Though a man keep such secrets deep in his bosom +through long years of married life, the woman is not supposed to be +injured. She may know, or may not know, and may hear the tale at any +period of her married life, and no harm will follow. But a man +expects to see every thought in the breast of the woman to whose love +be trusts, as though it were all written there for him in the clear +light, but written in letters which no one else shall read."</p> + +<p>"I have nothing that he may not read," said Mrs. Western.</p> + +<p>"But there is something that he has not read, something that he has +not been invited to read. Let it not remain so. Tell it to him all +even though you may have to support his anger, and for a time to pine +in the shadow of his displeasure."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Western as she went away to her own room felt some relief at any +rate in the conviction that with Lady Grant her secret would be safe. +Strong as was the bond which bound her to her brother, there would be +on her tongue no itching desire to tell the secret simply because it +was there to be told. She had not threatened, or spoken of her duty, +or boasted of her friendship, but had simply given her advice in the +strongest language which it was within her power to use. On the next +morning she took her leave, and started on her journey without +showing even by a glance that she was possessed of any secret.</p> + +<p>"Does she know?" asked Miss Altifiorla as soon as the two were in the +drawing-room together, using a kind of whisper which had now become +habitual to her.</p> + +<p>It may almost be said that Mrs. Western had come to hate her friend. +She looked forward to the time of her going as a liberation from +misery. Miss Altifiorla's intrusion at Durton Lodge was altogether +unpalatable to her. She certainly no longer loved her friend, and +knew well that her friend knew that it was so. But still she could +not risk the open enmity of one who knew her secret. And she was +bound to answer the question that was asked her. "Yes, she does know +it."</p> + +<p>"And what does she say?"</p> + +<p>"It matters not what she says. My request to you is that you should +not speak of it."</p> + +<p>"But to yourself!"</p> + +<p>"No, not to myself or to any other person here." Then she was silent; +and Miss Altifiorla, pursing up her lips, bethought herself whether +the demands made upon her friendship were not too heavy. But there +still remained five days of the visit.</p> + + +<p><a name="c9" id="c9"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> +<h4>MISS ALTIFIORLA'S DEPARTURE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>The fortnight was nearly gone, and Miss Altifiorla was to start early +on the following morning. Cecilia had resolved that she would tell +her story to her husband as soon as they were alone together, and +make a clean breast. She would tell him everything down as far as she +could, to the little feelings which had prevented her from speaking +before, to Miss Altifiorla's abominable interference, and to Lady +Grant's kind advice. She would do this as soon as Miss Altifiorla was +out of the house. But she could not quite bring herself to determine +on the words she would use. She was resolved, however, that in owning +her fault she would endeavour to disarm his wrath by special +tenderness. If he were tender;—oh, yes, then she would be tender in +return. If he took it kindly then she would worship him. All the +agony she endured should be explained to him. Of her own folly, she +would speak very severely,—if he treated it lightly. But she would +do nothing to seem to deprecate his wrath. As to all this she was +resolved. But she had not yet settled on the words with which she +would commence her narrative.</p> + +<p>The last day wore itself away very tediously. Miss Altifiorla was in +her manner more objectionable than ever. Mr. Western had evidently +disliked her though he had hardly said so. During the days he had +left the two women much together, and had remained in his study or +had wandered forth alone. In this way he had increased his wife's +feeling of anger against her visitor, and had made her look forward +to her departure with increasing impatience. But an event happened +which had at once disturbed all her plans. She was sitting in the +drawing-room with Miss Altifiorla at about five in the evening, +discussing in a most disagreeable manner the secrecy of her first +engagement. That is to say, Miss Altifiorla was persisting in the +discussion, whereas Mrs. Western was positively refusing to make it a +subject of conversation. "I think you are demanding too much from +me," said Miss Altifiorla. "I have given way, I am afraid wrongly as +to your husband. But I should not do my duty by you were I not to +insist on giving you my advice with my last breath. Let me tell it. I +shall know how to break the subject to him in a becoming manner." At +this moment the door was opened and the servant announced Sir Francis +Geraldine.</p> + +<p>The disturbance of the two women was complete. Had the dead ancestor +of either of them been ushered in they could not have received him +with more trepidation. Miss Altifiorla rose with a look of awe, Mrs. +Western with a feeling of anger that was almost dominated by fear. +But neither of them for a moment spoke a word, nor gave any sign of +making welcome the new guest. "As I am living so close to you," said +the baronet, putting on that smile which Mrs. Western remembered so +well, "I thought that I was in honour bound to come and renew our +acquaintance."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Western was utterly unable to speak. "I don't think that we knew +that you were living in the neighbourhood," said Miss Altifiorla.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; I have the prettiest, funniest, smallest little cottage in +the world just about two miles off. The Criterion it is called."</p> + +<p>"What a very odd name!" said Miss Altifiorla.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is rather odd. I won the race once and bought the place with +the money. The horse was called Scratch'em, and I couldn't call my +house Scratch'em. I have built a second cottage, so that it is not so +very small, and as it is only two miles off I hope that you and Mrs. +Western will come and see it."</p> + +<p>This was addressed exclusively to Cecilia, and made an answer of some +kind absolutely necessary. "I fear that we are going to Scotland very +shortly," she said; "and my husband is not much in the habit of +visiting."</p> + +<p>This was uncivil enough, but Sir Francis did not take it amiss. He +sat there for twenty minutes, and even made allusion to their former +intimacy at Exeter.</p> + +<p>"I am quite well aware how happily all that has ended," he said;—"at +any rate on your side of the question. You have done very well and +very wisely. And I,"—he laughed as he said this,—"have succeeded in +getting over it better than might have been expected. At any rate I +hope that there will be no ill-will. I shall do myself the honour of +asking you and Mr. Western to come and dine with me at the Criterion. +It is the little place that Lord Tomahawk had last year." Then he +departed without another word from Cecilia Western.</p> + +<p>"Now he must be told," whispered Miss Altifiorla the moment the door +was closed. "My dear, if you will think of it all round you will +perceive that this can be done by no one so well as by myself. I will +go to Mr. Western the moment he comes in, and get through it all in +half an hour."</p> + +<p>"You will do nothing of the kind," said Mrs. Western.</p> + +<p>"Let me pray you. Let me implore you. Let me beseech you."</p> + +<p>"You will do nothing of the kind. I will admit of no interference in +the matter."</p> + +<p>"Interference! You cannot call it interference."</p> + +<p>"I will not have you to speak to my husband on the subject."</p> + +<p>"But what will you do?"</p> + +<p>"Whatever I do shall be done by myself alone."</p> + +<p>"But you must tell him instantly. You cannot allow this man to come +and call and yet say nothing about it. And he would not have called +without some previous acquaintance. This you will have to describe, +and if you say that you merely knew him at Exeter, there will be in +that case an additional fib." The use of such words applied to +herself by this woman was intolerable. But she could only answer them +by an involuntary frown upon her brow. "And then," continued Miss +Altifiorla, "of course he will refer to me. He will conclude that as +you knew Sir Francis at Exeter I must have known him. I cannot tell a +fib."</p> + +<p>She could not tell a fib! And that was uttered in such a way as to +declare that Mrs. Western had been fibbing. I cannot tell a fib! "You +will leave me at any rate to mind my own business," said Cecilia in +an indignant tone as she left the room.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Western was at the hall door, and the coming of Sir Francis +had to be explained at once. That could not be left to be told when +Miss Altifiorla should have gone,—not even though she were going +to-morrow. "Sir Francis Geraldine has been here," she said almost +before he had entered the room. She was immediately aware that she +had been too sudden, and had given by her voice too great an +importance to her idea of the visit.</p> + +<p>But he was not surprised at that and did not notice it. "Sir Francis +Geraldine! A man whom I particularly do not wish to know! And what +has brought him here?"</p> + +<p>"He came to call. He is a Devonshire man, and he knew us at Exeter."</p> + +<p>"He is the Dean's brother-in-law. I remember. And when he came what +did he say? Unless you and he were very intimate I think he might as +well have remained away. There are some stories here not altogether +to his credit. I do not know much about his business, but he is not a +delectable acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"We were intimate," said Cecilia. "Maude Hippesley, his niece, was my +dearest friend." The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she +was aware that she had fibbed. Miss Altifiorla was justified. Why had +she not stopped at the assurance of her intimacy with Sir Francis, +and leave unexplained the nature of it? Every step which she took +made further steps terribly difficult!</p> + +<p>After dinner, Mr. Western, as a matter of course, brought up the +subject of Sir Francis Geraldine. "Did you know him, Miss +Altifiorla?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes!" said that lady, looking at Cecilia with peculiar eyes. +Only that Mr. Western was a man and not a woman, and among men the +least suspicious till his suspicion was aroused, he would have +discovered at once from Miss Altifiorla's manner that there was a +secret.</p> + +<p>"He seems to have lived in very good clerical society down in +Exeter,—a very different class from those with whom he has been +intimate here."</p> + +<p>"Of course he was staying at the Deanery," said Cecilia.</p> + +<p>"And the Dean, I know, is a very pearl of Church propriety. It is odd +what different colours men show at different places. Down here, where +he is well known, a great many even of the racing men fight shy of +him. But I beg your pardon if he be a particular friend of yours, +Miss Altifiorla."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no, not of mine at all. I should never have known him to +speak to but for Cecilia." Her words no doubt were true; but again +she looked as though endeavouring to tell all she could without +breaking her promise.</p> + +<p>"He is one of our Devonshire baronets," said Cecilia, "and of course +we like to stand by our own. At any rate he is going to ask us to +dinner."</p> + +<p>"We cannot dine with him."</p> + +<p>"That's as you please. I don't want to dine with him."</p> + +<p>"I look upon it as very impertinent. He knows that I should not dine +with him. There has never been any actual quarrel, but there has been +no acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"The acquaintance has been on my part," said Cecilia, who felt that +at every word she uttered she made the case worse for herself +hereafter.</p> + +<p>"When a woman marries, she has to put up with her husband's friends," +said Mr. Western gravely.</p> + +<p>"He is nothing on earth to me. I never wish to see him again as long +as I live."</p> + +<p>"It is unfortunate that he should have turned out to be so near a +neighbour," said Miss Altifiorla. Then for the moment Sir Francis +Geraldine was allowed to be forgotten.</p> + +<p>"I did not like to say it before her," he said afterwards in their +own room;—and now Cecilia was able to observe that his manner was +altogether altered,—"but to tell the truth that man behaved very +badly to me myself. I know nothing about racing, but my cousin, poor +Jack Western, did. When he died, there was some money due to him by +Sir Francis, and I, as his executor, applied for it. Sir Francis +answered that debts won by dead men were not payable. But Jack had +been alive when he won this, and it should have been paid before. I +know nothing about debts of honour as they are called, but I found +out that the money should have been paid."</p> + +<p>"What was the end of it?" asked Cecilia.</p> + +<p>"I said no more about it. The money would have come into my pocket +and I could afford to lose it. But Sir Francis must know what I think +of the transaction, and, knowing it, ought not to talk of asking me +to dinner."</p> + +<p>"But that was swindling."</p> + +<p>"For the matter of that it's all swindling as far as I can see. One +strives to get the money out of another man's pocket by some juggling +arrangement. For myself I cannot understand how a gentleman can +condescend to wish to gain another man's money. But I leave that all +alone. It is so; and when I meet a man who is on the turf as they +call it, I keep my own feelings to myself. He has his own laws of +conduct and I have mine. But here is a man who does not obey his own +laws; and puts money in his pocket by breaking them. He can do as he +pleases. It is nothing to me. But he ought not to come and call upon +my wife." In this way he talked himself into a passion; but the +passion was now against Sir Francis Geraldine and not against his +wife.</p> + +<p>On the next morning Miss Altifiorla was despatched by an early train +so that she might be able to get down to Exeter, <i>viâ</i> London, early +in the day. It behoved her to go to London on the route. She had +things to buy and people to see, and to London she went. "Good-bye, +my dear," she said, seeming to include the husband as well as the +wife in the address. "I have spent a most pleasant fortnight, and +have been most delighted to become acquainted with your husband. You +are Cecilia Holt no longer. But it would have been sad indeed not to +know him who has made you Cecilia Western." Then she put out her +hand, and getting hold of that of the gentleman squeezed it with the +warmest affection. But her farewell address made to Mrs. Western in +her own room was quite different in its tone. "Now I am going, +Cecilia," she said, "and am leaving you in the midst of terrible +dangers."</p> + +<p>"I hope not," said Cecilia.</p> + +<p>"But I am. They would have been over now and passed if you would have +allowed me to obey my reason, and to tell him the whole story of your +former love."</p> + +<p>"Why you?"</p> + +<p>"Because I am your most intimate friend. And I think I should have +told it in such a manner as to disarm his wrath."</p> + +<p>"It is out of the question. I will tell him."</p> + +<p>"Do so. Do so. But I doubt your courage. Do so this very morning. And +remember that at any rate Francesca Altifiorla has been true to her +promise."</p> + +<p>That such a promise should have been needed and should have been +boasted of with such violent vulgarity was almost more than Mrs. +Western could stand. She came down-stairs and then underwent the +additional purgatory of listening to the silver-tongued farewell. +That she, she with her high ideas of a woman's duty and a woman's +dignity, should have put herself into such a condition was a marvel +to herself. Had some one a year since told her that she should become +thus afraid of a fellow-creature and of one that she loved best in +all the world, she would have repelled him who had told her with +disdain. But so it was. How was she to tell her husband that she had +been engaged to one whom he had described to her as a gambler and a +swindler?</p> + + +<p><a name="c10" id="c10"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> +<h4>SIR FRANCIS TRAVELS WITH MISS ALTIFIORLA.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Miss Altifiorla was at the station of course before her time. It is +the privilege of unmarried ladies when they travel alone to spend a +good deal of time at stations. But as she walked up and down the +platform she had an opportunity for settling her thoughts. She was +angry with three persons—with Mrs. Western, Mr. Western, and with +herself. She was very angry with Cecilia. Had Cecilia trusted to her +properly she could have sympathised with her thoroughly in all her +troubles. She was not angry with her friend in that her friend was +afraid of her husband. Would she have reposed herself and her fears +on her friend's bosom it might have been very well. But it was +because her friend had not been afraid of her that she was wrath. +Mrs. Western had misbehaved egregiously, and had come to her in her +trouble solely because it was necessary. So far she had done +naturally. But though she had come, she had not come in any of the +spirit of humility. She had been bold as brass to her in the midst of +her cowardice towards her husband,—imperious to herself and +unbending. She had declined her advice with scorn. And yet one word +spoken by herself would have been destructive. Seeing that she had +been so treated had she not been wrong to abstain from the word?</p> + +<p>Her anger against Mr. Western was less hot in its nature but was +still constant. He had not liked her, and though he had been formally +civil, his dislike had been apparent. He was a man proud of himself, +who ought to be punished for his pride. It was quite proper that he +should learn that his wife had been engaged to the man whom he had so +violently despised. It would be no more than a fitting reverse of +fortune. Mr. Western was, she thought, no better than other men, and +ought to be made so to understand. She had not quite arranged in her +mind what she could now do in the matter, but for "dear Cecilia's" +sake she was sure that something must be done.</p> + +<p>And she was angry with herself at allowing herself to be turned out +of the house before the crisis had come. She felt that she ought to +have been present at the crisis, and that by the exercise of her own +powers she might have hurried on the crisis. In this respect she was +by no means satisfied with herself.</p> + +<p>She was walking up and down the platform of the little country +station thinking of all this when on a sudden she saw Sir Francis +Geraldine get out of a brougham. It cannot be explained why her heart +throbbed when she saw Sir Francis get out of his brougham. It was not +that she thought that she could ask his advice on the matters which +filled her mind, but there probably did come to her vague ideas of +the possibility of some joint action. At any rate she received him +when he came upon the platform with her blandest smile, and +immediately entered into conversation with him respecting the +household of the Westerns. What a stiff man he was, so learned, so +proper, and so distant! It was impossible to get on with him. No +doubt he was very good and all that. But what was their poor dear +Cecilia to do with a man so silent, and one who hated all amusements? +Before the train came up she and Sir Francis were quite on good terms +together; and as they were both going to London they got into the +same carriage.</p> + +<p>"Of course he's a prig," said Sir Francis, as they seated themselves +opposite to one another. "But then his wife is a prig too, and I do +not see why they should not suit each other."</p> + +<p>"You did not use to think her a prig, Sir Francis."</p> + +<p>"No; like other men I made a mistake and was nearly having to pay for +it. But I discovered in time,—luckily for both of us."</p> + +<p>"You know," said Miss Altifiorla, "that Cecilia Holt was my dearest +friend, and I cannot endure to hear her abused."</p> + +<p>"Abused! You do not think I wish to abuse her. I am awfully fond of +her still. But I do not see why she and Western should not get on +very well together. I suppose they've no secrets from each other," he +added after a pause. Upon this Miss Altifiorla remained silent. "They +tell each other everything I should think." Still Miss Altifiorla +said nothing. "I should imagine that she would tell him everything."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word I can't say."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she does. About her former engagement, for instance. He +knows the whole story, eh?"</p> + +<p>"I declare you put it to me in such a way that one doesn't know how +to answer you."</p> + +<p>"Different people have such different opinions about these kind of +things. Some people think that because a girl has been engaged to a +man she never ought to speak to him again when the engagement is +broken. For my part I do not see why they should not be as intimate +as any other people. She looked at me the other day as though she +thought that I ought not to put myself into the same room with her +again. I suppose she did it in obedience to him."</p> + +<p>What was Miss Altifiorla to say in answer to such a question? She did +remember her promise, and her promise was in a way binding upon her. +She wished so to keep it as to be able to boast that she had kept it. +But still she was most anxious to break it in the spirit. She did +understand that she had bound herself not to divulge aught about Mrs. +Western's secret, and that were she to do so now to Sir Francis she +would be untrue to her friend. But the provocation was strong; and +she felt that Sir Francis was a man with whom it would be pleasant to +form an alliance.</p> + +<p>"You must know," said Sir Francis.</p> + +<p>"I don't see that I need know at all. Of course Cecilia does tell me +everything; but I do not see that for that reason I am bound to tell +anyone else."</p> + +<p>"Then you do know."</p> + +<p>"Know what?"</p> + +<p>"Has she told him that she was engaged to me? Or does he not know it +without her telling him?" By this time they had become very intimate, +and were whispering backwards and forwards with each other at their +end of the carriage. All this was very pleasant to Miss Altifiorla. +She felt that she was becoming the recipient of an amount of +confidential friendship which had altogether been refused to her +during the last two weeks. Sir Francis was a baronet, and a man of +fashion, and a gentleman very well thought of in Devonshire, let Mr. +Western say what he might about his conduct. Mr. Western was +evidently a stiff stern man who did not like the amusements of other +gentlemen. Miss Altifiorla felt that she liked being the friend of a +man of fashion, and she despised Mr. Western. She threw herself back +on the seat and closed her eyes and laughed. But he pressed her with +the same question in another form. "Does he know that she was engaged +to me?"</p> + +<p>"If you will ask me, I do not think that he does."</p> + +<p>"You really mean to say that he had never heard of it before his +marriage?"</p> + +<p>"What am I to do when you press me in this way? Remember that I do +not tell you anything of my own knowledge. It is only what I think."</p> + +<p>"You just now said that she told you everything."</p> + +<p>"But perhaps she doesn't know herself."</p> + +<p>"At any rate there is a mystery about it."</p> + +<p>"I think there is, Sir Francis." After that it was not very long +before Miss Altifiorla was induced to talk with great openness of the +whole affair, and before they had reached London she had divulged to +Sir Francis the fact that Mrs. Western had as yet told her husband +nothing of her previous engagement, and lived at the present moment +in awe at the idea of having to do so. "I had no conception that +Cecilia would have been such a coward," she said, as Sir Francis was +putting her into a cab, "but such is the sad fact. She has never +mentioned your name."</p> + +<p>"And was therefore dreadfully frightened when I called."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dreadfully! But I shouldn't wonder if she has not told him all +about it now."</p> + +<p>"Already, you think." He was standing at the door of the cab, +detaining it, and thereby showing in a very pleasant manner the +importance of the interview.</p> + +<p>"Well;—I cannot say. Perhaps not yet. She had certainly not made the +communication when I left this morning, but was only waiting for my +departure to do so. So she said at least. But she is terribly afraid +of him and perhaps has not plucked up her courage. But I must be off +now."</p> + +<p>"When do you leave town?"</p> + +<p>"This afternoon. You are delaying me terribly at this moment. Don't, +Sir Francis!" This she said in a whisper because he had got hold of +her hand through the window, as though to say good-bye to her, and +did not at once let it go.</p> + +<p>"When do you go? I'll see you off by the other train. When do you go, +and from where?"</p> + +<p>"Will you though? That will be very kind. Waterloo;—at 4.30. +Remember the 4.30."</p> + +<p>"Sans adieu!" Then she kissed her hand to him and was driven off.</p> + +<p>This to her was all very pleasant. It gave an instant rose colour to +her life. She had achieved such a character down at Exeter for +maidenly reserve, and had lived so sternly, that it was hardly in her +memory that a man had squeezed her hand before. She did remember one +young clergyman who had sinned in this direction, twelve years since, +but he was now a Bishop. When she heard the other day that he had +been made a Bishop some misgivings as to her great philosophy touched +her mind. Had she done right in repudiating mankind? Would it not +have been better now to have been driving about the streets of the +episcopal city, or perhaps even those of the metropolis, in an +episcopal carriage? But, as she had then said, she had chosen her +line and must now abide by it. But the pressing of her hand by Sir +Francis had opened up new ideas to her. And they were the pleasanter +because a special arrangement had been made for their meeting once +again before they left London. As to one point she was quite +determined. Mrs. Western and her secret must be altogether discarded. +As for her promise she had not really broken it. He had been clever +enough to extract from her all that she knew without, as she thought, +any positive statement on her own part. At any rate he did know the +truth, and no concealment could any longer be of service to Cecilia. +It was evident that the way was open to her now, and that she could +tell all that she knew without any breach of confidence.</p> + +<p>Sir Francis, when he left her, was quite determined to carry his +project through. Cecilia had thrown him over with most abominable +unconcern and self-sufficiency. He had intended to honour her and +she had monstrously dishonoured him. He had endeavoured to escape +this by taking upon himself falsely the fault of having been the +first to break their engagement. But there was a doubt as to this +point, and people said that he had been jilted—much to his disgust. +He was determined to be revenged,—or, as he said to himself, "he had +made up his mind that the broad truth should be known." It certainly +would be the "broad truth" if he could make Mr. Western understand +the relations on which he, Sir Francis, had but a few months before +stood in regard to his wife. "Honesty," he said to himself, "demanded +it."</p> + +<p>Miss Altifiorla, he thought, was by no means an unpleasant young +woman with whom to have an intrigue. She had good looks of her own, +though they were thin and a little pinched. She was in truth +thirty-five years old, but she did not quite look it. She had a +certain brightness of eye when she was awakened to enthusiasm, and +she knew how to make the best of herself. She could whisper and +be—or pretend to be—secret. She had about her, at her command, a +great air of special friendship. She had not practised it much with +men as yet, but there was no reason why she should not do so with +advantage. She felt herself already quite on intimate terms with Sir +Francis; and of Sir Francis it may be said, that he was sufficiently +charmed with Miss Altifiorla to find it expedient to go and see her +off from the Waterloo Station.</p> + +<p>He found Dick Ross at his club and lunched with him. "You're just up +from the Criterion," said Dick.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I went down for the sake of renewing an old acquaintance, and I +renewed it."</p> + +<p>"You've been persecuting that unfortunate young woman."</p> + +<p>"Why a young woman should be thought unfortunate because she marries +such a pink of perfection as Mr. Western, and avoids such a +scapegrace as I am, I cannot conceive."</p> + +<p>"She's unfortunate because you mean to bully her. Why can't you leave +her alone? She has had her chance of war, and you have had yours, and +he has had his. As far as I can see you have had the best of it. She +is married to a stiff prig of a fellow, who no doubt will make her +miserable. Surely that ought to be enough for you."</p> + +<p>"Not quite," said Sir Francis. "There is nothing recommends itself to +my mind so much as even-handed justice. He played me a trick once, +and I'll play him another. She too played me a trick, and now I can +play her one. My good fortune consists in this, that I can kill the +two birds with one stone."</p> + +<p>"You mean to kill them?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do. Why on earth should I let them off? He did not let +me off. Nor did she. They think because I carry things in an easy +manner that I take them easily. I suffer as much as they do. But they +shall suffer as well as I."</p> + +<p>"The most pernicious doctrine I ever heard in my life," said Dick +Ross as he filled his mouth with cold chicken pie.</p> + +<p>"When you say pernicious, have you any idea what you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; awfully savage, and all that kind of thing. Just utter +cruelty, and a bad spirit."</p> + +<p>"Those are your ideas because you don't take the trouble to return +evil for evil. But then you never take the trouble to return good for +good. In fact, you have no idea of duty, only you don't like to +burden your conscience with doing what seems to be ill-natured. Now, +if a man does me good, I return it,—which I deem to be a great duty, +and if he does me evil, I generally return that sooner or later. +There is some idea of justice in my conduct, but there is none in +yours."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to punish them both?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; as far as it is in my power, both."</p> + +<p>"Don't," said Dick Ross, looking up with something like real sorrow +depicted on his face. But still he called for some greengage tart.</p> + +<p>"I like to get the better of my enemies," said the Baronet. "You like +fruit pie. I doubt if you'd even give up fruit pie to save this +woman."</p> + +<p>"I will," said Dick, pushing the pie away from him.</p> + +<p>"The sacrifice would be all in vain. I must write the letter to-day, +and as it has to be thought about I must begin it at once. Whatever +happens, do not let your good nature quarrel with your appetite."</p> + +<p>"He's a fiend, a perfect fiend," said Dick Ross, as he sate dawdling +over his cheese. "I wouldn't have his ill-nature for all his money." +But he turned that sentiment over in his mind, endeavouring to +ascertain what he would do if the offer of the exchange were made to +him. For Dick was very poor, and at this moment was in great want of +money. Sir Francis went into the smoking-room, and sitting there +alone with a cigar in his mouth, meditated the letter which he would +have to write. The letter should be addressed to Mr. Western, and was +one which could not be written without much forethought. He not only +must tell his story, but must give some reason more or less plausible +for the telling of it. He did not think that he could at once make +his idea of justice plain to Mr. Western. He could not put forth his +case so clearly as to make the husband understand that all was done +in fair honour and honesty. But as he thought of it, he came to the +conclusion that he did not much care what impression he might leave +on the mind of Mr. Western;—and still less what impression he might +leave on hers. He might probably succeed in creating a quarrel, and +he was of opinion that Mr. Western was a man who would not quarrel +lightly, but, when he did, would quarrel very earnestly. Having +thought it all over with great deliberation, he went up-stairs, and +in twenty minutes had his letter written. At a quarter past four he +was at the Waterloo Station to see the departure of Miss Altifiorla. +Even he could perceive that she was somewhat brighter in her attire +than when he had met her early in the morning. He could not say what +had been done, but something had been added to please his eyes. The +gloves were not the same, nor the ribbons; and he thought that he +perceived that even the bonnet had been altered. Her manner too was +changed. There was a careless ease and freedom about her which he +rather liked; and he took it in good part that Miss Altifiorla had +prepared herself for the interview, though he were to be with her but +for a few minutes, and that she should be different from the Miss +Altifiorla as she had come away from the Western breakfast table. +"Now there is one thing I want you to promise me," she said as she +gave him her hand.</p> + +<p>"Anything on earth."</p> + +<p>"Don't let Mr. Western or Cecilia know that you know about that." He +laughed and merely shook his head. "Pray don't. What's the good? +You'll only create a disturbance and misery. Poor dear Cecilia has +been uncommonly silly. But I don't think that she deserves to be +punished quite so severely."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I must differ from you there," he said, shaking his head.</p> + +<p>"Is it absolutely necessary?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely."</p> + +<p>"Poor Cecilia! How can she have been so foolish! He is of such a +singular temperament that I do not know what the effect may be. I +wish you would think better of it, Sir Francis."</p> + +<p>"And leave myself to stand in my present very uncomfortable position! +And that after such treatment as hers. I have thought it all over, +and have found myself bound in honour to inform him. And it is for +the sake of letting you know that I have come here. Perhaps you may +be called upon to say or do something in the matter."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it cannot be helped," said Miss Altifiorla with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"It cannot," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Poor dear Cecilia. She has brought it on her own head. I must get +into my train now, as we are just off. I am so much obliged to you +for coming to see me start."</p> + +<p>"We shall meet each other before long," he said, as she again kissed +her hand and took her departure. Miss Altifiorla could not but think +what a happy chance it was that prevented his marriage with Cecilia +Holt.</p> + + +<p><a name="c11" id="c11"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> +<h4>MR. WESTERN HEARS THE STORY.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It was the custom for Mr. Western to come down into the library +before breakfast, and there to receive his letters. On the morning +after Miss Altifiorla's departure he got one by which it may be said +that he was indeed astonished. It can seldom be the case that a man +shall receive a letter by which he is so absolutely lifted out of his +own world of ordinary contentment into another absolutely different. +And the world into which he was lifted was one black with +unintelligible storms and clouds. It was as though everything were +suddenly changed for him. The change was of a nature which altogether +unmanned him. Had he been ruined that would have been as nothing in +comparison. The death of no friend,—so he told himself in the first +moment of his misery,—could have so afflicted him. He read the +letter through twice and thrice, and then sat silent with it in his +hand thinking of it. There could be but one relief, but that relief +must surely be forthcoming. The letter could not be true. How to +account for its falsehood, how to explain to himself that such a +letter should have been written to him without any foundation for it, +without any basis on which such a story could be constructed, he +could not imagine to himself. But he resolved not to believe it. He +saw that were he to believe it, and to have believed it wrongly, the +offence given would be ineffable. He should never dare to look his +wife in the face again. It was at any rate infinitely safer for him +to disbelieve it. He sat there mute, immovable, without a change of +countenance, without even a frown on his brow, for a quarter of an +hour; and at the end of that time he got up and shook himself. It was +not true. Whatever might be the explanation, it could not be true. +There was some foul plot against his happiness; but whatever the +nature of the plot might be, he was sure that the story as told to +him in that letter was not true. And yet it was with a very heavy +heart that he rose and walked off to his wife's room.</p> + +<p>The letter ran as follows:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Mr. +Western</span>,—I think it is necessary that I +should allude to a former little incident in my past +life,—one that took place in the course of the last year +only,—to account for the visit which I made to your house +the other day, and which was not, I think, very well +taken. I have no reason to doubt but that you are +acquainted with all the circumstances. Indeed I look upon +it as impossible that you should not be so. But, taking +that for granted, I have to explain my own conduct.</p> + +<p>It seems but the other day that Cecilia Holt and I were +engaged to be married.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">Mr. Western, when he +came to this passage, felt for a moment as +though he had received a bullet in his heart.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">All Exeter knew of the engagement, and all Exeter +seemed to be well pleased. I was staying with my brother-in-law, +the Dean, and had found Miss Holt very intimate at the +Deanery. It is not for me now to explain the way in which +our engagement was broken through, but your wife, I do not +doubt, in telling you of the affair, will have stated that +she did not consider herself to have been ill-used. I am +quite certain that she can never have said so even to +yourself. I do not wish to go into the matter in all its +details, but I am confident that she cannot have +complained of me.</p> + +<p>Under these circumstances, when I found myself living +close to you, and to her also, I thought it better to call +and to offer such courtesies as are generally held to be +pleasant in a neighbourhood. It would, I thought, be much +pleasanter to meet in that frank way than to go on cutting +each other, especially as there was no ground for a +quarrel on either side. I have, however, learned since +that something has been taken amiss. What is it? If it be +that I was before you, that is too late to be mended. You, +at any rate, have won the prize, and ought to be +contented. You also were engaged about the same time, and +my cousin has got your young lady. It is I that am left +out in the cold, and I really do not see that you have any +reason to be angry. I have no wish to force myself upon +you, and if you do not wish to be gracious down at Ascot, +then let there be an end of it.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Francis +Geraldine</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>He arose and went slowly up-stairs to his wife's bedroom. It was just +the time when she would come down to breakfast, and as his hand was +on the lock of the door she opened it to come out. The moment she saw +him she knew that her secret had been divulged. She knew that he knew +it, and yet he had endeavoured to eradicate all show of anger from +his face, as all reality of it from his heart. He was sure,—was +sure,—that the story was an infamous falsehood! His wife, his chosen +one, his Cecilia to have been engaged, a year ago, to such a one as +Sir Francis Geraldine,—to so base, so mean a creature,—and then to +have married him without telling a word of it all! To have kept him +wilfully, carefully, in the dark, with studied premeditation so as to +be sure of effecting her own marriage before he should learn it, and +that too when he had told her everything as to himself! It certainly +could not be, and was not true!</p> + +<p>She stood still holding the door open when she saw him there with the +letter in his hand. There was an instant certainty that the blow had +come and must be borne even should it kill her. It was as though she +were already crushed by the weight of it. Her own conduct appeared to +her black with all its enormity. Though there had been so little done +by her which was really amiss, yet she felt that she had been guilty +beyond the reach of pardon. Twelve months since she could have +declared that she knew herself so well as to be sure that she could +never tremble before anyone. But all that was changed with her. Her +very nature was changed. She felt as though she were a guilty, +discovered, and disgraced criminal. She stood perfectly still, +looking him in the face, but without a word.</p> + +<p>And he! His perceptions were not quick as hers, and he still was +determined to disbelieve. "Cecilia!" he said, "I have got a letter." +And he passed on into the room. She followed him and stood with her +hand resting on the shoulder of the sofa. "I have got a letter from +Sir Francis Geraldine."</p> + +<p>"What does Sir Francis Geraldine say of me?" she replied.</p> + +<p>Had he been a man possessed of quick wit, he would have perceived now +that the letter was true. There was confession in the very tone of +her voice. But he had come there determined that it was not true, +determined at any rate to act as though it were not true; and it was +necessary that he should go through the game as he had arranged to +play it. "It is a base letter," he said. "A foul, lying letter. But +there is some plot in it of which I know nothing. You can perhaps +explain the plot."</p> + +<p>"Maybe the letter is true," she said standing there, not submissive +before him, but still utterly miserable in her guilt.</p> + +<p>"It is untrue. It cannot possibly be true. It contains a damnable +lie. He says that twelve months since you were engaged to him as his +wife. Why does he lie like that?" She stood before him quite quiet +without the change of a muscle of her face. "Do you understand the +meaning of it all?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes."</p> + +<p>"What is the meaning? Speak to me and explain it."</p> + +<p>"I was engaged to marry Sir Francis Geraldine just before I knew you. +It was broken off and then we went upon the Continent. There I met +you. Oh, George, I have loved you so well! I do love you so truly." +As she spoke she endeavoured to take his hand in hers. She made that +one effort to be tender in obedience to her conscience, but as she +made it she knew that it would be in vain.</p> + +<p>He rejected her hand, without violence indeed but still with an +assured purpose, and walked away from her to the further side of the +chamber. "It is true then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; it is true. Why should it not be true?"</p> + +<p>"God in Heaven! And I to hear about it for the first time in such a +fashion as this! He comes to see you, and because something does not +go as he would have it, he turns round and tells me his story. But +that he has quarrelled with you now, I should never have heard a +syllable." He had come up to her room determined not to believe a +word of it. And now, suddenly, there was no fault of which in his +mind he was not ready to accuse her. He had been deceived, and she +was to him a thing altogether different from that which he had +believed her.</p> + +<p>But she, too, was stung to wrath by the insinuation which his words +contained. She knew herself to be absolutely innocent in every +respect, except that of reticence to her husband. Though she was +prepared to bear the weight of the punishment to which her silence +had condemned her, yet she was sure of the purity of her own conduct. +Knowing his disposition, she did not care to make light of her great +fault, but now something was added, she hardly knew what, of which +she knew herself to be innocent. Something was hinted as to the +friendship remaining between her and this man, of which her husband, +in his pride, should not have accused her. What! Did he think that +she had willingly received her late lover as her friend in his house +and without his knowledge? If he thought that, then, indeed, must all +be over between them. "I do not know what it is that you suspect. You +had better say it out at once."</p> + +<p>"Is this letter true?" and he held the letter up in his hand.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it to be true. I do not know what it contains, but I +presume it to be true."</p> + +<p>"You can read it," and he threw the letter on the table before her.</p> + +<p>She took it up and slowly passed her eyes over the words, +endeavouring, as she did so, to come to some determination as to what +her conduct should be. The purport of the words she did not fully +comprehend, so fully was her mind occupied with thinking of the +condition of her husband's mind; but they left upon her an impression +that in the main Sir Francis Geraldine had told his story truly. +"Yes," she said, "it is true. Before I had met you I was engaged to +marry this other man. Our engagement was broken off, and then mamma +and I travelled abroad together. We there met you, and then you know +the rest."</p> + +<p>"And you thought it proper that I should be kept in the dark!" She +remained silent. She could not apologise to him after hearing the +accusation which rankled in his bosom. She could not go about to +explain that the moment fittest for an explanation had never come. +She could not endeavour even to make him understand that because her +story was so like his own, hers had not been told. She knew the +comparative insignificance of her own fault, and yet circumstances +had brought it about that she must stand oppressed with this weight +of guilt in his eyes. As he should be just or unjust, or rather +merciful or unmerciful, so must she endure or be unable to endure her +doom. "I do not understand it," he said, with affected calm. "It is +the case, then, that you have brought me into this position with +premeditated falsehood, and have wilfully deceived me as to your +previous engagement?"</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"How then?"</p> + +<p>"There has been no wilful deceit,—no cause for deceit whatsoever. +You were engaged to marry the lady who is now Mrs. Geraldine. I was +engaged to marry Sir Francis."</p> + +<p>"But I told you all."</p> + +<p>"You did."</p> + +<p>"It would have been impossible that I should have asked you to be +mine without telling you the whole story." She could not answer him. +She knew it to be true,—that he had told her and must have told her. +But for herself it had been so improbable that he had not known of +her engagement! And then there had been no opportunity,—no fitting +opportunity. She knew that she had been wrong, foolish, ill-judging; +but there had been nothing of that premeditated secrecy,—that +secrecy with a cause, of which he had hinted that she was guilty. "I +suppose that I may take it as proved that I have been altogether +mistaken?" This he said in the severest tone which he knew how to +assume.</p> + +<p>"How mistaken?"</p> + +<p>"I have believed you to be sweet, and pure, and innocent, and +true;—one in whom my spirit might refresh itself as a man bathes his +heated limbs in the cool water. You were to have been to me the joy +of my life,—my great treasure kept at home, open to no eyes but my +own; a thing perfect in beauty, to think of when absent and to be +conscious of when present, without even the need of expression. 'Let +the wind come and the storm,' I said to myself, 'I cannot be unhappy, +because my wife is my own.' There is an external grace about you +which was to my thinking only the culture of the woman within."</p> + +<p>"Well;—well."</p> + +<p>"It was a dream. I had better have married that little girl. She was +silly, and soon loved some one better. But she did not deceive me."</p> + +<p>"And I,—have I deceived you?"</p> + +<p>He paused before he answered her, and then spoke as though with much +thought, "Yes," he said; "yes."</p> + +<p>"Where? How?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. I cannot pretend even to guess. I shall probably +never know. I shall not strive to know. But I do know that you have +deceived me. There has been, nay, there is, a secret between you and +one whom I regard as among the basest of men, of which I have been +kept purposely in ignorance."</p> + +<p>"There is no such secret."</p> + +<p>"You were engaged to be his wife. That at any rate has been kept from +me. He has been here as your friend, and when he came,—into my +house,—the purport of his visit was kept from me. He asked for +something, which was refused, and consequently he has written to me. +For what did he ask?"</p> + +<p>"Ask! For nothing! What was there for him to ask?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know. I cannot even pretend to guess. As I read his letter +there must have been something. But it does not matter. While you +have seemed to me to be one thing, you have been another. You have +been acting a part from the first moment in which we met, and have +kept it up all through with admirable consistency. You are not that +sweetly innocent creature which I have believed you to be."</p> + +<p>She knew that she was all that he had fancied her, but she could not +say so. She had understood him thoroughly when he had told her that +she had been to him the cool water in which the heated man might +bathe his limbs; that she was the treasure to be kept at home. Even +in her misery, something of delight had come to her senses as she +heard him say that. The position described to her had been exactly +that which it had been her ambition to fill. She knew that in spite +of all that had come and gone she was still fit to fill it. There had +been nothing,—not a thought to mar her innocence, her purity, her +woman's tenderness. She was all his, and he was certain to know every +thought of her mind and every throb of her heart. She did believe +that if he could read them all, he would be perfectly satisfied. But +she could not tell him that it was so. Words so spoken will be the +sweetest that can fall into a man's ear,—if they be believed. But +let there come but the shadow of a doubt over the man's mind, let him +question the sincerity of a tone, and the words will become untrue, +mawkish and distasteful. A thing perfect in beauty! How was she to +say that she would be that to him? And yet, understanding her error +as she had done with a full intelligence, she could have sworn that +it should be so. The beauty he had spoken of was not simply the sheen +of her loveliness, nor the grace of her form. It was the entirety of +her feminine attraction, including the purity of her soul, which was +in truth still there in all its perfection. But she could not tell +him that he was mistaken in doubting her. Now he had told her that +she was not that innocent creature which he had believed her to be. +What was she to do? How was she to restore herself to his favour? But +through it all there was present to her an idea that she would not +humble herself too far. To the extent of the sin which she had +committed she would humble herself if she knew how to do that without +going beyond it. But further than that in justice both to him and to +herself she would not go. "If you have condemned me," she said, +"there must be an end of it,—for the present."</p> + +<p>"Condemned you! Do you not condemn yourself? Have you attempted any +word of excuse? Have you given any reason why I should have been kept +in the dark? Your friend Miss Altifiorla knew it all I presume?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, she knew it all."</p> + +<p>"And you would not have had her here if you could have avoided it +lest she should tell me?"</p> + +<p>"That is true. I wished to be the first to tell you myself."</p> + +<p>"And yet you had never whispered a word of it. Miss Altifiorla and +Sir Francis it seems are friends." Cecilia only shook her head. "I +heard yesterday at the station that they had gone to London together. +I presume they are friends."</p> + +<p>Quickly the idea passed through Mrs. Western's mind that Miss +Altifiorla had been untrue to her. She had kept her word to the +letter in not having told the secret to her husband but she had +discussed the whole matter with Sir Francis, and the letter which Sir +Francis had written was the result. "I do not know," she said. "If +they be more to each other than chance acquaintance I do not know it. +From week to week and from day to day before our marriage the thing +went on and the opportunity never came. Something would always fall +from you which made me afraid to speak at that moment. Then we were +married, and I found how wrong I had been. I still resolved to tell +you, but put it off like a coward from day to day. Your sister had +heard of my first engagement."</p> + +<p>"Did Bertha know it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and like myself she was surprised that you should be so +ignorant."</p> + +<p>"She might well be surprised."</p> + +<p>"Then I resolved to tell you. I would not do it till that other woman +had left the house. I would not have her by to see your anger."</p> + +<p>"And now this is the way in which the history of your former life has +reached my ears!" As he said this he held out in his hand the fatal +letter. "This is the manner in which you have left me to be informed +of a subject so interesting! I first hear from Sir Francis Geraldine +that he and you a twelvemonth since were engaged together as man and +wife." Here she stood quite silent. She did not care to tell him that +it was more than twelve months since. "That you think to be +becoming."</p> + +<p>"I do not think so."</p> + +<p>"That you feel to be compatible with my happiness!" Here, again, +there was a pause, during which she looked full into his face. "Such +is not my idea. My happiness is wrecked. It is gone." Here he made a +motion with his hand, as though to show that all his bliss had flown +away from him.</p> + +<p>"Oh, George, if you love me, do not speak like that!"</p> + +<p>"Love you! Yes I love you. I do not suppose that love can be made to +go at once, as I find that esteem may do, and respect, and +veneration."</p> + +<p>"Oh, George, those are hard words!"</p> + +<p>"Is it not so? This morning you were to me of all God's creatures the +brightest and the best. When I entered your room just now it was so +that I regarded you. Can you now be the brightest and the best? Has +not all that romance been changed at a moment's notice? But, alas! +love does not go after the same fashion." Then he turned shortly +round and left the room.</p> + +<p>She remained confounded and awe-stricken. There had been that about +him which seemed to declare a settled purpose—as though he had +intended to leave her for ever. She sat perfectly still, thinking of +it, thinking of the injustice of the sentence that had been +pronounced upon her. Though she had deserved much, she had not +deserved this. Though she had expected punishment, she had not +expected punishment so severe. In about twenty minutes her maid came +up to her, and with a grave face asked whether she would wish that +breakfast should be sent to her in her own room. Mr. Western had sent +to ask the question. "Yes," said she,—"if he pleases." There could +be no good in attempting to conceal from the servants a misery so +deep and so lasting as this.</p> + + +<p><a name="c12" id="c12"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3> +<h4>MR. WESTERN'S DECISION.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>What should she do with herself? Her breakfast was brought to her. At +noon she was told that Mr. Western had gone out for the day and would +not return till the evening. She was asked whether she would have her +pony carriage, and, on refusing it, was persuaded by her maid to walk +in the grounds. "I think I will go out," she said, and went and +walked for an hour. Her maid had been peculiarly her own and had come +to her from Exeter; but she would not talk to her maid about her +quarrel with her husband, though she was sure that the girl knew of +the quarrel. Those messages had certainly come direct from her +husband, and could not, she thought, have been sent without some +explanation of the facts. She could see on the faces of all the +household that everyone knew that there was a quarrel. Twenty times +during the day would she have had her husband's name on her tongue +had there been no quarrel. It had been with her as though she had had +a pride in declaring herself to be his wife. But now she was silent +respecting him altogether. She could not bring herself to ask the +gardener whether Mr. Western wished this thing or the other. The +answer had always been that the master wished the paths and the +shrubs and the flowers to be just as she wished them. But now not a +word was spoken. For an hour she walked among the paths, and then +returned to her own room. Would she have her dinner in the +dining-room? If so, the master would have his in the library. Then +she could restrain herself no longer, but burst into tears. No; she +would have no dinner. Let them bring her a cup of tea in her own +room.</p> + +<p>There she sat thinking of her condition, wondering from hour to hour +what was to be the end of it. From hour to hour she sat, and can +hardly have been said to think. She lost herself in pondering first +over her own folly and then upon his gross injustice. She could not +but marvel at her own folly. She had in truth known from the first +moment in which she had resolved to accept his offer, that it was her +duty to tell him the story of her adventure with Sir Francis +Geraldine. It should have been told indeed before she had accepted +his offer, and she could not now forgive herself in that she had been +silent. "You must know my story," she should have said, "before there +can be a word more spoken between us." And then with a clear brow and +without a tremor in her voice she could have told it. But she had +allowed herself to be silent, simply because he had told the same +story, and then the moment had never come. She could not forgive +herself. She could never entirely forgive herself, even though the +day should come in which he might pardon her.</p> + +<p>But would he ever pardon her? Then her mind would fly away to the +injustice of his condemnation. He had spoken to her darkly, as though +he had intended to accuse her of some secret understanding with Sir +Francis. He had believed her to be guilty of some underhand plot +against his happiness, carried on with the man to whom she had been +engaged! Of what was it that he had imagined her to be guilty? What +was the plot of which in his heart he accused her? Then her +imagination looked out and seemed to tell her that there could be but +one. Her husband suspected her of having married him while her heart +was still the property of that other man! And as she thought of this, +indignation for the time almost choked her grief. Could it be +possible that he, to whom she had given everything with such utter +unreserve, whom she had made the god of her idolatry, to whom she had +been exactly that which he had known so well how to describe,—could +it be that he should have had every thought concerning her changed in +a moment, and that from believing her to be all pure and all +innocent, he should have come to regard her as a thing so vile as +that? She almost tore her hair in her agony as she said that it must +be so. He had told her that his respect, his esteem, and his +veneration, had all passed away. She could never consent to live with +him trusting solely to his love without esteem.</p> + +<p>But as the evening passed away and the night came, and as the +duration of the long hours of the day seemed to grow upon her, and as +no tidings came to her from her lord, she began to tell herself that +it was unbecoming that she should remain without knowing her fate. +The whole length of the tedious day had passed since he had left her +and had condemned her to breakfast in solitude. Then she accused +herself of having been hard with him during that interview, of having +failed to submit herself in repentance, and she told herself that if +she could see him once more, she might still whisper to him the truth +and soften his wrath. But something she must do. She had dismissed +her maid for the last time, and sat miserably in her room till +midnight. But still she could not go to bed till she had made some +effort. She would at any rate write to him one word. She got up +therefore and seated herself at the table with pen and ink before +her. She would write the whole story, she thought, simply the whole +story, and would send it to him, leaving it to him to believe or to +disbelieve it as he pleased. But as she bent over the table she felt +that she could not write such a letter as that without devoting an +entire day to it. Then she rapidly scrawled a few +<span class="nowrap">words:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest +George</span>,—Come to me and let me tell you +everything.—Your own +<span class="smallcaps">Cecilia</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Then she addressed it to him and put it under her pillow that she +might send it to him as soon as she should wake in the morning. +Having done so she got into her bed and wept herself asleep.</p> + +<p>When the girl came into the room in the morning she at once asked +after her husband. "Is Mr. Western up yet?" The maid informed her +with an air of grave distress that Mr. Western had risen early and +had been driven away from the house to catch a morning train. More +than that the girl could not say. But she believed that a letter had +been left on the library table. She had heard John say that there was +such a letter. But John had gone with his master to the station. Then +she sent down for the letter, and within a few minutes held it in her +hand.</p> + +<p>We will now go back to Mr. Western. He, as soon as he had left his +wife's room in the morning went down-stairs, and began to consider +within himself what was the cause of this evil thing which had been +done to him. A very evil thing had been done. He did feel that the +absolute happiness which had been his for the last few days had +perished and gone from him. He was a man undemonstrative, and silent +in expressing his own feelings, but one who revelled inwardly in his +own feelings of contentment when he was content. His wife had been to +him all that he had dreamt that a woman should be. She had filled up +his cup with infinite bliss, though he had never told even to her how +full his cup had been. But in everything he had striven to gratify +her, and had been altogether successful. To go on from day to day +with his books, with his garden, with his exercise, and above all +with his wife, had been enough to secure absolute happiness. He had +suspected no misfortune, and had anticipated no drawback. Then on a +sudden there had come this damnable letter, which had made him +wretched for the time, even though he were sure that it was not true. +But he had known that it was only for the time, for he had been sure +that it was untrue. Then the blow had fallen, and all his contentment +was banished. There was some terrible mystery,—some mystery of which +he could not gauge the depth. Though he was gracious and confiding +and honest when left at peace, still he was painfully suspicious when +something arose of which the circumstances were kept back from him. +There was a secret here,—there was certainly a secret; and it was +shared between his wife, whom of all human beings he had loved the +best, and the man whom he most thoroughly despised. As long as it was +possible that the whole tale might be an invention he would not +believe a word against his wife; but, when it appeared that there was +certainly some truth in it, then it seemed that there was nothing too +monstrous for him to believe.</p> + +<p>After his solitary breakfast he walked abroad, and turned it all in +his mind. He had given her the opportunity of telling him everything, +and she had told him nothing. So he declared to himself. That one +damning fact was there,—clear as daylight, that she had willingly +bestowed herself upon this baronet, this creature who to his thinking +was vile as a man could be. As to that there was no doubt. That was +declared. How different must she have been from that creature whom he +had fancied that he had loved, when she would have willingly +consented to be the wife of such a man? And this had been done within +a year,—as he said. And then she had married him, telling him +nothing of it, though she must have known that he would discover it +as soon as she was his wife. It suited her to be his wife,—for some +reason which he could not perceive. She had achieved her object;—but +not on that account need he live with her. It had been an affair of +money, and his money she might have.</p> + +<p>He came back and got his horse, as the motion of walking was not fast +enough for him in his passion. It was grievous to be borne,—the fact +that he had been so mistaken in choosing for himself a special woman +as a companion of his life. He had desired her to be all honour, all +truth, all simplicity, and all innocence. And instead of these things +he had encountered fraud and premeditated deceit. She was his wife +indeed;—but not on that account need he live with her.</p> + +<p>And then his curiosity was raised. What was the secret between them? +There must have been some question of money, as to which at the last +moment they had disagreed. To his thinking it was vile that a young +woman should soil her mind with such thoughts and marry or reject a +man at the last moment because of his money. All that should be +arranged for her by her friends, so that she might go to her husband +without having been mixed in any question of a sordid matter. But +these two had probably found at the last moment that their income was +insufficient for their wants, and therefore his purse had been +thought convenient. As all these things, with a thousand others, +passed through his mind he came to the determination that at any rate +they must part.</p> + +<p>He came home, and before he ate his dinner he wrote to her that +letter, of which the contents shall now be given. It was a most +unreasonable letter. But to him in his sorrow, in his passion, it +seemed that every word was based upon reason.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Cecilia</span>, +[the letter ran]</p> + +<p>I need hardly tell you that I was surprised by the facts +which you at last told me this morning. I should have been +less pained, perhaps, had they come to me in the first +instance from yourself instead of from Sir Francis +Geraldine. But I do not know that the conclusion to which +I have been forced would have been in any way altered had +such been the case. I can hardly, I fear, make you +understand the shock with which I have received the +intelligence, that a month or two before I proposed to you +you had been the promised wife of that man. I need hardly +tell you that had I known that it was so I should not have +offered you my hand. To say the least of it, I was led +into my marriage by mistake. But a marriage commenced with +such a mistake as that cannot be happy.</p> + +<p>As to your object I cannot surmise. But I suppose that you +were satisfied, thinking me to be of a nature especially +soft and gentle. But I fear I am not so. After what has +passed I cannot bring myself to live with you again. Pray +believe it. We have now parted for ever.</p> + +<p>As to your future welfare, and as to the honour which will +be due to my name, which you must continue to bear, I am +quite willing to make any arrangements which friends of +yours shall think to be due to you. Half my income you +shall have, and you shall live here in this house if it be +thought well for you. In reference to these things your +lawyers had better see my lawyers. In the meantime my +bankers will cash your cheques. But believe me that I am +gone, not to return.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your affectionate husband,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">George +Western</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>These words he wrote, struggling to be cool and rational while he +wrote them, and then he departed, leaving the letter upon the table.</p> + + +<p> </p> +<h4>END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.</h4> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> + + +<p><a name="c13" id="c13"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>VOLUME II.</h3> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> +<h4>MRS. WESTERN PREPARES TO LEAVE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Cecilia, when she first read her husband's letter, did not clearly +understand it. It could not be that he intended to leave her for +ever! They had been married but a few months,—a few months of +inexpressible love and confidence; and it was impossible that he +should intend that they should be thus parted. But when she had read +it again and again, she began to perceive that it was so; "Pray +believe it. We have now parted for ever." Had he stopped there her +belief would have only been half-hearted. She would not in truth have +thought that he had been in earnest in dooming her to eternal +separation. But he had gone on with shocking coolness to tell her how +he had arranged his plans for the future. "Half my income you shall +have." "You shall live here in this house, if it be thought well for +you." "Your lawyer had better see my lawyers." It was, in truth, his +intention that it should be so. And she had already begun to have +some knowledge of the persistency of his character. She was already +aware that he was a man not likely to be moved from his word. He had +gone, and it was his intention to go. And he had declared with a +magnanimity which she now felt to be odious, and almost mean, what +liberal arrangements he had made for her maintenance. She was in no +want of income. She told herself that she would rather starve in the +street than eat his bread, unless she might eat it from the same loaf +with him; that she would rather perish in the cold than enjoy the +shelter of his roof, unless she might enjoy it with him.</p> + +<p>There she remained the whole day by herself, thinking that something +must occur to mitigate the severity of the sentence which he had +pronounced against her. It could not be that he should leave her +thus,—he whose every word, whose every tone, whose every look, whose +every touch had hitherto been so full of tenderness. If he had loved +as she had loved how could he live without her? He had explained his +idea of a wife, and though he had spoken the words in his anger, +still she had been proud. But now it seemed as though he would have +her believe that she was wholly unnecessary to him. It could not be +so. He could not so have deceived her. It must be that he would want +her as she wanted him, and that he must return to her to satisfy the +cravings of his own heart.</p> + +<p>But as time went on her tenderness gradually turned to anger. He had +pronounced the sentence, the heaviest sentence which his mind could +invent against her whom he had made his own. Was that sentence just? +She told herself again and again that it was most unjust. The fault +which she had committed deserved no such punishment. She confessed to +herself that she had promised to become the wife of a man unworthy of +her; but when she had done so she had not known her present husband. +He at least had no cause of anger with her in regard to that. And +she, as soon as she had found out her mistake and the man's character +had become in part revealed to her, had with a terrible courage taken +the bull by the horns and broken away from the engagement which +outward circumstances at any rate made attractive. Then with her +mother she had gone abroad, and there she had met with Mr. Western. +At the moment of their meeting she had been at any rate innocent in +regard to him. From that moment she had performed her duty to him, +and had been sincere in her love, even as such a man as Mr. Western +could desire,—with the one exception of her silence. It was true +that she should have told him of Sir Francis Geraldine; of her folly +in accepting him and her courage in repudiating him. Day by day the +days had gone by, and there had been some cause for fresh delay, that +cause having ever reference to his immediate comfort. Did she not +know that had she told him, his offer, his love, his marriage would +have been the same? And now, was she to be turned adrift and thrown +aside, rejected and got rid of at an instant's notice, because, for +his comfort, the telling of her story had been delayed? The +injustice, the cruelty, the inhumanity of such a punishment were very +plain to her.</p> + +<p>Could he do it? As her husband had he a right so to dismiss her from +his bosom? And his money? Perish his money! And his house! The +remembrance of the offers which he made to her aggravated her wrath +bitterly. As his wife she had a right to his care, to his presence, +and to his tenderness. She had not married him simply to be +maintained and housed. Nor was that the meaning of their marriage +contract. Before God he had no right to send her away from him, and +to bid her live and die alone.</p> + +<p>But though he had no right he had the power. She could not force him +to be her companion. The law would give her only those things which +she did not care to claim. He already offered more than the law would +exact, and she despised his generosity. As long as he supported her +the law could not bring him back and force him to give her to eat of +his own loaf, and to drink of his own cup. The law would not oblige +him to encircle her in his arms. The law would not compel him to let +her rest upon his bosom. None of those privileges which were +undoubtedly her own could the law obtain for her. He had said that he +had gone, and would not return, and the law could not bring him back +again. Then she sat and wept, and told herself how much better for +her would have been that single life of which Miss Altifiorla had +preached to her the advantages.</p> + +<p>The second day since his departure had passed and she had taken no +step. Alone she had given way to sorrow and to indignation, but as +yet had decided on nothing. She had waited, still thinking that +something would be done to soften her sorrow; but nothing had been +done. The servants around her moved slowly, solemnly, and as though +struck with awe. Her own maid had tried to say a word once and again, +but had been silenced by the manner of her mistress. Cecilia, though +she felt the weight of the silence, could not bring herself to tell +the girl that her husband had left her for ever. The servants no +doubt knew it all, but she could not bring herself to tell them that +it was so. He had told her that her cheques on his bankers would be +paid, but she had declared that on no account should such cheque be +drawn by her. If he had made up his mind to desert her, and had +already left her without intending further communication, she must +provide for herself. She must go back to her mother, where the eyes +of all Exeter would see her. But she must in the first instance write +to her mother; and how could she explain to her mother all that had +happened? Would even her own mother believe her when she said that +she was already deserted by her husband for ever and ever because she +had not told him the story respecting Sir Francis Geraldine?</p> + +<p>On the third morning she resolved that she would write to her +husband. It was not fit, so she told herself, that she should leave +his house without some further word of instruction from him. But how +to address him she was ignorant. He was gone, but she did not know +whither. The servants, no doubt, knew where, but she could not bring +herself to ask them. On the third day she wrote as follows. The +reader will remember that that short scrawl which she addressed to +him from her bedroom had not been sent.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear +George</span>,—This is the first letter I have written to +you as your wife, and it will be very sad. I do not think +that you can have remembered that yours would be the first +which I had ever received from my husband.</p> + +<p>Your order has crushed me altogether. It shall, +nevertheless, be obeyed as far as I am able to obey it. +You say something as to your means, and something also as +to your house. In that you cannot be obeyed. It is not +possible that I should take your money or live in your +house unless I am allowed to do so as your wife. The law, +I think, says that I may do so. But the law, of course, +cannot compel a man to be a loving, tender husband, or +even to accept the tenderness of a loving wife. I know +what you owe me, but I know also that I cannot exact it +unless you can give it with all your heart. Your money and +your house I will not have unless I can have them together +with yourself. Your bread would choke me. Your roof would +not shelter me. Your good things would be poison to +me,—unless you were here to make me feel that they were +yours also as well as mine. If you mean to insist on the +severity of your order, you will have to get rid of me +altogether. I shall then have come across two men of which +I do not know whether to wonder most at the baseness of +the one or the cruelty of the other. In that case I can +only return to my mother. In that case you will not, I +think, care much what may become of me; but as I shall +still bear your name, it is, I suppose, proper that you +should know where I purpose living.</p> + +<p>But, dear George, dearest George,—I wish you could know +how much dearer to me in spite of your cruelty than all +the world besides,—I cannot even yet bring myself to +believe that we can for ever be separated. Dear George, +endeavour to think how small has been my offence and how +tremendous is the punishment which you propose. The +offence is so small that I will not let myself down by +asking your pardon. Had you said a word sitting beside me, +even a word of anger, then I could have done so. I think I +could have made you believe how altogether accidental it +had been. But I will not do so now. I should aggravate my +own fault till it would appear to you that I had done +something of which I ought to be ashamed, and which +perhaps you ought not to forgive. I have done nothing of +which I am ashamed, and nothing certainly which you ought +even to think it necessary to pardon.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">When she had got so far +she sat for a while thinking whether she +would or would not tell him of the cause and the manner of her +silence. Should she refer him to his sister, who understood so well +how that silence had been produced? Should she explain to him that +she had in the first case hesitated to tell him her story because her +story had been so like to his own? But as she thought of it all, she +declared to herself that were she to do so she would in truth +condescend to ask his pardon. What she required of him was that he +should acknowledge her nature, her character, her truth to be such +that he had made a grievous mistake in attributing to her aught that +was a just cause of anger. "You stupid girl, you foolish girl, to +have given yourself and me such cause for discomfort!" That he should +have said to her, with his arm round her waist; that and nothing +more. Thinking of all this she resolved not to go into that subject. +Should she ever do so it must be when he had come back to her, and +was sitting there with his arm around her waist. She ended her +letter, therefore, very shortly.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>As I must wait here till I hear +from you, and cannot even +write to my mother till I do so, I must beg you to answer +my letter quickly. I shall endeavour to go on without +drawing any cheques. If I find it necessary I shall have +to write to my mother for money.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your most affectionate wife,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Cecilia +Western</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Oh, George, if you knew how I love +you!<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Then, as she did not like to send the letter out among the servants +without any address, and thus to confess to them that she did not +know where her husband had gone, she directed the letter to him at +his club in London.</p> + +<p>During the next day or two the pity of her servants, the silent, +unexpressed pity, was very hard to bear. As each morning came her +punishment seemed to become more and more intolerable to her. She +could not read. There were none among her friends, not even her +mother, to whom she could write. It was still her hope,—her faintest +hope, that she need confess to none of them the fact that her husband +had quarrelled with her. She could only sit and ponder over the +tyranny of the man who by his mere suspicions could subject a woman +to so cruel a fate. But on the evening of the third day she was told +that a gentleman had called to see her. Mr. Gray sent his card in to +her, and she at once recognised Mr. Gray as her husband's attorney. +She was sitting at the open window of her own bedroom, looking into +the garden, and she was aware that she had been weeping. "I will be +down at once," she said to the maid, "if Mr. Gray will wait."</p> + +<p>"Oh, ma'am, you do take on so dreadfully!" said the girl.</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Mary. I will come down and see Mr. Gray if you will +leave me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, ma'am, oh, Miss Holt, I have known you so long, may I not say a +word to you?"</p> + +<p>"I am not Miss Holt. I am still entitled to bear my husband's name." +Then the girl, feeling herself to have been rebuked, was leaving the +room, when her mistress jumped up from her seat, took her in her +arms, and kissed her. "Oh, Mary," she said, "I am unhappy, so +unhappy! But pray do not tell them. It is true that you have known me +long, and I can trust you." Then the girl, crying much more bitterly +than her mistress, left the room.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes Cecilia followed her, and entered the parlour into +which Mr. Gray had been shown, without a sign of tears upon her +cheeks. She had been able to assume a look of injured feminine +dignity, of almost magnificent innocence, by which the lawyer was +much startled. She was resolved at any rate to confess no injury done +by herself to her husband, and to say nothing to Mr. Gray of any +injury done by him to her. Mr. Gray, too, was a gentleman, a man over +fifty years of age, who had been solicitor to Mr. Western's father. +He knew the husband in this case well, but he had as yet known +nothing of the wife. He had been simply told by Mr. Western to +understand that he, Mr. Western, had no fault to find with the lady; +that he had not a word to say against her; but that unfortunately +circumstances had so turned out that all married happiness was +impossible for him. Mr. Gray had endeavoured to learn the facts; but +he had been aware that Mr. Western was a man who would not bear +pumping. A question or two he had asked, and had represented to his +client how dreadful was the condition to which he was condemning both +the lady and himself. But his observations were received with that +peculiar cold civility which the man's manner assumed when he felt +that interference was taken in matters which were essentially private +to himself. "It is so, Mr. Gray, that in this case it cannot be +avoided. I wish you to understand, that all pecuniary arrangements +are to be made for Mrs. Western which she herself may desire. Were +she to ask for everything I possess she must have it,—down to the +barest pittance." But at this moment he had not received his wife's +letter.</p> + +<p>There was a majesty of beauty about Mrs. Western by which Mr. Gray +was startled, but which he came to recognise before the interview was +over. I cannot say that he understood the cause of the quarrel, but +he had become aware that there was much in the lady very much on a +par with her husband's character. And she, when she found out, as she +did instinctively, that she had to deal with a gentleman, dropped +something of the hauteur of her silence. But she said not a word as +to the cause of their disagreement. Mr. Gray asked the question in +the simplest language. "Can you not tell me why you two have +quarrelled so quickly after your marriage?" But she simply referred +him to her husband. "I think you must ask Mr. Western about that." +Mr. Gray renewed the question, feeling how important it was that he +should know. But she only smiled, and again referred him to her +husband. But when he came to speak to her about money arrangements +she smiled no longer. "It will not be necessary," she said.</p> + +<p>"But it is Mr. Western's wish."</p> + +<p>"It will not be necessary. Mr. Western has decided that we +must—part. On that matter I have nothing to say. But there will be +nothing for any lawyer to do on my behalf. If Mr. Western has made up +his mind, I will return to my mother. I can assure you that no steps +need be taken as to money." "No steps will be possible," she added +with all that feminine majesty which was peculiar to her. "I +understand from you that Mr. Western's mind is made up. You can tell +him that I shall be ready to leave this house for my mother's, +in—let me say a week." Mr. Gray went back to town having been able +to make no other arrangement. He might pay the servants' wages,—when +they were due; and the tradesmen's bills; but for herself and her own +peculiar wants Mrs. Western would take no money. "You may tell Mr. +Western," she said, "that I shall not have to encroach on his +liberality." So Mr. Gray went back to town; and Mrs. Western carried +herself through the interview without the shedding of a tear, without +the utterance of a word of tenderness,—so that the lawyer on leaving +her hardly knew what her wishes were.</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless I think it is his doing," he said to himself. "I think +she loves him."</p> + + +<p><a name="c14" id="c14"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> +<h4>TO WHAT A PUNISHMENT!<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Mr. Western, when he received his wife's letter, after having given +his instructions to the lawyer, was miserable enough. But not on that +account did he think of changing his purpose. He had made up his +mind,—as men say, and having made it up he assured himself that he +had done it with ample cause. He could not quite explain to himself +the reasons for his anger. He did not quite know what were the faults +of which he accused his wife. But he was sure that his wrath was +just, and had come from sins on her part which it would be unbecoming +that he as a man and a husband should condone. And his anger was the +hotter because he did not know what those sins were. There had been +some understanding,—so he thought,—between his wife and Sir Francis +Geraldine which was derogatory to his honour. There had been an +understanding and a subsequent quarrel, and Sir Francis Geraldine had +been base enough to inform him of the understanding because of the +quarrel. Sir Francis no doubt had been very base, but not on that +account had his wife been less a sinner. What was it to him that Sir +Francis should be base? No vice, no lies, no cruelty on the part of +Sir Francis were anything to him. But his wife;—that she whom he had +taken to his bosom as his own, that she in whom he had believed, she +who was to be the future depository of all his secrets, his very +second self, that she, in the very moment in which he had exposed to +her the tenderness of his heart, that she should then have +entertained a confidential intercourse with such a one as Sir Francis +Geraldine, an intercourse of which she had intended that he should +know nothing,—that, that was more than he could endure. It was +this,—this feeling that he was to know nothing of it, which was too +much for him. It seemed to him that he had been selected to be a +stalking-horse for them in their intercourse. It was not that he ever +accused his wife of illicit love. He was not base enough to think her +so base as that. But there had been some cause for a mysterious +alliance as to which he had been kept in the dark. To be kept in the +dark, and by his own wife, was the one thing that was unendurable. +And then the light had been let in upon him by that letter from Sir +Francis, in which Sir Francis had offered "such courtesies as are +generally held to be pleasant in a neighbourhood!" The intention had +been that this old friendship should be renewed under his roof, and +be renewed without any information being given to him that it had +ever previously existed. This was the feeling that had made it +incumbent on him to repudiate a wife who had so treated him. This was +the feeling which forbad him to retreat from his suicidal purpose. +His wife had had a secret, a secret which it was not intended that he +should share, and her partner in the secret had been that man whom of +all men he had despised the most, and who, as he now learnt, had been +only the other day engaged to marry her. In fostering his wrath he +had declared to himself that it was but only the other day; and he +had come to think that at the very moment in which he had told +Cecilia Holt of all his own troubles she had then, even then, been +engaged to this abominable baronet. "I have got another man to offer +to marry me, and therefore our engagement, which is a trouble to us +both, may now be over." Some such communication as this had been +made, and he had been the victim of it.</p> + +<p>And yet as he thought of all this, and nursed his rage, and told +himself how impossible it was that he should even pretend to live +with such a woman with continued confidence, even then he was at +moments almost overcome by the tenderness of his recollections. He +had loved her so entirely; and she to his outward eyes and outward +ears had been so fit to be loved! He had thanked his stars that after +running into so great a peril with that other lady it had at last +been given to him to settle his heart where it might dwell securely. +She had required from him no compliments, none of the little +weaknesses of love-making, no pretences, had demanded from him the +taking of no trouble which would have grated against his feeling. She +had been everything that his very soul desired. Even on the day after +their wedding he had been able to sit down with her in a quiet and +assured conviction that she was all that he wanted to make him happy. +And she had played her part so well! She had been to him as though it +had been a fresh thing to her to love a man with all her heart, and +to be able to talk to him of her love. And yet she, the while, was in +secret and most intimate communication with a man to whom he had been +in the habit of applying within his own breast all the vilest +epithets which the language could afford. "Swindler, thief, +scoundrel," were the terms he had thought of. In his dislike to the +ways of the world in general he had declared to himself that the +world admitted such as Sir Francis within its high places without +disgust. This was the man who had coolly demanded to be intimate with +him, and had done so in order that he might maintain his acquaintance +with his wife!</p> + +<p>We know how wrong he was in these thoughts;—how grievously he +wronged her of whom he was thinking. Of the worst of all these sins +she was absolutely innocent;—of so much the worst that the fault of +which she had not been innocent was not worth regarding when thought +of in reference to that other crime. But still it was thus that he +believed, and though he was aware that he was about to submit himself +to absolute misery in decreeing their separation, yet there was to +his thinking no other remedy. He had been kept in the dark. To the +secrets of others around him he was he declared to himself absolutely +indifferent. They might have their mysteries and it would be nothing +to him. He had desired to have one whose mysteries should be his +mysteries; who should share every thought of his heart, and of whose +secret thoughts he desired to keep the only key. He had flattered +himself that it was so, and this had been the result! It may be +doubted whether his misery were not altogether as bitter as hers.</p> + +<p>"Of course she shall live with her mother if she pleases it," he said +to Mr. Gray on the following morning. "As to money, if she will name +no sum that she requires I must leave it to you to say what in +justice ought to be allowed to her. You know all the circumstances of +my property."</p> + +<p>"But I know none of the circumstances of your marriage," replied Mr. +Gray.</p> + +<p>"They were altogether of the usual kind."</p> + +<p>"None of the circumstances of your separation, I should have said."</p> + +<p>"It is unnecessary," replied Mr. Western, gloomily.</p> + +<p>"It will be very difficult to give her any advice."</p> + +<p>"You may take it if you will that the fault is all mine. I would +provide for her as I should be bound to do if by my own cruelty or my +own misconduct I had driven her from me!" He had no idea as he said +this that by his own cruelty and his own misconduct he was driving +her from him.</p> + +<p>"My conviction is that she will take nothing," said Mr. Gray.</p> + +<p>"In a matter of business she must take it. The money must be paid to +her, let her do what she will with it. Even though it should be +thrown into the sea, I must pay it."</p> + +<p>"I think you will find that she has a will of her own."</p> + +<p>"And she will find that I have," said Mr. Western with a frown. It +was exactly on this point that the husband and wife were being +separated. He had thought that she had calculated that when once they +were married she had carried her purpose in spite of his will. But he +would let her understand that it was not so. She had so far succeeded +that she was entitled to bear his name, but she had not mastered him +in the matter, and should not do so.</p> + +<p>"It is a thousand pities, Mr. Western, you will allow me to say so, +but it is a thousand pities. A most handsome lady:—with a fine +lady-like air! One in a thousand!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Western could not endure to hear the catalogue of his wife's +charms set forth to him. He did not want to be told by his lawyer +that she was "handsome" and "one in a thousand"! In that respect +their quarrel made no difference. No gentleman wishes another to +assure him that his wife is one in a thousand. An old mother might +say so, or an old aunt; hardly any one less near and less intimate +could be allowed to do so. Mr. Western was aware that no man in the +ordinary course of events would be less likely to offend in that way +than Mr. Gray. But in this case Mr. Gray should not, he thought, have +done it. He had come to Mr. Gray about money and not about his wife's +beauty. "I hardly think we need discuss that," he said, still with a +heavy frown on his brow. "Perhaps you will think over what I have +said to you, and name a sum to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"At the risk of making you angry I have to speak," continued Mr. +Gray. "I knew your father, and have known you all your life. If this +is to make her miserable, and if, as I gather, she has committed no +great fault, will it not be—wicked?" Mr. Gray sat silent for a few +moments, looking him in the face. "Have you consulted your own +conscience, and what it will say to you after a time? She has given +all that she has to you, though there has not been a shilling,—and +no money can repay her. One fault is not pardonable,—one only +fault."</p> + +<p>"No, no. I do not accuse her."</p> + +<p>"Nor dream that she is guilty,—if I understand the matter rightly."</p> + +<p>"No, I do not. But I do not come here to be interrogated about her +after this fashion,—nor to be told that I am wicked. For what sins I +commit I must be myself responsible. I am unable,—at any rate +unwilling,—to tell you the circumstances, and must leave you to draw +your own conclusions. If you will think over the matter, and will +name a sum, I shall be obliged to you." Then he was about to leave +the chamber, but Mr. Gray interposed himself between his client and +the door.</p> + +<p>"Pray excuse me, Mr. Western. I know that you are angry, but pray +excuse me. I should ill do my duty to an old client whom I respect +did I not dare, as being older than he is, to give the advice which +as a bystander I think that he requires." Mr. Western stood perfectly +silent before him, but clearly showing his wrath by the frown upon +his brow. "I venture to say that you are taking upon yourself as a +husband to do that which the world will not pardon."</p> + +<p>"I care nothing for the world."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me. You will care for it when you come to consider that its +decision has been just. When you have to reflect that you have ruined +for ever the happiness of a woman whom you have sworn to love and +protect, and that you have cast her from you for some reason which +you cannot declare and which is not held to justify such usage, then +you will regard what the world says. You will regard it because your +own conscience will say the same. If I mistake not you still love +her."</p> + +<p>"I am not here to discuss such points," said Mr. Western angrily.</p> + +<p>"Think of the severity of the punishment which you are inflicting +upon one whom you love; and of the effect it must have on her +feelings. I tell you that you have no right to do this,—unless she +has been guilty as you confess she has not." Then he seated himself +in his arm-chair, and Mr. Western left the chamber without saying +another word.</p> + +<p>He went out into Lincoln's Inn, and walked westward towards his Club, +hardly knowing in his confusion whither he was going. At first his +breast was hot with anger against Mr. Gray. The man had called him +wicked and cruel, and had known nothing of the circumstances. Could +it be wicked, could it be cruel for him to resent such treachery as +that of which he had been the victim? All his holiest hopes had been +used against him for the vilest purposes and with the most fell +effect! He at any rate had been ruined for ever. And the man had told +him about the world! What did he in his misery care for the world's +judgment? Cecilia had married him,—and in marrying him had torn his +heart asunder. This man had accused him of cruelty in leaving her. +But how could he have continued to live with her without hypocrisy? +Cruel indeed! What were her sufferings to his,—hers, who had +condescended to the level of Sir Francis Geraldine, and had +trafficked with such a one as that as to the affairs of their joint +happiness! To such a woman it was not given to suffer. Yes; she was +beautiful and she looked as a lady should look. Mr. Gray had been +right enough in that. But he had not known how looks may deceive, how +noble to the eye may be the face of a woman while her heart within is +ignoble, paltry, and mean. But as he went on with his walk by degrees +he came to forget Mr. Gray, and to think of the misery which was in +store for himself. And though at the moment he despised Mr. Gray, his +thoughts did occupy themselves exactly with those perils of which Mr. +Gray had spoken. The woman had trusted herself to his care and had +given him her beauty and her solicitude. He did in his heart believe +that she loved him. He remembered the last words of her letter—"Oh, +George, if you knew how I love you!" He did not doubt but that those +words were true. He did not suppose that she had given her heart to +Sir Francis Geraldine,—that she had truly and sincerely devoted +herself to one so mean as that! Such heart as she had to give had +been given to himself. But there had been traffic of marriage with +this man, and even continued correspondence and an understanding as +to things which had put her with all her loveliness on a level with +him rather than with her existing husband. What this understanding +was he did not, he said, care to inquire. It had existed and still +did exist. That was enough to make him know that she was untrue to +him as his wife,—untrue in spirit if not in body. But in truth he +did care to know. It was, indeed, because he had not known, because +he had been allowed only to guess and search and think about it, that +all this misery had come. He had been kept in the dark, and to be +kept in the dark was to him, of all troubles, the most grievous. When +he had first received the letter from Sir Francis he had not believed +it to be true;—from first to last it had been a fiction. But when +once his wife had told him that the engagement had existed, he +believed all. It was as though she had owned to him the circumstance +of a still existing intimate friendship. He had been kept in the +dark, but he did not know how far.</p> + +<p>But still there loomed to him as to the future, vaguely, the idea +that by the deed he was doing now, at this present moment, he was +sacrificing her happiness and his own for ever,—as regarded this +world. And the people would say that he had done so, the people whose +voices he could not but regard. She would say so, and her +mother,—and he must acknowledge it. And Lady Grant would know that +it had been so, and Mr. Gray would always think so to the end. And +his heart became tender even towards her. What would be her fate,—as +his wife and therefore debarred from the prospects of any other +future? She would live with her mother as any widow would live,—with +much less of hope, with less chance of enjoying her life, than would +any other widow. And when her mother should die she would be all +alone. To what a punishment was he not dooming her!</p> + +<p>If he could die himself it would be well for all parties. He had +taken his great step in life and had failed. Why should he doom her, +who was differently constituted, to similar failure? It had been a +great mistake. He had made it and now there was no escape. But then +again his pity for himself welled up in his heart. Why had he been so +allured, so deceived, so cozened? He had intended to have given all +good things. The very essence of his own being he had bestowed upon +her,—while she, the moment that his back was turned, was +corresponding with Sir Francis Geraldine! That thought he could not +stand. She, in truth, had been greatly in error in her first view of +the character of Sir Francis Geraldine; but it must be a question +whether he was not so also. The baronet was a poor creature, but not +probably so utterly vile as he thought him. As he turned it all over +in his mind, while wandering to and fro, he came to the conclusion +that Mr. Gray was wrong, and that it was impossible that she who had +been the sharer of the thoughts of Sir Francis Geraldine, should now +remain to share his.</p> + + +<p><a name="c15" id="c15"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3> +<h4>ONCE MORE AT EXETER.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Three weeks had passed and much had been done for Mrs. Western to fix +her fate in life. It was now August, and she was already living at +Exeter as a wife separated from her husband. Of much she had had to +think and much to determine before she had found that haven of rest. +Twice during the time she had received letters from her husband, but +each letter had been short, and, though not absolutely without +affection in its language, each letter had been absolutely obdurate. +He had been made quite sure that it was not for the benefit of either +of them that they should attempt to live together. Having come to +that decision, which he represented as unchangeable, he was willing, +he said, to do anything which she might demand for her future +satisfaction and comfort. "There is nothing you can do," she had said +when she had written last, "as you have refused to do your duty." +This had made him again angry. "What right had she to talk to me of +my duty seeing that she has so grossly neglected her own?" he said to +himself. Then he had suddenly gone from England, leaving no address +even with his sister or with his lawyer. But during this time his +mind was not quiet for one instant. How could she have treated him +so, him, who had been so absolutely devoted to her, who had so +entirely given himself up to her happiness?</p> + +<p>Lady Grant, when she had heard what was to be done, had hurried up to +London but had not found them. She had gone to Exeter and there she +had in vain endeavoured to comfort Cecilia. She had declared that her +brother would in time forgive. But Cecilia's whole nature had by this +time apparently been changed. "Forgive!" she had said. "What will he +forgive? There is nothing that he can forgive; nothing that can be +spoken of in the same breath with his perfidy and cruelty. Can I +forgive? Ask yourself that, Lady Grant. Is it possible that I should +forgive?" After two days spent in conversations such as these, Lady +Grant went back to town and discussed the matter with Mr. Gray. They +did not at present know her brother's address; but still there was a +hope that she might induce him to hear reason and again to consent to +live with his wife. "Of all men," she said to the lawyer, "he is the +most honest and the most affectionate; but of all men the most +self-willed and obstinate. An injustice is with him like a running +sore; and, alas, it is not always an injustice, but a something that +he has believed to be unjust."</p> + +<p>Cecilia had written at great length to her mother, telling her with +all details the story as it was to be told, and sparing herself in +nothing. "That wicked man has contrived it all. But, oh, that such a +one as my husband should have been weak enough to have fallen into a +pit so prepared!" Then Mrs. Holt had come up to town and taken her +daughter back with her to Exeter. Now, at last, on this occasion, the +old lady was both energetic and passionate. There had been much +discussion before they had both decided that they would again venture +to live together among their old friends in their old home. But here +Cecilia had shown herself to be once again stronger than her mother. +"Why not?" she said. "What have I done to make it necessary that you +should be torn away from your house? I am not at all ashamed of what +I have done." In this she had blazoned forth her courage with almost +a false conviction. She knew that she had done wrong;—that she had +done that of which among wives she ought to be ashamed. But her sin +had been so small in comparison with the punishment inflicted upon +her that it sunk to nothing even in her own eyes. She felt that she +had been barbarously used. The people of Exeter, or the people of the +world at large, might sympathise with her or not as they pleased. But +under such a mountain of wrong as she had endured, she would not show +by any conduct of her own that she could have in the least deserved +it. "No, mamma," she said; "let them stay away or let them come, I +shall be ready for either. I am a poor, wretched woman, whom to crush +utterly has been within the power of the man she has loved. He has +chosen to exercise it, and I must suffer. But he shall not make me +ashamed. I have done nothing to deserve his cruelty."</p> + +<p>And then when she had been at Exeter but a few days there came +another source of trouble,—though not of unmitigated trouble. She +told her mother that in due course of time her cruel husband would +become the father of a child. She would not write to him. He had not +chosen to let her know his address; nor was it fitting to her +feelings to communicate such a fact in a letter which she must +address secretly to his banker or to his club. Yet the fact was of +such a nature that it was imperative that he should know it. At last +it was told by Mrs. Holt to Lady Grant. Cecilia had herself attempted +it, but had found that she could not do it. She could not write the +letter without some word of tenderness, and she was resolved that no +word of tenderness should go from her to him. It would seem as though +she were asking for money, and were putting forward the coming of the +little stranger as a plea for it. She would ask for no money. She had +appealed to his love, and had appealed in vain. If he were hard, she +would be so too. In her heart of hearts she probably entertained the +idea of some possible future in which she might yet put the child +into its father's arms;—but it should be done not at her request. It +should be at his prayer. At least there was this comfort to +her,—that she no longer dreaded his power. He had so contrived that +to her thinking the fault was altogether on his side. Forgive! Oh +yes; she would forgive! Oh yes; she would forgive, so readily, so +sweetly, with the full determination that it should all be like a +blank nightmare that had come between them and troubled their joys. +But in the bottom of the heart of each it must be understood that it +had been hers to pardon and his to be pardoned. Or if not so, then +she must continue to live her widowed life at Exeter.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Holt was energetic and passionate rather than discreet. She +would not admit that her child had done any wrong, and could not be +got to understand but that the law should make a husband live with +his wife in the proper way. It was monstrous to her thinking that her +daughter should be married and taken away, and then sent back, +without any offence on her part. In the resentment which she felt +against Mr. Western she filled quite a new part among the people of +Exeter. "Oh, mamma; you are so loving, so good," said her daughter; +"but do not let us talk about it! Cannot you understand that, angry +as I am, I cannot endure to have him abused?" "Abused!" said Mrs. +Holt, kindling in her wrath. "I cannot hold myself without abusing +him." But it very soon did come to pass that Mr. Western's name was +not mentioned between them. Mrs. Holt would now and again clench her +fist and shake her head, and Cecilia knew that in her thoughts she +was executing some vengeance against Mr. Western; but there was a +truce to spoken words. Cecilia indeed often executed her vengeance +against her husband after some fashion of her own, but her mother did +not perceive it.</p> + +<p>Among their Exeter friends there soon came to be an actual breach +with Miss Altifiorla. Miss Altifiorla, as soon as it was known that +Mrs. Western had reappeared in Exeter, had rushed down to greet her +friend. There she had been received coldly by Cecilia, and more than +coldly by Cecilia's mother. "My dear Cecilia," she had said, +attempting to take hold of her friend's hand, "I told you what would +come of it."</p> + +<p>"There need be nothing said about it," said Mrs. Western.</p> + +<p>"Not after the first occasion," said Miss Altifiorla. "A few words +between us to show that each understands the other will be +expedient."</p> + +<p>"I do not see that any words can be of service," said Mrs. Western.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," said Mrs. Holt. "Why need anything be said? You +know that she has been cruelly ill-used, and that is all you need +know."</p> + +<p>"I do know the whole history of it," said Miss Altifiorla, who had +taken great pride to herself among the people of Exeter in being the +best-informed person there as to Mrs. Western's sad affairs. "I was +present up to the moment, and I must say that if Cecilia had then +taken my advice things would have been very different. I am not +blaming her."</p> + +<p>"I should hope not," said Mrs. Holt.</p> + +<p>"But things would have been very different. Cecilia was a little +timid at telling her husband the truth. And Mr. Western was like +other gentlemen. He did not like to be kept in the dark by his wife. +You see that Cecilia has given mortal cause for offence to two +gentlemen."</p> + +<p>This was not to be endured. Cecilia did not exactly know all the +facts as they had occurred,—between Miss Altifiorla and Sir +Francis,—and certainly knew none of those which were now in process +of occurring; but she strongly suspected that something had taken +place, that some conversation had been held, between her friend and +Sir Francis Geraldine. She had been allowed to read the letter from +Sir Francis to her husband, and she remembered well the meaning of +it. But she could not remember the terms which he had used. She had, +however, thought that something which had passed between himself and +Miss Altifiorla had been the immediate cause of the writing of that +letter. She did think that Miss Altifiorla had, as it were, gone over +to the enemy. That she had been prepared to pardon. The enemy had in +fact told no falsehood in his letter. It had been her misfortune that +the story which he had told had been true;—and her further +misfortune that her husband should have believed so much more than +the truth. For all that she did not hold Miss Altifiorla to be +responsible. But when she was told that she had given cause for +mortal offence to two gentlemen, there was something in the phrase +which greatly aggravated her anger. It was as though this would-be +friend was turning against her for her conduct towards Sir Francis. +And she was just as angry that the friend should turn against her for +her conduct to her husband. "Miss Altifiorla," she said, "I must +request that there be no further conversation between us in reference +to the difference between me and my husband."</p> + +<p>"Miss Altifiorla!" said the lady. "Is it to come to that, +Cecilia;—between you and me who have enjoyed so much sweet +friendship?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, if you make yourself so offensive," said Mrs. Holt.</p> + +<p>"It is the only mode by which I can show that I am in earnest," said +Cecilia. "If it does not succeed, I must declare that I shall be +unwilling to meet you at all. I told you to be silent, and you would +not."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well! If you like to quarrel it will quite suit me. But in +your present condition I hardly think that you are wise in throwing +off your old friends. It is just the time when you ought to cling to +those who would be true to you."</p> + +<p>This was more than Cecilia could bear. "I shall cling to those who +are true to me," she said, leaving the room.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well! Then I shall know how to conduct myself." This was +addressed to Mrs. Holt.</p> + +<p>"I hope you will conduct yourself, as you call it, somewhere away +from here. You're very fond of meddling, that's the truth; and +Cecilia in her present condition does not want to be meddled with. +Oh, yes; you can go away as soon as ever you please." Thereupon Miss +Altifiorla left the room and withdrew.</p> + +<p>It must be explained that this lady, since she was last upon the +scene, had learned to entertain new hopes, very exalted in their +nature. It had first occurred to her during those ten minutes at the +Paddington railway station, that it might possibly be so if she +played her cards well. And then how glorious would be the result! Sir +Francis Geraldine had squeezed her hand. If he might be made to go on +squeezing her hand sufficiently, how great might be the effect +produced! Lady Geraldine! How beautiful was the sound! She thought +that within all the bounds of the English peerage,—and she believed +that she knew that those bounds included the Baronets,—there was no +sweeter, no more glorious, no more aristocratic appellation. Lady +Geraldine! What a change, what a blissful change would that be!</p> + +<p>When she thought of the chill of her present life, of its want of +interest, of its insipid loneliness, and then told herself what might +be in store for her should she live to become Lady Geraldine, she +declared to herself that even though the chance might be very small, +the greatness of the reward if gained would justify the effort. Lady +Geraldine! And she saw no reason why her chance should be so very +small. She had a cousin with a pedigree longer than even that of Sir +Francis,—Count Altifiorla, who, indeed, had no money, but was a +genuine Count. She herself had a nice little sum of money, quite +enough to be agreeable to a gentleman who might be somewhat out at +elbows from the effects of Newmarket. And she did not think too +little of her own personal appearance. She knew that she had a good +wearing complexion, and that her features were of that sort which did +not yield very readily to the hand of time. There were none of the +endearing dimples of early youth, none of the special brightness of +English feminine loveliness, none of the fresh tints of sweet +girlhood; but Miss Altifiorla boasted to herself that she would look +the British aristocratic matron very well. She certainly had not that +Juno beauty which Cecilia Holt could boast, that beauty which could +be so severe to all chance comers, but which could melt at once and +become soft and sweet and easy to one favoured individual. Miss +Altifiorla acknowledged to herself that it was her nature always to +remain outwardly the same to all men. But then dress and diamonds, +and all the applied paraphernalia of aristocracy would, she felt, go +far with her.</p> + +<p>If Sir Francis could be once got to admire her, she was sure that Sir +Francis would never be driven to repent of his bargain from any +falling off on her part. She thought that she would know how to be +the master; but this would be an after consideration, and one as to +which she need not at present pay especial attention. Sir Francis had +squeezed her hand most affectionately, and there had been a +subsequent meeting at Exeter, where he had stayed a couple of hours +as he went through to his own property. And she was sure that he had +stayed for the purpose of meeting her. Since that affair with Cecilia +Holt he had not been made warmly welcome at the Deanery. Yet he had +stayed and had absolutely called upon Miss Altifiorla. He had found +her and had discussed Mr. and Mrs. Western with much sarcastic +humour. "Now you haven't!" Miss Altifiorla had said, when he told her +of the letter he had written. "How could you be so hard upon the poor +man?" "Perhaps the lady may think that I have been hard upon her," +Sir Francis had replied. "Perhaps she will know the meaning of tit +for tat. Perhaps she will understand now that one good turn deserves +another. It was not that I cared so much for her," he said. "I'd got +to feel that she was far too virtuous for me, too stuck up, you'll +understand. I wasn't at all disappointed when she played me that +trick. She didn't turn out the sort of girl that I had taken her for. +I knew that I had had an escape. But, nevertheless, tit for tat is +fair on both sides. She played me a trick, and now I've played her +one and we are even. We can each go to work again. She began a little +too soon, perhaps, for her own comfort; but that's her affair and not +mine."</p> + +<p>In answer to all this, Miss Altifiorla had only laughed and smiled +and declared that Cecilia had been served right, though she +thought,—she said that she thought,—that Sir Francis had been +almost too hard. "That's my way of doing business," he had added. "If +anyone wants me to run straight, they must begin by running straight +themselves. I can be as sweet as new milk if I'm well treated." Then +there had been a moment in which Miss Altifiorla had almost expected +that he was going to do something preparatory to declaring himself. +She was convinced that he was about to kiss her; but at the very +moment at which the event had been expected, Mrs. Green had been +announced and the kiss did not, alas, come off. She could hardly +bring herself to be civil to Mrs. Green when Sir Francis declared +that he must go to the station.</p> + + +<p><a name="c16" id="c16"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> +<h4>"IT IS ALTOGETHER UNTRUE."<br /> </h4> + + +<p>The month of September wore itself away at Exeter very sadly. An +attempt was made to bid Mrs. Western welcome back to her old home; +but from the nature of the circumstances there could hardly be much +heartiness in the attempt. Mrs. Thorne came over from Honiton to see +her, but even between Cecilia and Maude Hippesley, who was certainly +the most cherished of her Exeter friends, there could be no free +confidence, although there was much sympathy. Mrs. Western could +bring herself to speak evil to no one of her husband. She had, with +much passion, told the entire story to her mother, but when her +mother had begun to say hard words respecting him Cecilia had found +it impossible to bear them. Had her mother taken Mr. Western's part, +it may be doubted whether she could have endured that. There was no +speech concerning him which was possible for her ears. She still +looked forward to the chance of having him back again, and if he +would come back, if he would take her back, then he should be +entirely forgiven. He should be so forgiven that no mutual friend +should have heard a word of reproach from her lips. She herself would +know how hardly she had been used; but there should be no one to say +that she had ever been heard to complain of her husband. Not the less +was her heart full of wrath. Not the less did she during every hour +of the day turn over in her thoughts the terrible injustice of which +she had been the victim. But it can be understood that even to her +old friend Maude Hippesley, who was now happy in her new home as Mrs. +Thorne, she could not talk openly of the circumstances of her +separation. But there was, alas, no other subject of such interest to +her at the present moment as to give matter for free conversation.</p> + +<p>The Dean's family, and especially Mrs. Hippesley, attempted to be +kind to her. The Dean himself came down and called with much decanal +grandeur, conspicuous as he walked up to the Hall door with shovel +hat and knee breeches. But even the Dean could not do much. He had +intended to take Mrs. Western's part as against his brother-in-law, +having been no doubt prompted by some old feeling of favour towards +Cecilia Holt; but now he was given to understand that this Mr. +Western had also gone astray, and in such a way as to make it hardly +possible that he should talk about it. He called therefore and took +her by the hand, and expressed a hope that all things should be made +to go straight, and then he left her, taking her by the hand again, +and endeavouring to prove his esteem by his manner of doing so. That +was the beginning and the end of the Dean's comforting. Mrs. +Hippesley could do but little more. She did make an attempt at +confidential conversation, but was soon stopped by Cecilia's cold +manner. Mrs. Western, indeed, could speak to none. She could not +utter a word either for or against her husband. Mrs. Green came, of +course, more than once; but it was the same thing. Mrs. Western could +endure to talk and to be talked to about nothing. And though there +was friendship in it, it was but a subdued feeling of friendship,—of +friendship which under the circumstances had to be made silent. Mrs. +Green when she had taken her leave determined not to come again +immediately, and Mrs. Western when Mrs. Green had gone felt that she +did not wish her to come. She could live with her mother more easily +than with her old friends, because her mother understood the tone of +her mind. Each kept their thoughts to themselves on that subject of +which each was thinking; but each sympathised with the other.</p> + +<p>Lady Grant as soon as she understood the condition of things at once +began to correspond with her brother. To her it was a matter of +course that he should, sooner or later, take his wife back again. But +to her thinking it was most important that he should do so before the +fact of their quarrel had been flaunted before the world by an +enduring separation. She wrote in the first instance without throwing +blame upon either party, but calling upon her brother to show the +honesty and honour of his purpose by coming back at once to Durton +Lodge, and receiving Cecilia. "Of course it must be so sooner or +later," said Lady Grant, "and the quicker you do it so much easier +will be the doing." It should be told that Mrs. Holt had, without +telling her daughter in her passion, herself written to Mr. Western. +"You have sacrificed my daughter in your perversity, and that without +the slightest cause for blame." Such had been the nature of Mrs. +Holt's letter, which had reached him but a day before that of his +sister. Lady Grant's appeal had not been of the same nature. She had +said nothing of the sin of either of them; but had written as though +both had been in fault, misunderstanding each other, and neither +having been willing to yield a little. Then she had appealed to her +brother's love and affectionate disposition. It was not till +afterwards that she had been able to inform him of the baby that was +expected.</p> + +<p>Mr. Western answered his sister's letter from Dresden. To Mrs. Holt +he sent no reply: but he used her letter as the ground for that which +he made to Lady Grant, writing as though Mrs. Holt's words had come +directly from his wife. "They say that I have sacrificed Cecilia +without the slightest fault on her part. I have not sacrificed her, +and there has been terrible fault on her part. Fault! A young woman +marries a man while she is yet engaged to another, and tells the poor +dupe whom she has got within her clutches nothing of her first +engagement! Is there no fault in that? And she afterwards entertains +the first man at her husband's house, and corresponds with him, and +prepares at last to receive him there as a friend, and that without a +word on the subject spoken to her husband! Is there no fault in that? +And at last the truth becomes known to him because the base man is +discontented with the arrangements that have been made, and chooses +to punish her by exposing her at last to the wrath of her husband! I +say nothing of him. With his conduct in the world I have no concern. +But can all that have taken place with no fault on her part? What in +such a state of things should I have done? Should I have contented +myself simply with forbidding my wife to receive the man at my house? +Should I have asked her no question as to the past? Should I have +passed over that engagement which had been in full existence during +the last twelve months, and have said nothing of it? Or should I have +expressed my anger and then have forgiven her, and attempted to live +with her as though this man had never existed? Knowing me as you do, +can you say that that would have been possible to me? How could I +have lived with a wife of whom I knew so much as I had then learned +of mine,—but had known so little before. Had I been a man of the +world, living for the world, careless as to my own home except as to +the excellence of my dinner and the comfort of my bed, it might have +been possible. A man trusting for his happiness to such means might +perhaps have continued to exist and not have been broken-hearted. But +I think you will understand that such could not be the case with me. +I looked for my happiness to my wife's society, and I discovered when +I had married that I could not find it there. I could never respect +her!</p> + +<p>"But she tells me that having married her I have no right to +sacrifice her. As I had been fool enough to allow myself to be so +quickly allured by her charms, and had made those charms my own, I +was bound to stand by my bargain! That I take it is the argument +which she uses. I grant the truth of it. It is I that should be +sacrificed and not she. I have so acted that I am bound to submit +myself to such a verdict. What the law would require from me I cannot +say. The law might perhaps demand a third of my income. She shall +have two-thirds if she wishes it. She shall have seven-eighths if she +will ask for it. At present I have given instructions by which during +her life she shall have one-half. I am aware that in the heat of her +passion she has declined to accept this. It shall nevertheless be +paid to her credit. And I must deny that one who has achieved her +marriage after such a fashion has any right, when so treated, to +regard herself as sacrificed. I am the victim. But as I am convinced +that she and I cannot live happily together, I reserve to myself the +right of living apart."</p> + +<p>Lady Grant, when she received this letter, immediately sat down to +write to Cecilia, but she soon found it to be impossible to put into +a letter all that there was to be said. She was living in the +neighbourhood of Perth, whereas her sister-in-law was at Exeter. And +yet the matter was of such moment that she perceived it to be +essential that they should see each other. Perhaps it might be better +that Mrs. Western should come to her; and therefore she wrote to +her,—not explaining the cause of the proposed visit, to do which +would be as difficult as to write the full letter, but simply saying +that in the present condition of things she thought it would be well +that Cecilia should visit her. This however Mrs. Western refused to +do. She had come to her mother, she said, in her terrible difficulty, +and in her present circumstances would not at once leave her. She +considered herself bound to obey her husband, and would remain at +Exeter until she received instructions from him to leave it.</p> + +<p>There was in her letter a subdued tone of displeasure, which Lady +Grant felt that she had not deserved. She at any rate was anxious to +do her best. But she would not on that account abandon the task which +she had undertaken. Her only doubt was whether she had better go to +her brother at Berlin or to his wife at Exeter. She understood +perfectly now the nature of those mistaken suspicions which filled +her brother's mind. And she was almost sure of the circumstances +which had produced them. But she was not quite sure; and were she to +make mistakes in discussing the matter with him, such mistakes might +be fatal. She thought that with Cecilia she could not do other than +good. She knew her brother's mind better than did his wife, and she +imagined that between them such a story might be told,—a story so +true and so convincing that the husband might be brought back.</p> + +<p>The following very short letter therefore was written. "My dear +Cecilia, as you will not come to me at Perth, I must go to you at +Exeter. I shall start this day week and will be with you on the +following Wednesday. Do not mind as to a room for me, as I can stop +at the hotel; but it is I think imperative that we should see each +other. Yours affectionately, Bertha Grant."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, Lady Grant is coming here next week," said Cecilia to her +mother.</p> + +<p>"To this house next week?"</p> + +<p>"She says that she will come to the hotel; but of course we must +receive her here."</p> + +<p>"But why is she coming?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is because she thinks that something should be done on +behalf of her brother. I can understand her feeling, and am sure that +she sympathises with me. But I do not think that any good will come +of it. Unless he can be made to see how wrong he is nothing will be +able to change him. And until his very nature is changed he will not +be made to understand his own fault." It was thus for the first time +for a fortnight that Mrs. Western spoke to her mother about her +husband.</p> + +<p>At the day appointed Lady Grant came and Mrs. Western met her at the +station. "Of course you will not go to the hotel," she said; "there +is plenty of room at the house. I am greatly obliged to you for +coming. It seems a dreadful thing to have to come on such a business +all the way from Perth. I know that I ought to apologise to you for +the trouble."</p> + +<p>"Apologise! There can be no apologising between you and me. If I can +make each of you understand the truth there is not I think any doubt +but that you will be brought together."</p> + +<p>"If he can be made to see the truth, it may be so. I do not know that +there is any seeing of the truth necessary on the other side. I have +complained of nothing. He has taken upon himself to leave me for some +cause as to which I am perfectly in the dark. However we will not +talk about it now." Then she put Lady Grant into the fly and took her +home.</p> + +<p>There was nothing more said about it on that day. Mrs. Western, in +whose bosom something of her feeling of anger against her husband was +most unjustly extended towards Lady Grant, took care that they two +should not be at once left together again. Mrs. Holt was studiously +civil, but always with a feeling that Mr. Western and Lady Grant were +brother and sister. It was probable that the sister would take her +brother's part and consequently be at any moment converted into an +enemy. The first evening at Exeter was passed very uncomfortably by +the three ladies. But on the following morning a conference was +demanded. "My dear," said Lady Grant, "we have got to discuss all +this and we may as well do it at once. What does your husband mean +when he says that you were still engaged to Sir Francis when you +became engaged to him?"</p> + +<p>"Has he said so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; indeed."</p> + +<p>"Then he has said what is altogether untrue. Nor is there the +slightest ground for such an untruth. Everything between me and Sir +Francis Geraldine was over before we had gone to the Continent. Why; +I left England in consequence of the shock it gave me to have to +abandon him. Does he know,—does your brother know what I told you?"</p> + +<p>"He did not know it when he wrote to me."</p> + +<p>"I suppose not. I should think he would send some message. As a rule +he is soft-hearted, although to me he has become suddenly so +inexpressibly cruel."</p> + +<p>"But you understand now the cause of his displeasure?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," said the angry wife. "I know of no cause for his +displeasure. Displeasure! I know of no cause to justify a step so +terrible as this."</p> + +<p>"Though the statement may be untrue as you say—"</p> + +<p>"It is untrue. It is altogether untrue."</p> + +<p>"But he has believed it!"</p> + +<p>"Why has he believed it? Why; why?"</p> + +<p>"Ah indeed; why?" said Lady Grant. "I suppose that no lie becomes +prevalent in the world for evil without some fault on the part of +somebody. Even though it may not have been expressed in exact terms, +some false person has intentionally spread it abroad. And then a man +in his wrath, when he hears the lie will distort it, and twist it, +and aggravate it,—to his own wrong and to that of others."</p> + +<p>"But my own husband! Him whom I so passionately loved!"</p> + +<p>"And who so passionately loved you! It was because of that that the +lie has so rankled! And, Cecilia, dear, let us be altogether open to +each other."</p> + +<p>"I have concealed nothing from you," said Mrs. Western proudly.</p> + +<p>"Nor wilfully from him. But you had kept from him a detail of your +past life,—of your life not long since past, which, as you yourself +felt, ought to have been made known to him."</p> + +<p>"It would have been made known to him."</p> + +<p>"Just so. But unfortunately he was first allowed to hear it from +another quarter. How it was told from thence you and I do not know."</p> + +<p>"I saw the letter to him from Sir Francis Geraldine. There was no +such statement in it as that you have now made. The tone of the +letter was ungentlemanlike and abominable; but the facts as declared +were true."</p> + +<p>"Do you believe then that he has invented this falsehood against you, +to excuse himself?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the deserted wife; "I do not think he invented it."</p> + +<p>"Nor I. How was it then that the idea has made its way into his +brain?"</p> + +<p>"He is suspicious," said Mrs. Western, speaking very slowly.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he is suspicious. It is the fault of his character. But he is +true and honest, and affectionate, and is by no means exacting or +self-seeking. You have no right to expect that your husband should be +perfect;—nor has he a right to expect it of you. He had no idea of +this engagement till it was told by him who of all men was bound not +to tell him."</p> + +<p>The conversation was carried on after this for a considerable time, +but was left chiefly in the hands of Lady Grant. Two or three times +Mrs. Western put in a word, but it was always to ask what might be +the effect upon him when he should have learned the tidings which she +had sent him. Lady Grant seemed to think that he would of course come +back and again take his wife to his bosom, as soon as he should be +made to understand all the exact facts as to her intercourse with Sir +Francis Geraldine and as to her quarrel with him. But poor Cecilia +seemed to believe more in the coming of the little stranger. "He can +reject me," she once said, with mingled bitterness and hope, "but I +cannot believe that such as he should reject his own child."</p> + +<p>But neither then nor on the following day, which was the last that +Lady Grant allowed herself at Exeter, could she be induced to send to +her husband a single word asking his pardon. "No," she said, holding +her head aloft as she spoke; "it is for me to pardon him. If he wants +my pardon he shall have it. He need not ask for it, but if he comes +he shall have it."</p> + + +<p><a name="c17" id="c17"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII.</h3> +<h4>MISS ALTIFIORLA RISES IN THE WORLD.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>During this time a correspondence, more or less regular, was +maintained between Miss Altifiorla and Sir Francis Geraldine. Sir +Francis had gone to Scotland for the shooting, and rather liked the +interest of Miss Altifiorla's letters. It must be understood that it +had commenced with the lady rather than the gentleman. But that was a +fact of which he was hardly aware. She had written him a short note +in answer to some questions he had asked respecting Mrs. Western when +he had been in Exeter, and this she had done in such a manner as to +make sure of the coming of a further letter. The further letter had +come and thus the correspondence had been commenced. It was no doubt +chiefly in regard to Mrs. Western; or at first pretended to be so. +Miss Altifiorla thought it right to speak always of her old friend +with affectionate kindness;—but still with considerable severity. +The affectionate kindness might go for what it was worth; but it was +the severity, or rather the sarcasm, which gratified Sir Francis. And +then Miss Altifiorla gradually adopted a familiar strain into which +Sir Francis fell readily enough. In fact Sir Francis found that a +young woman who would joke with him, and appear to follow his lead in +her joking, was more to his taste than an austere beauty such as had +been his last love.</p> + +<p>"Lady Grant is here at this moment," Miss Altifiorla said in one of +her letters. She had by this time fallen into that familiar style of +writing which hardly declared whether it belonged to a man's letter +or a woman's. "I suppose you know who Lady Grant is. She is your +fortunate rival's magnificent widowed sister, and has come here I +presume to endeavour to set matters right. Whether she will succeed +may be doubtful. She is the exact ditto of her brother, who of all +human beings gives himself the finest airs. But Cecilia since her +separation has given herself airs too, and now leads her lonely life +with her nose high among the stars. Poor dear Cecilia! her +misfortunes do not become her, and I think they have hardly been +deserved. They are all the result of your bitter vengeance, and +though I must say that she in sort deserves it, I think that you +might have spared her. After all she has done you no harm. Consider +where you would be with Cecilia Holt for your wife and guardian. Hard +though you are, I do not think you would have been hard enough to +treat her as he has done. Indeed there is an audacity about his +conduct to which I know no parallel. Fancy a man marrying a wife and +then instantly bidding her go home to her mother because he finds +that she once liked another man better than himself! I wonder whether +the law couldn't touch him! But you have escaped from all that, and I +really can't understand why you should be so awfully cruel to the +poor girl." Then she signed herself "Yours always, F. A." as though +she had not been a woman at all.</p> + +<p>In all this there was much guile. She had already taken the length of +his foot, and knew how to flatter him, and to cheat him at the same +time. "That poor young woman of mine seems to have got into +difficulties," he said to Dick Ross, who had gone down with him to +Scotland.</p> + +<p>"You have made the difficulties for her," said Dick.</p> + +<p>"Well; I paved the way perhaps. That was only justice. Did she think +that she was going to hit me and that she wasn't to be hit in +return?"</p> + +<p>"A woman," growled Dick.</p> + +<p>"Women are human beings the same as men, and when they make +themselves beasts have got to be punished. You can't horsewhip a +woman; but if you look at it all round I don't see that she ought to +get off so much better than a man. She is a human creature and ought +to be made to feel as a man feels."</p> + +<p>But this did not suit Dick's morality or his sense of chivalry. +According to his thinking a woman in such matters ought to be allowed +to do as she pleased, and the punishment, if punishment there is to +be, must come from the outside. "I shouldn't like to have done it; +that's all."</p> + +<p>"You've always treated women well; haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't say that. I don't know that I've ever treated anybody +particularly well. But I never set my wits to work to take my revenge +on a woman."</p> + +<p>"Look here, old fellow," said Sir Francis. "You had better contrive +to make yourself less disagreeable or else you and I must part. If +you think that I am going to be lectured by you, you're mistaken."</p> + +<p>"You ask me, and how can I help answering you? It was a shabby trick. +And now you may bluster as much as you please." Then the two sat +together, smoking in silence for five minutes. It was after breakfast +on a rainy day, such as always made Dick Ross miserable for the time. +He had to think of creditors whom he could not pay, and of his future +life which did not lie easily open before him, and of all the years +which he had misused. Circumstances had lately thrown him much into +the power of this man whom he heartily disliked and despised, but at +whose hands he had been willing to accept many of the luxuries of his +life. But still he resolved not to be put down in the expression of +his opinions, although he might in truth be turned off at a moment's +notice. "You are corresponding with that old woman now?"</p> + +<p>"What do you know about my correspondence?"</p> + +<p>"I know just what you told me. That letter there is from the lady +with the Italian name. She has more mischief even than you have, I +believe." At hearing this Sir Francis only laughed. "If you don't +take care she'll make you marry her, and then where will you be?"</p> + +<p>"Where would you be, old fellow?"</p> + +<p>"It don't much matter where I should be," said poor Dick. "There's a +revolver up-stairs and I sometimes think that I had better use it. +I've nothing but myself to look after. I've no baronetcy and no +estate, and can destroy none but myself. You can't hurt me very much. +I'll tell you what it is, Geraldine. You want a wife so that you may +cut out your cousin from the property. You're a good-looking fellow +and you can talk, and, as chance would have it, you had, I imagine, +got hold of a true lady. But she found you out."</p> + +<p>"What did she find out?"</p> + +<p>"The sort of fellow that you are. She met you among the Dean's +people, and had to find you out before she knew you. However she did +before it was too late, and she gave you the sack."</p> + +<p>"That's your idea."</p> + +<p>"She did," said Dick boldly. "And there should have been an end of +it. I don't say but what it might have been as well for you as for +her. But it suited you to have your revenge, and you've had it."</p> + +<p>"I rather think I have," said Sir Francis.</p> + +<p>"But you've got a woman to help you in getting it who seems to have +been as spiteful as you, without any excuse. I shouldn't think that +she'd make a good wife. But if you don't take care she'll be yours." +Then Dick got up and walked out of the room with his pipe in his +mouth, and went into his bedroom, thinking that it might be as well +for him to pack up and take his departure. The quarters they were in +were, as he declared to himself, "beastly" in wet weather; but his +shirts hadn't come from the wash, and he had no vehicle to take him +to the railway station without sending for a fly. And after all what +he had said to Sir Francis was not much worse than what had often +been said before. So he chucked off his slippers, and threw himself +upon the bed, thinking that he might as well endeavour to get through +the morning by going to sleep.</p> + +<p>Sir Francis when he found himself alone began to think over all the +circumstances of his present position. Among those circumstances Dick +Ross was one. When he had intended to marry Miss Holt he had +determined to get rid of Dick. Indeed Dick had been got rid of +partially, and had begun to talk of going to Canada or the Cannibal +Islands, by way of beginning the work of his life. Then Sir Francis +had been jilted, and Dick had again become indispensable to him. But +Dick had ever had a nasty way of speaking his mind and blowing up his +patron, which sometimes became very oppressive to the Baronet. And +now at the present moment he was more angry with him for what he had +said as to Miss Altifiorla than for his remarks as to his conduct to +the other lady. All that was simply severe in Dick's words he took +for a compliment. If Dick found fault with his practice he at any +rate acknowledged his success. But his remarks as to the second lady +had been very uncourteous. He had declared that she with the Italian +name was a worse devil even than himself, and had warned him not to +marry the fiend. Now he had nearly made up his mind that he would +marry her. With all the ladies with whom he had hitherto been +connected he had become aware that, in marrying them, he must more or +less alter his manner of life. With Miss Altifiorla no such +alteration would be necessary. He attributed a certain ease which she +possessed to her Italian blood, and thought that he would be able to +get on with her very comfortably. To marry was imperative with +him,—because of his cousin. But he thought that were he to marry +Miss Altifiorla he might continue to live his ordinary life almost +without interruption. He had considered that in doing so he need not +even dismiss Dick Ross. But now, in consequence partly of the great +discourtesy of Dick's remarks and partly from his strong inclination +for Miss Altifiorla, he began to think that after all Dick had better +go. Just at this moment Dick's fortunes were, he knew, very low. One +sum of money had been lost at cards, and another sum of money had not +come. Dick's funds were almost absolutely worn out. But that was only +a reason the more for parting with him. He did not care to have to +deal with a man who had to wear out his old clothes in his house +because he had not credit with his tailor to get a new coat and +trousers. He thought that he would part with Dick; but he had not +quite made up his mind when he sat down to write his letter to Miss +Altifiorla.</p> + +<p>"My dear Miss Altifiorla," he said. "I really don't see that you have +any reason to blow me up as you do about 'poor Cecilia.' I do not +think that poor Cecilia has had it at all hotter than she has +deserved; and when you tell me that I have been awfully cruel to the +poor girl, you seem to forget that the poor girl began the war by +being awfully cruel to me. If you and I should ever come to know each +other, you may be sure that I shall never treat any woman well +because she has treated me badly. It's a kind of gallantry I cannot +understand, and must make a man's conduct quite indifferent to the +sex generally. If you're to treat all alike, whether they run +straight or bolt, why shouldn't they all bolt? It would come to the +same thing in the end. There is Dick Ross been making himself +uncommonly disagreeable on the same subject. I don't mind your +lecturing me a little,—chiefly because you don't think it; but I'll +be hanged if I take it from him. He has not done so very well himself +that he is entitled to blow up anyone.</p> + +<p>"Mind you write and tell me what happens over at St. David's." (Mrs. +Holt lived in Exeter at St. David's.) "I shall be glad to know +whether that respectable person, Mr. Western, comes back again. I +don't think she'll have a good time if he does, and if he don't I +sha'n't break my heart." Then he put his pen down and sat for a while +thinking what should be his last paragraph. Should he put an end to +all his doubts and straightway make his offer, or should he dally a +little longer and still keep the power in his own hands? At last he +said to himself that even if he wrote it his letter would not go till +to-morrow morning, and he would have the night to think about it. +This consideration got the better of his prudence and he did write +it, simply beginning a new sentence on the page. "Don't you think +that you and I know each other well enough to make a match of it? +There is a question for you to answer on your own behalf, instead of +blowing me up for any cruelty to Cecilia Holt."</p> + +<p>Then he signed his name, "Yours ever, F. G."</p> + +<p>Miss Altifiorla when she received the letter was surprised, but not +startled. She had expected that it would come, but not so quickly; +and it may be said of her that she had quite made up her mind as to +the final answer to be given if it should come. But still she had to +think much about it before she wrote her reply. It might be very well +for him to be sudden, but any over-suddenness on her part would put +him on his guard. If he should be made to feel alarmed at what he had +done, if he should be once frightened at his own impetuousness and +hers, he would soon find his way back again out of the difficulty. +But still she must flatter him, still she must make him think that +she loved him. It would not at all do for her to write as though the +thing were impossible. Then in a pleasant reverie she gave herself up +for a while to meditating over the sudden change which had come upon +her views of life. She remembered how strong she had been in +recommending Cecilia not to marry this man, and how she had +congratulated her when she found that she had escaped. And she +remembered the severe things she had said about Mr. Western. But in +her thoughts there was nothing of remorse or even of regret. "Well, +well; that it should have come to this! That he should have escaped +from Cecilia and have chosen me! Upon the whole it will be much +better for him. I shall tread on his corns less than she would, and +be less trodden upon, too, than she. It may be that I must tread on +his corns a little, but I will not begin till after my marriage." +Such was the nature of her thoughts. Perhaps an idea did creep in as +to some awkwardness when she should meet Cecilia. But they could +never see much of each other, and it might be that there would be no +such meeting. "What does it matter?" she said, as she turned to her +writing-table.</p> + +<p>But this was not till three days had passed after the receipt of the +proposal. Three days, she thought, was a fitting time to show that, +though hurried by an affair of so much moment, she was not too much +hurried. And then she wrote as +<span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Sir Francis</span>,</p> + +<p>Your letter has almost taken away my breath. Why, you know nothing +or little about me! And since we have been acquainted with each other +our conversation has chiefly been about another lady to whom you were +engaged to be married. Now you ask me to be your wife; at least, if I +understand your letter, that is its purport. If I am wrong, of course +you will tell me so.</p> + +<p>But of course I know that I am not wrong; and of course I am +flattered, and of course pleased. What I have seen of you I have +altogether liked, and I do not know why we should not be happy +together. But, marriage! marriage is a most important step,—as, no +doubt, you are well aware. Though I am quite earnest in what I am +saying, still I cannot but smile, and can fancy that you are smiling, +as though after all it were but a joke. However, give me but one week +to think of it all, and then I will answer you in sober earnest.</p> + +<p class="ind8">Yours ever (as you sign yourself),</p> + +<p class="ind15">F. A.</p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a name="c18" id="c18"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> +<h4>A MAN'S PRIDE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>About a week after Lady Grant had gone, Mrs. Western received a +letter from her husband. She had expected that he would write, and +had daily looked for the letter. But when it did come she did not +know whether to take it as a joy or a source of additional +discomfort. There was in it hardly a word of declared affection. +Nothing was said as to his future life or hers; but he did write, as +she thought, in a familiar and loving strain as to the event which +had yet to be expected for many months. "My sister has told me your +news," he said, "and I cannot but let you know how anxious I shall be +both for your safety and for that of the stranger. If there be +anything that I can do for your comfort, if you will ask me, you may +be sure that it will be done. I am still at Dresden, and have no idea +of immediately returning to England." There was no commencement to +this, nor any ending. He did not even sign his name, nor call her his +wife, or his dear Cecilia. Upon the whole she felt that it rather +confirmed her sentence of banishment than gave her reason for hope. +He had felt when he wrote it that he could not remain altogether +silent, but had yet determined to awaken no hopes by an assurance of +his returning love. "In fact, the letter," she said to her mother, +"must be taken as meaning nothing. He did not choose to subject +himself to the charge of having been indifferent to the coming of +such an event. But beyond this he had nothing to say to me." Poor +Mrs. Holt remained altogether silent when her daughter discussed the +subject. She knew that she could not speak without loud abuse, and +she knew also that her daughter would not allow her to abuse him.</p> + +<p>Cecilia, without asking the advice of anyone, resolved that she would +not answer the letter. She could not write without using affectionate +language, and such words should never come from her till she had +first been addressed with full affection by him. "Never," she had +said to herself a score of times; "never!" The meaning of this had +been that having been so cruelly ill-used she would do and say +nothing that might be taken as evidence that she had thought herself +in the wrong. She would bear it all rather than give him to +understand that she did not appreciate his cruelty. She had told him +of her love, and he had not vouchsafed to say a word to her in reply. +It was of the injustice done to her that she complained in the words +which she was constantly framing for herself; but it was the apparent +want of affection which was deepest in her heart. Though he had been +twice as cruel, twice as hard, she would have been less unhappy had +she succeeded in drawing from him one word of affection. "What can he +do for my comfort?" she said to herself again and again. "He means +that if I want money I shall have it, so that he may avoid the +disgrace of leaving his wife and his child unprovided for. I will not +have his money, unless he also come himself." She would not even +write to Lady Grant, or let her know that she had received a letter +from her husband. "Oh, yes; I have heard from him. There is his +letter," and she flung the document across the table to her mother. +Having done so she at once left the room, so that there should be no +discussion on the matter. "That there should be not a word of love in +it; not a single word," she went on saying to herself. "How hard must +be a man's heart, and how changeable! He certainly did love me, and +now it has all gone, simply through an unworthy suspicion on his own +part."</p> + +<p>But here she showed how little able she had been as yet to read the +riddle of a man's heart,—how ignorant she had been of the difficulty +under which a man may labour to express his own feeling! That which +we call reticence is more frequently an inability than an +unwillingness to express itself. The man is silent, not because he +would not have the words spoken, but because he does not know the +fitting words with which to speak. His dignity and his so-called +manliness are always near to him, and are guarded, so that he should +not melt into open ruth. So it was with Mr. Western. Living there all +alone at Dresden, seeing no society, passing much of his time in a +vain attempt to satisfy himself with music and with pictures, he +spent all his hours in thinking how necessary his wife had made +herself to his comfort during the few months that they were married. +He had already taught himself to endeavour to make excuses for +her,—though in doing so he always fell back at last on the enormity +of her offence. Though he loved her, though he might probably pardon +her in his weakness, it was impossible that the sin should be washed +out. His anger still burned very hotly, because he could not quite +understand the manner in which the sin had been committed. There was +a secret, and he did not know the nature of the secret. There had +been an understanding, of which he did not even yet know the nature, +between his wife and that base baronet. And then the terrible truth +of his memory added to his wounds. He thought of all the words that +had been spoken, and which he felt ought to have given her an +opportunity of telling the truth,—and would have done so had she not +purposely kept the secret. He had playfully asked her how it had been +that she had loved no other man, and then she had remained silent in +a manner which he now declared to himself to be equal to a falsehood. +And when he had been perfectly free with his own story, she had still +kept back hers. She had had her story, and had resolved that he +should not know it, even though he had been so open with his. He no +doubt had been open at a time when he had no right to expect her to +be equally so; but when the time did come then, then she had been a +traitor to him. When accepting his caresses, and returning them with +all a young wife's ardour, even at that moment she had been a traitor +to him. Though in his arms she had thought,—she must have continued +to think,—of some unholy compact which existed between her and Sir +Francis Geraldine. And even now she had not told him the nature of +that compact. Even now she might be corresponding with Sir Francis or +seeing him for aught that he knew to the contrary. How was it +possible that he should pardon a wife who had sinned against him as +she had sinned?</p> + +<p>And yet he was so far aware of his own weakness, as to admit to +himself that he would have taken her back to him if she had answered +his last letter in a contrite spirit and with affectionate words. He +would have endeavoured to forgive if not to forget, and would have +allowed himself to fall into the loving intimacy of domestic +life,—but that she was cold and indifferent, as well as treacherous. +So he told himself, keeping his wrath hot, though at the same time +his love nearly mastered him. But in truth he knew nothing of things +as they really were. He had made the mistake of drawing a false +conclusion from some words written by Sir Francis, and then of +looking upon those words as containing the whole truth. Sir Francis +had no doubt intended him to think that he and Cecilia Holt had come +to some rupture in their engagement from other than the real cause. +He had intended Mr. Western to believe that they had both agreed, and +that they had merely resolved between them that they had better not +be husband and wife. He had intended to convey the idea that he had +been more active in so arranging it than Cecilia herself. Cecilia +though she had read the letter had done so in such a frame of mind as +hardly to catch the truth. But he, Mr. Western, had caught it +altogether, and had believed it. Though he knew that the man was a +dishonest liar yet he had believed the letter. He was tortured at the +thought that his wife should have made herself a party to such a +compact, and that the compact should still have remained in existence +without his knowledge. Although there were hours during which he was +most anxious to return to her,—in which he told himself that it was +more difficult to stay away from her than even to endure her +faithlessness; though from day to day he became convinced that he +could never return to the haunts of men or even to the easy endurance +of life without her, yet his pride would ever come back to him and +assure him that as a reasonable man he was unable to put up with such +treachery. He had unfortunately been taught to think, by the +correspondence which had come from the matter of his cousin's racing +bet, that Sir Francis Geraldine was the very basest of mankind. It +was unfortunate because he had no doubt been induced to think worse +of his wife because she had submitted herself and continued to submit +herself to a man who was in his eyes so contemptible. He could not +endure the idea that a woman for whom such a partnership had had +charms should be the chosen companion of all his hours. He had +already lived with her for weeks which should have been enough to +teach him her character. During those weeks he had been satisfied to +the very full. He had assured himself frequently that he had at last +met a woman that suited him and made her his own. Had he known +nothing of Sir Francis Geraldine he would have been thoroughly +contented. Then had come the blow, and all his joys were "sicklied +over" with the unhealthy tone which his image of her former lover +gave him. She became at once to him a different creature. Though he +told himself that she was still the same Cecilia as had been his +delight, yet he told himself also that she was not the same as he had +fancied her when he at first knew her.</p> + +<p>There is in a man a pride of which a woman knows nothing. Or rather a +woman is often subject to pride the very opposite. The man delights +to think that he has been the first to reach the woman's heart. The +woman is rejoiced to feel that she owns permanently that which has +been often reached before. The man may know that in his own case it +is not so with him. But as there has been no concealment, or perhaps +only a little to conceal, he takes it as it comes and makes the best +of it. His Mary may have liked some other one, but it has not gone +farther. Or if she has been engaged as a bride there has been no +secret about it. Or it has been a thing long ago so that there has +been time for new ideas to form themselves. The husband when he does +come knows at any rate that he has no ground of complaint, and is not +kept specially in the dark when he takes his wife. But Mr. Western +had been kept specially in the dark, and was of all men the least +able to endure such treatment. To have been kept in the dark as to +the man with whom the girl was engaged, as he thought, at the very +moment in which she had accepted him! To have been made use of as a +step, on which a disadvantageous marriage might be avoided without +detriment to her own interest! It was this feeling which made him +utterly prostrate,—which told him that death itself would be the one +desirable way out of his difficulties if death were within his reach.</p> + +<p>When he received the letter from his sister telling him that he might +probably become the father of a child, he was at the first prepared +to say that thus would they two be reconciled. He could hardly live +apart, not only from the mother of his child, but from the child +itself. He went away into solitude and wept hot tears as he thought +of it all. But ever as he thought of it the cause of his anger came +back to him and made him declare to himself that in the indulgence of +no feeling of personal tenderness ought he to disgrace himself. At +any rate it could not be till she should have told him the whole +truth,—till she should have so told her story as to enable him to +ascertain whether that story were in all respects true. At present, +as he said to himself, he was altogether in the dark. But in fact had +he now learned the very story as it had existed, and had Cecilia told +it as far as she was able to tell it all, she would even in his +estimation have been completely white-washed. In her perfect +absolution from the terrible sin of which he now accused her he would +have forgiven and forgotten altogether the small, the trifling fault, +which she had in truth committed.</p> + +<p>There was something of nobility in all these feelings;—but then that +something was alloyed by much that was ignoble. He had resolved that +were she to come back to him she must come acknowledging the depth of +her sin. He would endeavour to forgive though he could not forget; +but he never thought to himself in these hours that it would be well +for him to be gracious in his manner of forgiveness. To go to her and +fetch her home to him, and say to her that all that was past should +be as a dream, a sad and ugly dream, but one to which no reality was +attached, never occurred to him. He must still be the master, and, in +order that his masterdom might be assured, full and abject confession +must be made. Yet he had such an idea of his wife, that he felt that +no such confession would be forthcoming, and therefore to him it +appeared ever more and more impossible that they two should again +come together.</p> + +<p>With Cecilia the matter was regarded with very different eyes. To +her, too, it was apparent that she had been treated with extremest +cruelty. She, too, was very hot in her anger. In discussing the +matter with herself, she allowed herself thoughts in which +indignation against her husband was maintained at a boiling heat. But +nevertheless she had quite resolved to forgive him altogether if he +would once come to her. And to insure her forgiveness no word even of +apology should be necessary. She knew that she would have to deal +with a man to whom the speaking of such words would be painful, and +none should be expected, none asked for. If he would but show her +that he still loved her, that should suffice. The world around them +would of course know that she had been sent away from him, and then +taken back. There was in this much that was painful,—a feeling full +of dismay as she reflected that all her friends, that her +acquaintance, that the very servants should know that she had been so +disgraced. But of all that she would take no notice,—no notice as +far as the outside world was concerned. Let them think, let them talk +as they would, she would then have her one great treasure with which +to console herself, and that treasure, if once more her own, would +suffice for her happiness. In her hottest anger she told herself from +time to time that her anger would all depart from her,—that it would +be made to vanish from her as by a magician's wand,—if she could +only once more be allowed to feel his arm round her waist.</p> + +<p>In all this she had no friend with whom to discuss either her anger +or her hopes. Her mother she knew shared her anger to the full, but +entertained hopes altogether different. Her desires were so different +that they hardly amounted to hopes. Yes, he might be allowed to +return, but with words of absolute contrition, with words which +should always be remembered against him. Such would have been Mrs. +Holt's expression as to the state of things had she ventured to +express herself. But she understood enough of her daughter's feelings +to repress them.</p> + +<p>The only person who sympathised with Cecilia and her present +condition was the girl who had once before evoked from her so strong +a feeling of tenderness. She did know that the man had to be +forgiven, terrible as had been his sin, and that nothing more was to +be said about it. "Oh, ma'am," she said, "he'll come back now! I'm +sure he'll come back now, and never more have any of them silly +vagaries."</p> + +<p>"Who can say what vagaries a man may choose to indulge?"</p> + +<p>"That's true too, ma'am. That any man should have had such a vagary +as this! But he's dying to come back. I'm sure of it. And when he +does come and finds that he's let to come quiet, and that he's asked +to say nothing as he don't like, and that you are all smiles to him +and kindness,—and then with the baby coming and all,—my belief is +that he'll be happier then than he was even the first day when he had +you." This, though spoken in rough language, so exactly expressed +Cecilia's wishes, that she did feel that her maid at least entirely +sympathised with her.</p> + + +<p><a name="c19" id="c19"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3> +<h4>DICK TAKES HIS FINAL LEAVE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>When Sir Francis received the reply which Miss Altifiorla sent to his +letter, he was not altogether satisfied with it. He had expected that +the lady would at once have flown into his arms. But the lady seemed +to hesitate, and asked for a week to think about it. This showed so +much ingratitude on her part,—was so poor an acknowledgment of the +position which he had offered her, that he was inclined to be +indignant. <span class="nowrap">"D——</span> it; +if she don't care about it she sha'n't have +it." It was thus that he expressed himself aloud in the hearing of +Dick Ross; but without however explaining who the she was, or what +the it was, or indeed in any way asking Dick's opinion on the matter. +Not the less had Miss Altifiorla been wise in the nature of the reply +which she had given. Had she expressed her warm affection, and at +once accepted all that had been proffered, the gentleman would +probably have learnt at once to despise that which had been obtained +so easily. As it was he was simply cross, and thought that he had +determined to withdraw the proposal. But still the other letter was +to come, and Miss Altifiorla's chance was still open to her.</p> + +<p>The immediate consequence of these doubts in the mind of Sir Francis +was a postponement of the verdict of banishment which he had resolved +to pronounce against Dick as soon as his marriage with Miss +Altifiorla should have been settled. He did not wish to leave himself +altogether alone in the world, and if this Dick were dismissed it +would be necessary that he should provide himself with +another,—unless he were minded to provide himself with a wife +instead. He became therefore gradually more gracious after the little +speech which has been above given. Dick had understood perfectly who +the "she" had been, and what was the "it" intended. As no question +had been asked he had made no reply, but he was quite quick enough to +perceive the working of the Baronet's mind. He despised the Baronet +almost as thoroughly as did Mr. Western. But for certain +purposes,—as to which he despised himself also,—the friendship of +the Baronet suited him just at present.</p> + +<p>One morning, for private reasons of his own, Dick went into Perth, +which was twenty miles distant from the Baronet's shooting lodge, and +returned the same day bringing the postbag with him from a point in +the road at which it was daily left by the postman. Sir Francis with +unusual haste read his letters, and among them was one from Miss +Altifiorla. But Dick had a budget of news which he was anxious to +reveal, and which he did tell before Sir Francis had said anything as +to his own letter. There was another friend, one Captain Fawkes, at +the Lodge with them, and Dick had at first been restrained by this +man's presence. As soon as he found himself alone with Sir Francis he +began. "Lady Grant has gone off to Dresden," he said.</p> + +<p>"Where did you hear that?" asked the Baronet.</p> + +<p>"They told me so at the club. Everybody in Perth knows that she has +gone;—and why."</p> + +<p>"What business is it of theirs? Since you know so much about it, why +has she gone?"</p> + +<p>"To persuade her brother to come home and take his wife once more. It +was an infernal shame that they should ever have been separated. In +fact she has gone to undo what you did. If she can only succeed in +making the man know the whole truth about it, free from all lies, +she'll do what she's gone to do."</p> + +<p>"What the devil do you mean by lies?" said Sir Francis, rising in +wrath from his chair.</p> + +<p>"Well; lies mean lies. As I haven't applied the word to anyone I +suppose I may be allowed to use it and to stand by it. I suppose you +know what lies mean, and I suppose you are aware that Western has +been made to believe lies about his wife."</p> + +<p>"Who told them?"</p> + +<p>"I say nothing about that," said Dick. "Lies are a sort of thing +which are very commonly told, and are ordinarily ascribed to the +world at large. The world never quarrels with the accusation. The +world has told most infernal lies to this man about his wife. I don't +suppose the world means to call me out for saying as much as that." +Then the two remained silent for some moments and Dick proceeded with +his eloquence. "Of course there have been lies,—damnable lies. Had a +man, or a woman,—it's all one,—gone to that poor creature with a +pistol in his hand and blown her brains out he wouldn't have done a +more dastardly action."</p> + +<p>"What the devil do you mean by that?" said the other.</p> + +<p>"I'm not talking about you,—specially. I say lies have been told; +but I do not say who has told them. I rather suspect a woman to be at +the bottom of it." Sir Francis who had in his pocket a most tender +and loving reply from Miss Altifiorla knew very well who was the lady +to whom Dick referred. "That man has been made to believe certain +things about his wife which are all lies,—lies from beginning to +end."</p> + +<p>"He has been made to believe that she was engaged to me first. Is +that a lie?"</p> + +<p>"That depends on the way in which it was told. He didn't send her +home merely for that. I am not saying what the lies were, but they +were damnable lies. You sometimes tell me that I ain't any better +than another,—or generally a great deal worse. But I'd rather have +blown my brains out than have told such lies about a woman as have +been told here by somebody. You ask me what they were saying at the +club in Perth. Now you know it pretty well all."</p> + +<p>It must be supposed that what had passed at the club had induced Dick +to determine that it would no longer become him to remain with Sir +Francis as his humble friend. Very evil things had in truth been said +of Sir Francis, and they were more than Dick could endure. The +natural indignation of the man was aroused, so that by degrees it had +come to pass that he hated the Baronet. He had before said very sharp +words to him, but had now gone home resolved in his righteous mind to +bring things to a conclusion. It matters little in the telling of our +story to know what lies Dick did in truth impute to his friend; but +they were of a nature to fill his mind with righteous wrath and to +produce from him the eloquence above described.</p> + +<p>Sir Francis, whose vanity had been charmed by the letter which he +kept in his pocket, had already made up his mind to part with Dick. +But Dick's words as now spoken left him no alternative. It was a +question with him whether he could not so part with him as to inflict +some further punishment. "Why, Dick," he said smiling, "you have +broken out quite in a new place."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about that."</p> + +<p>"You must have been with the Bishop and taken a lesson in preaching. +I never heard you come out so strong before."</p> + +<p>"I wish you'd heard what some of those men at Perth said about you."</p> + +<p>"And how you answered them as my friend."</p> + +<p>"As far as I remember I didn't say much myself. What I did say +certainly was not in your favour. But I was hardest on that sweet +young lady with the Italian name. You won't mind that because you and +she are two, now."</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me, Ross, how long you have been eating my bread?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I could."</p> + +<p>"Or how much you have drank of my wine?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't made a calculation of that nature. It isn't usual."</p> + +<p>"For shooting here, how much have you ever contributed?"</p> + +<p>"When I shoot I contribute nothing. All the world understands that."</p> + +<p>"How much money do you owe me?"</p> + +<p>"I owe you nothing that I've ever promised to pay."</p> + +<p>"And now you think it a sign of a fine gentleman to go and talk +openly at a club about matters which you have heard from me in +confidence! I don't. I think it a +<span class="nowrap">very—"</span></p> + +<p>"A very what, Sir Francis? I have not done as you allege. But you +were going to observe a very—; what was it?" It must be here +explained that Dick Ross was not a man who feared many things; but +that Sir Francis feared much. Dick had little to lose by a row, +whereas the Baronet would be injured. The Baronet therefore declined +to fill in the epithet which he had omitted. He knew from former +experience what Dick would and what he would not bear.</p> + +<p>"I don't choose to descend to Billingsgate," said Sir Francis. "I +have my own ideas as to your conduct."</p> + +<p>"Very gentlemanlike, isn't it?" said Dick, with a smile, meaning +thereby to impute it to Sir Francis as cowardice that he was +unwilling to say the reverse.</p> + +<p>"But, under all the circumstances, it will be quite as well that you +should leave the Lodge. You must feel that yourself."</p> + +<p>"Oh; quite so. I am delighted to think that I shall be able to leave +without having had any unpleasant words. Perhaps to-morrow will do?"</p> + +<p>"Just as you please."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall be able to add a few drops to all those buckets of +claret which you threw in my teeth just now. I wonder whether any +gentleman was ever before asked by another gentleman how much wine he +had drank in his house, or how many dinners he had eaten. When you +asked me did you expect me to pay for my dinners and wine?" Sir +Francis refused to make any reply to this question. "And when you +delicately hinted at my poverty, had you found my finances to be +lower than you'd always known them? It is disagreeable to be a +penniless younger brother. I have found it so all my life. And I +admit that I ought to have earned my bread. It would have been much +better for me had I done so. People may declare that I am good for +nothing, and may hold me up as an example to be shunned. But I +flatter myself that nobody has called me a blackguard. I have told no +lies to injure men behind their backs;—much less have I done so to +injure a woman. I have sacrificed no girl to my revenge, simply +because she has thrown me over. In the little transactions I have had +I have always run straight. Now I think that upon the whole I had +better go before dinner, and not add anything to the bucket of +claret."</p> + +<p>"Just as you please," said Sir Francis. Then Dick Ross left the room +and went away to make such arrangements for his departure as were +possible to him, and the readers of this story shall see him and hear +him no more.</p> + +<p>Sir Francis when he was left alone took out Miss Altifiorla's letter +and read it again. He was a man who could assume grand manners in his +personal intercourse with women, but was peculiarly apt to receive +impression from them. He loved to be flattered, and was prone to +believe anything good of himself that was said to him by one of them. +He therefore took the following letter for more than it was +worth.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Sir +Francis</span>,—I know that you will have been quite +quick enough to have understood when you received my +former little scrawl what my answer would be. When a woman +attempts to deceive a man in such a matter she knows +beforehand that the attempt will be vain; and I certainly +did not think that I could succeed with you. But yet a +feeling of shamefacedness,—what some ladies consider as +modesty, though it might more properly be called <i>mauvaise +honte</i>,—forced me into temporary silence. What could I +wish better than to be loved by such a one as you? In the +first place there is the rank which goes for much with me. +Then there is the money, which I admit counts for +something. I would never have allowed myself to marry even +if I had chanced to love a poor man. Then there are the +manners, and the peculiar station before the world, which +is quite separate from the rank. To me these alone are +irresistible. Shall I say too that personal appearance +does count for much. I can fancy myself marrying an ugly +man, but I can fancy also that I could not do it without +something of disgust.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">Miss Altifiorla when she wrote +this had understood well that vanity +and love of flattery were conspicuous traits in the character of her +admirer.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">Having owned so much, what is there more +to say than that +I am the happiest woman between the seas?<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>The reader must be here told that this letter had been copied out a +second time because in the first copy she had allowed the word girl +to pass in the above sentence. Something told her that she had better +write woman instead, and she had written it.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>What more is there for me to add to the above except to +tell you that I love you with all my heart. Months +ago,—it seems to be years now,—when Cecilia Holt had +caught your fancy, I did regard her as the most fortunate +girl. But I did not regard you as the happiest of men, +because I felt sure that there was a something between you +which would not suit. There is an asperity, rather than +strictness, about her which I knew your spirit would not +brook. She would have borne the battlings which would have +arisen with an equal temper. She can indeed bear all +things with equanimity—as she does her present position. +But you, though you would have battled and have conquered, +would still have suffered. I do not think that the wife +you now desire is one with whom you will have to wage war. +Shall I say that if you marry her whom you have now asked +to join her lot with yours, there will be no such +fighting? I think that I shall know how to hold my own +against the world as your wife. But with you I shall only +attempt to hold my own by making myself one with you in +all your desires and aspirations.</p> + +<p>I am yours with all my heart, with all my body and soul.</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Francesca</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">I say nothing +now about the immediate future, but I hope +it will please your highness to visit your most worthy +clerical relations in this cathedral city before long. I +shall say nothing to any of your clerical relations as to +my prospects in life until I shall have received your +sanction for doing so. But the sooner I do receive it the +better for my peace of mind.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Sir Francis was upon the whole delighted with the letter, and the +more delighted as he now read it for the third time. "There is such +an air of truth in every word of it." It was thus that he spoke to +himself about the letter as he sucked in the flattery. It was thus +that Miss Altifiorla had intended that he should receive it. She knew +herself too well to suspect that her flattery should fail. Not a word +of it failed. In nothing was he more gratified than in her allusions +to his matrimonial efforts with Miss Holt. She had assured him that +he would have finally conquered that strong-minded young woman. But +she had at the same time told him of the extreme tenderness of his +heart. He absolutely believed her when she whispered to him her +secret,—that she had envied Cecilia her lot when Cecilia was +supposed to be the happy bride. He quite understood those allusions +to his own pleasures and her assurance that she would never interfere +with him. There was just a doubt whether a thing so easily got could +be worth the keeping. But then he remembered his cousin and +determined to be a man of his word.</p> + + +<p><a name="c20" id="c20"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3> +<h4>THE SECRET ESCAPES.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>"All right. See you soon. Ever yours, F. G." Such was the entire +response which Miss Altifiorla received from her now declared lover. +Sir Francis had told himself that he hated the bother of writing +love-letters. But in truth there was with him also an idea that it +might be as well that he should not commit himself to declarations +that were in their nature very strong. It was not that he absolutely +thought of any possible future event in which his letters might be +used against him, but there was present to him a feeling that the +least said might be the soonest mended.</p> + +<p>Miss Altifiorla when she received the above scrawl was quite +satisfied with it. She, too, was cautious in her nature, but not +quite so clever as her lover. She did, indeed, feel that she had now +caught her fish. She would not let him escape by any such folly as +that which Cecilia Holt had committed. The Baronet should be allowed +his full swing till she was entitled to call herself Lady Geraldine. +Then, perhaps, there might be a tussle between them as to which +should have his own way,—or hers. The great thing at present was to +obtain the position, and she did feel that she had played her cards +uncommonly well as far as the game had gone at present.</p> + +<p>But there came upon her an irresistible temptation to make her +triumph known among her friends at Exeter. All her girl friends had +got themselves married. There was Mrs. Green, and Mrs. Thorne, and +Mrs. Western. Poor Cecilia had not gained much, but still she was +Mrs. Western. Miss Altifiorla did in truth regard herself as Miss +Altifiorla with but small satisfaction. She had her theories about +women's rights, and the decided advantages of remaining single, and +the sufficiency of a lady to stand alone in the world. There was +probably some vague glimmering of truth in her ideas; some +half-formed belief in her own doctrine. But still it had ever been an +uncomfortable creed, and one which she was ready to desert at the +slightest provocation. Her friends had all deserted it, and had left +her as we say high and dry on the barren bank, while they had been +carried away by the fertilising stream. She, too, would now swim down +the river of matrimony with a beautiful name, and a handle to it, as +the owner of a fine family property. Women's rights was an excellent +doctrine to preach, but for practice could not stand the strain of +such temptation. And though in boasting of her good fortune she must +no doubt confess that she had been wrong, still there would be much +more of glory than of shame in the confession.</p> + +<p>It was chance probably that made her tell her secret in the first +instance to Mrs. Thorne. Mrs. Thorne had been Maude Hippesley and was +niece to Sir Francis Geraldine. Miss Altifiorla had pledged herself +to Sir Francis not to make known her engagement at the Deanery. But +such pledges go for very little. Mrs. Thorne was not now an +inhabitant of Exeter, and was, so to say, the most bosom-friend left +to her,—after her disruption from Mrs. Western. Was it probable that +such a secret should be kept from a bosom-friend? Mrs. Thorne who had +a large circle of friends in the county would hardly have admitted +the claim, but she would be more likely to do so after receiving the +intimation. Of course it would be conveyed under the seal of a sacred +promise,—which no doubt would be broken as soon as she reached the +Deanery. On this occasion she called on Miss Altifiorla to ask +questions in reference to "poor Cecilia." With herself and the Dean +and Mrs. Dean there was real sorrow at Cecilia's troubles. And there +was also no mode of acquiring true information. "Do tell me something +about poor Cecilia," said Mrs. Thorne.</p> + +<p>"Poor Cecilia, indeed! She is there all alone and sees almost no one. +Of course you've heard that Lady Grant was here."</p> + +<p>"We thought it so nice of Lady Grant to come all the way from +Scotland to see her sister-in-law."</p> + +<p>"Lady Grant of course is anxious to get her brother to take back his +wife. They haven't a great deal of money among them, and when Mrs. +Holt dies Cecilia's fortune would be a nice addition."</p> + +<p>"I don't think Lady Grant can have thought of that," said Mrs. +Thorne.</p> + +<p>"Lady Grant would be quite prudent in thinking of it and like the +rest of the world. Her husband was only a regimental officer in India +who got knighted for doing something that came in his way. There +isn't any family property among them, and of course she is anxious."</p> + +<p>This solicitude as to "family property" on the part of Miss +Altifiorla did strike Mrs. Thorne as droll. But she went on with her +inquiries. "And what is Cecilia doing?"</p> + +<p>"Not very much," said Miss Altifiorla. "What is there for her to do? +Poor girl! She has played her cards so uncommonly badly, when she +took up with Mr. Western after having been dropped by Sir Francis."</p> + +<p>"After dropping Sir Francis!"</p> + +<p>Miss Altifiorla smiled. Was it likely that Cecilia Holt should have +dropped Sir Francis? "It doesn't much matter now. If it does her +wounded pride good to say so of course she can say it."</p> + +<p>"We always believed that it was so at the Deanery."</p> + +<p>"At any rate she made a mess of it. And now she has to bear the +fortune which her fates have sent her. I own that I am a little angry +with Cecilia, not for having dropped Sir Francis as you called it, +but for managing her matters so badly with Mr. Western. She seems to +me to have no idea of the sort of duties which fall to the lot of a +wife."</p> + +<p>"I should have thought you'd have liked her the better for that," +said Mrs. Thorne, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Why so? I think you must have misunderstood my theory of life. When +a woman elects to marry, and does so from sheer love and regard for +the man, she should certainly make her duty to him the first motive +of all her actions."</p> + +<p>"What a grand lesson! It is a pity that my husband should not be here +to hear it."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt he finds that you do so."</p> + +<p>"Or Sir Francis Geraldine. I suppose my uncle is still in search of a +wife, and if he knew where to find such excellent principles he would +be able to make his choice. What a joke it would be should he again +try his luck at Exeter?"</p> + +<p>"He has again tried his luck at Exeter," said Miss Altifiorla, in a +tone in which some slight shade of ridicule was mixed with the +grandiloquence which she wished to assume.</p> + +<p>"What on earth do you mean?" said Mrs. Thorne.</p> + +<p>"Simply what I seem to mean. I had not intended to have told you at +present, though I would sooner tell you than any person living. You +must promise me, however, that it shall go no further. Sir Francis +Geraldine has done me the honour to ask me to be his wife." Thus she +communicated her good news; and did so in a tone of voice that was +very low, and intended to be humble.</p> + +<p>"My uncle going to marry you? Good gracious!"</p> + +<p>"Is it more wonderful than that he should have thought of marrying +Cecilia Holt?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes. Not that I know why it should be, except that Cecilia +came first, and that you and she were so intimate."</p> + +<p>"Was he doomed to remain alone in the world because of that?" asked +Miss Altifiorla.</p> + +<p>"Well, no; I don't exactly mean that. But it is droll."</p> + +<p>"I hope that the Dean and Mrs. Hippesley will be satisfied with his +choice. I do particularly hope that all his friends will feel that he +is doing well. But," she added, perceiving that her tidings had not +been received with any strong expression of family satisfaction—"but +I trust that, as Lady Geraldine, I may at any rate be the means of +keeping the family together."</p> + +<p>There was to Mrs. Thorne almost a joke in this, as she knew that her +father did not at all approve of Sir Francis, and was with difficulty +induced to have him at the Deanery. And she knew also that the Dean +did in his heart greatly dislike Miss Altifiorla, though for the sake +of what was generally called "peace within the cathedral precincts," +he had hitherto put up also with her. What might happen in the Dean's +mind, or what determination the Dean might take when the two should +be married, she could not say. But she felt that it might probably be +beyond the power of the then Lady Geraldine "to keep the family +together." "Well, I am surprised," said Mrs. Thorne. "And I am to +tell nobody."</p> + +<p>"I don't see any good in publishing the thing in High Street just at +present." Then Mrs. Thorne understood that she need not treat the +communication as a strict secret. "In fact, I don't see why it should +be kept specially in the dark. Francis has not enjoined anything like +secrecy." This was the first time that she had allowed herself the +use of the Baronet's name without the prefix. "When it is to be I +have not as yet even begun to think. Of course he is in a hurry. Men, +I believe, generally are. But in this case there may be some reasons +for delay. Arrangements as to the family property must be made, and +Castle Gerald must be prepared for our reception. I don't suppose we +can be married just off hand, like some happier folks." Mrs. Thorne +did not know whether to take this to herself, as she had been married +herself at last rather in a scramble, or whether it was intended to +apply to poor Cecilia, whose husband, though he was in comfortable +circumstances, cannot be said to have possessed family property. "And +now, dear;" continued Miss Altifiorla, "what am I to do for +bridesmaids? You three have all been married before me. There are his +two unmarried sisters of course." Mrs. Thorne was aware that her +uncle had absolutely quarrelled with his mother and sisters, and had +not spoken to them for years. "I suppose that it will come off in the +cathedral, and that your father will perform the ceremony. I don't +know, indeed, whether Francis might not wish to have the Bishop." +Mrs. Thorne was aware that the Bishop, who was a strict man, would +not touch Sir Francis Geraldine with a pair of tongs. "But all these +things will shake themselves down comfortably no doubt. In the +meantime I am in a twitter of ecstatic happiness. You, who have gone +through it all, will quite understand what I mean. It seems that as a +lover he is the most exigeant of gentlemen. He requires constant +writing to, and woe betide me if I do not obey his behests. However, +I do not complain, and must confess that I am at the present moment +the most happy of young women."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Thorne of course expressed her congratulations, and took her +departure without having committed herself to a word as to the other +inhabitants of the Deanery. But when she got to her father's house, +where she was for the present staying, she in truth startled them all +by the news. The Dean had just come into the drawing-room to have his +afternoon tea and a little gossip with his wife and his own sister, +Mrs. Forrester, from London. "Who do you think is going to be +married, and to whom?" said Mrs. Thorne. "I'll give you all three +guesses apiece, and bet you a pair of gloves all round that you don't +make it out."</p> + +<p>"Not Miss Altifiorla?" said her mother.</p> + +<p>"That's only one. A marriage requires two personages. I still hold +good by my bet."</p> + +<p>"Miss Altifiorla going to be married!" said the Dean. "Who is the +unfortunate victim?"</p> + +<p>"Papa, do not be ill-natured. Why should not Miss Altifiorla be +married as well as another?"</p> + +<p>"In the first place, my dear," said Mrs. Forrester, "because I +understand that the lady has always expressed herself as being in +favour of a single life."</p> + +<p>"I go beyond that," said the Dean, "and maintain that any single life +would be preferable to a marriage with Miss Altifiorla."</p> + +<p>"Considering that she is my friend, papa, I think that you are very +unkind."</p> + +<p>"But who is to be the gentleman?" asked her mother.</p> + +<p>"Ah! there's the question! Why don't you guess?" Then Mrs. Dean did +name three or four of the most unpromising unmarried elderly +gentlemen in Exeter, and the Dean, in that spirit of satire against +his own order which is common among clergymen, suggested an old +widowed Minor Canon, who was in the habit of chanting the Litany. +"You are none of you near the mark. You ought to come nearer home."</p> + +<p>"Nearer home?" said Mrs. Dean with a look of discomfort in her face.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma. A great deal nearer home."</p> + +<p>"It can't be your Uncle Septimus," said the Dean. Now Uncle Septimus +was the unmarried brother of old Mr. Thorne, and was regarded by all +the Thorne family as a perfect model of an unselfish, fine old +lovable gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Good gracious, no!" said Mrs. Thorne. "What a horrible idea! Fancy +Uncle Septimus doomed to pass his life in company with Miss +Altifiorla! The happy man in question is—Sir Francis Geraldine."</p> + +<p>"No!" said Mrs. Hippesley, jumping from her seat.</p> + +<p>"It is impossible," said the Dean, who, though he greatly disliked +his brother-in-law, still thought something of the family into which +he had married, and thoroughly despised Miss Altifiorla. "I do not +think that Sir Francis could be so silly as that."</p> + +<p>"It cannot be," said Mrs. Hippesley.</p> + +<p>"What has the young lady done to make it impossible?" asked Mrs. +Forrester.</p> + +<p>"Nothing on earth," said Mrs. Thorne. "She is my special friend and +is in my opinion a great deal more than worthy of my uncle Francis. +Only papa, who dislikes them both, would like to make it out that the +two of them are going to cut their own throats each by marrying the +other. I wish papa could have heard the way in which she said that he +would have to marry them,—unless the Bishop should like to come +forward and perform the ceremony."</p> + +<p>"I shall do nothing of the kind," said the Dean angrily.</p> + +<p>"If you had heard," continued his daughter, "all that she had to say +about the family name and the family property, and the family +grandeur generally, you would have thought her the most becoming +young woman in the country to be the future Lady Geraldine."</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't talk of it, my dear," said Mrs. Hippesley.</p> + +<p>"We shall have to talk of it, and had better become used to it among +ourselves. I don't suppose that Miss Altifiorla has invented the +story out of her own head. She would not say that she was engaged to +marry my uncle if it were not true."</p> + +<p>"It's my belief," said the Dean, getting up and walking out of the +room in great anger, "that Sir Francis Geraldine will never marry +Miss Altifiorla."</p> + +<p>"I don't think my brother will ever marry Miss Altifiorla," said Mrs. +Dean. "He is very silly and very vicious, but I don't think he'll +ever do anything so bad as that."</p> + +<p>"Poor Miss Altifiorla!" said Mrs. Thorne afterwards to her Aunt +Forrester.</p> + +<p>That same evening Miss Altifiorla, feeling that she had broken the +ice, and, oppressed by the weight of the secret which was a secret +still in every house in Exeter except the Deanery, wrote to her other +friend Mrs. Green, and begged her to come down. She had tidings to +tell of the greatest importance. So Mrs. Green put on her bonnet and +came down. "My dear," said Miss Altifiorla, "I have something to tell +you. I am going to <span class="nowrap">be—"</span></p> + +<p>"Not married!" said Mrs. Green.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am. How very odd that you should guess. But yet when I come +to think of it I don't know that it is odd. Because after all there +does come a time in,—a lady's life when it is probable that she will +marry." Miss Altifiorla hesitated, having in the first instance +desired to use the word girl.</p> + +<p>"That's as may be," said Mrs. Green. "Your principles used to be on +the other side."</p> + +<p>"Of course all that changes when the opportunity comes. It wasn't so +much that I disliked the idea of marriage, for myself, as that I was +proud of the freedom which I enjoyed. However that is all over. I am +free no longer."</p> + +<p>"And who is it to be?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, who is it to be? Can you make a guess?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. I don't know of anybody who has been spooning +you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a term to use! No one can say that anyone ever—spooned me. +It is a horrible word. And I cannot bear to hear it fall from my own +lips."</p> + +<p>"It is what young men do do," said Mrs. Green.</p> + +<p>"That I think depends on the rank in life which the young men +occupy;—and also the young women. I can understand that a Bank clerk +should do it to an attorney's daughter."</p> + +<p>"Well; who is it you are going to marry without spooning, which in my +vocabulary is simply another word for two young people being fond of +each other?" Miss Altifiorla remained silent for a while, feeling +that she owed it to herself to awe her present companion by her +manner before she should crush her altogether by the weight of the +name she would have to pronounce. Mrs. Green had received her +communication flippantly, and had probably felt that her friend +intended to demean herself by some mere common marriage. "Who is to +be the happy swain?" asked Mrs. Green.</p> + +<p>"Swain!" said Miss Altifiorla, unable to repress her feelings.</p> + +<p>"Well; lover, young man, suitor, husband as is to be. Some word +common on such occasion will I suppose fit him?"</p> + +<p>Miss Altifiorla felt that no word common on such occasions would fit +him. But yet it was necessary that she should name him, having gone +so far. And, having again been silent for a minute, so as to bethink +herself in what most dignified language this might be done, she +proceeded. "I am to be allied,"—again there was a little pause,—"to +Sir Francis Geraldine!"</p> + +<p>"Him Cecilia Holt rejected!"</p> + +<p>"Him who I think was fortunate enough to escape Cecilia Holt."</p> + +<p>"Goodness gracious! It seems but the other day."</p> + +<p>"Cecilia Holt has since recovered from her wounds and married another +husband, and is now suffering from fresh wounds. Is it odd that the +gentleman should have found some one else to love when the lady has +had time not only to love but to marry, and to be separated from +another man?"</p> + +<p>"Sir Francis Geraldine!" ejaculated Mrs. Green. "Well; I'm sure I +wish you all the joy in the world. When is it to be?" But Mrs. Green +had so offended Miss Altifiorla by her manner of accepting the news +that she could not bring herself to make any further gracious answer. +Mrs. Green therefore took her leave, and the fact of Miss +Altifiorla's engagement was soon known all over Exeter.</p> + + +<p><a name="c21" id="c21"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXI.</h3> +<h4>LADY GRANT AT DRESDEN.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>"You have first to believe the story as I tell it you, and get out of +your head altogether the story as you have conceived it." This was +said by Lady Grant to her brother when she had travelled all the way +to Dresden with the purpose of inducing him to take his wife back. +She had come there solely with that object, and it must be said of +her that she had well done her duty as a sister. But she found it by +no means easy to induce her brother to look at the matter with her +eyes. In fact, it was evident to her that he did not believe the +story as she had told it. She must go on and din it into his ears +till by perseverance she should change his belief. He still thought +that credit should be given to that letter from Sir Francis, although +he was aware that to Sir Francis himself as a man he would have given +no credit whatsoever. It had suited his suspicions to believe that +there had been something in common between Sir Francis and his wife +up to the moment in which the terrible fact of her engagement had +been made known to him; and from that belief he could not free his +mind. He had already been persuaded to say that she should come back +to him; but she should come as a sinner confessing her sin. He would +take her back, but as one whom he had been justified in expelling, +and to whom he should be held as extending great mercy.</p> + +<p>But Lady Grant would not accept of his mercy, nor would she encourage +her coming back with such a purpose. It would not be good in the +first place for him that he should think that his wife had been an +offender. His future happiness must depend on his fixed belief in her +purity and truth. And, as for her,—Lady Grant was sure that no +entreaties would induce her to own that she had been in the wrong. +She desired to have no pardon asked, but would certainly ask for no +pardon on her own behalf.</p> + +<p>"Why was it that he came, then, to my house?" asked Mr. Western.</p> + +<p>"Am I, or rather is she, to account for the conduct of such a man as +that? Are you to make her responsible for his behaviour?"</p> + +<p>"She was engaged to him."</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly. It should have been told to you,—though I can +understand the reasons which kept her silent from day to day. The +time will come when you will understand it also, and know, as I do, +how gracious and how feminine has been her silence." Then there came +across her brother's face a look of doubt as indicating his feeling +that nothing could have justified her silence. "Yes, George; the time +will come that you will understand her altogether although you are +far from doing so now."</p> + +<p>"I believe you think her to be perfect," said he.</p> + +<p>"Hardly perfect, because she is a human being. But although I know +her virtues I have not known her faults. It may be that she is too +proud,—a little unwilling, perhaps, to bend. Most women will bend +whether they be in fault or not. But would you wish your wife to do +so?"</p> + +<p>"I, at any rate, have not asked her."</p> + +<p>"You, at any rate, have not given her the opportunity. My accusation +against you is, that you sent her away from you on an accusation made +solely by that man, and without waiting to hear from herself whether +she would plead guilty to it."</p> + +<p>"I deny it."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I hear your denial. But you will have to acknowledge it, at any +rate to yourself, before you can ever hope to be a happy man."</p> + +<p>"When he wrote to me, I believed the whole story to be a lie from +first to last."</p> + +<p>"And when you found that it was not all a lie, then it became to you +a gospel throughout. You could not understand that the very faults +which had induced her to break her engagement were of a nature to +make him tell his story untruly."</p> + +<p>"When she acknowledged herself to have been engaged to him it nearly +broke my heart."</p> + +<p>"Just so. And, with your heart broken, you would not sift the truth. +She had committed no offence against you in engaging herself."</p> + +<p>"She should have told me as soon as we knew each other."</p> + +<p>"She should have told you before she accepted your offer. But she had +been deterred from doing so by your own revelation to her. You cannot +believe that she intended you always to be in the dark. You cannot +imagine that she had expected that you should never hear of her +adventure with Sir Francis Geraldine."</p> + +<p>"I do not know."</p> + +<p>"I had heard it, and she knew that I had heard it."</p> + +<p>"Why did you not tell me, then?"</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose that I wished to interfere between you and your wife? +Of course I told her that you ought to know. Of course I told her +that you ought to have known it already. But she excused +herself,—with great sorrow. Things had presented themselves in such +a way that the desired opportunity of telling you had never come." He +shook his head. "I tell you that it was so, and you are bound to +believe it of one of whom in all other respects you had thought +well;—of one who loved you with the fondest devotion. Instead of +that there came this man with his insidious falsehoods, with his +implied lies; this man, of whom you have always thought so +badly;—and him you believed instead! I tell you that you can justify +yourself before no human being. You were not entitled to repudiate +your wife for such offence as she had committed, you are not entitled +even had there been no mutual affection to bind you together. How +much less so in your present condition,—and in hers. People will +only excuse you by saying that you were mad. And now in order to put +yourself right, you expect that she shall come forward, and own +herself to have been the cause of this misfortune. I tell you that +she will not do it. I would not even ask her to do it;—not for her +sake, nor for your own."</p> + +<p>"I am then to go," said he, "and grovel in the dust before her feet."</p> + +<p>"There need be no grovelling. There need be no confessions."</p> + +<p>"How then?"</p> + +<p>"Go to Exeter, and simply take her. Disregard what all the world may +say, for the sake of her happiness and for your own. She will make no +stipulation. She will simply throw herself into your arms with +unaffected love. Do not let her have to undergo the suffering of +bringing forth your child without the comfort of knowing that you are +near to her." Then she left him to think in solitude over the words +she had spoken to him.</p> + +<p>He did think of them. But he found it to be impossible to put +absolute faith in them. It was not that he thought that his sister +was deceiving him, that he distrusted her who had taken this long +journey at great personal trouble altogether on his behalf; but that +he could not bring himself to believe that he himself had been so +cruel as to reject his young wife without adequate cause. It had +gradually come across his mind that he had been most cruel, most +unjust,—if he had done so; and to this judgment, passed by himself +on himself, he would not submit. In concealing her engagement she had +been very wrong, but it must be that she had concealed more than her +engagement. And to have been engaged to such a man added much to the +fault in his estimation. He would not acknowledge that she had been +deceived as to the man's character and had set herself right before +it was too late. Why had the man come to his house and asked for +him,—after what had passed between them,—if not in compliance with +some understanding between him and her? But yet he would take her +back if she would confess her fault and beg his pardon,—for then he +would be saved the disgrace of having to acknowledge that he had been +in fault from the first.</p> + +<p>His sister left him alone without saying a word on the subject for +twenty-four hours, and then again attacked him. "George," she said, +"I must go back to-morrow. I have left my children all alone and +cannot stay longer away from them."</p> + +<p>"Must you go to-morrow?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, yes. Had not the matter been one of almost more than life +and death I should not have come. Am I to return and feel that my +journey has been for nothing?"</p> + +<p>"What would you have me do?"</p> + +<p>"Return with me, and go at once to Exeter."</p> + +<p>He almost tore his hair in his agony as he walked about the room +before he replied to her. But she remained silent, watching him. "You +must leave me here till I think about it."</p> + +<p>"Then I might as well not have come at all," she said.</p> + +<p>He moved about the room in an agony of spirit. He knew it to be +essential to his future happiness in life that he should be the +master in his own house. And he felt that he could not be so unless +he should be known to have been right in this terrible misfortune +with which their married life had been commenced. There was no +obliterating it, no forgetting it, no ignoring it. He had in his +passion sent her away from him, and, passionately, she had withdrawn. +Let them not say a word about it, there would still have been this +terrible event in both their memories. And for himself he knew that +unless it could be settled from the first that he had acted with +justice, his life would be intolerable to him. He was a man, and it +behoved him to have been just. She was a woman, and the feeling of +having had to be forgiven would not be so severe with her. She, when +taken a second time into grace and pardoned, might still rejoice and +be happy. But for himself, he reminded himself over and over again +that he was a man, and assured himself that he could never lift up +his head were he by his silence to admit that he had been in the +wrong.</p> + +<p>But still his mind was changed,—was altogether changed by the coming +of his sister. Till she had come all had been a blank with him, in +which no light had been possible. He could see no life before him but +one in which he should be constantly condemned by his fellow-men +because of his cruelty to his young wife. Men would not stop to ask +whether he had been right or wrong, but would declare him at any rate +to have been stern and cruel. And then he had been torn to the heart +by his memory of those passages of love which had been so sweet to +him. He had married her to be the joy of his life, and she had become +so to his entire satisfaction when in his passion he had sent her +away. He already knew that he had made a great mistake. Angry as he +had been, he should not have thus sought to avenge himself. He should +have known himself better than to think that because she had been in +fault he could therefore live without her. He had owned to himself +when his sister had come to him that he must use her services in +getting his wife once again. Was she not the one human being that +suited him at all points? But still,—but still his honour must be +saved. If she in truth desired to come back to him, she would not +hesitate to own that she had been in fault.</p> + +<p>"What am I to say to her? What message will you send to her? You will +hardly let me go back without some word." This was said to him by his +sister as he walked about the room in his misery. What message could +he send? He desired to return himself, and was willing to do so at a +moment's notice if only he could be assured that if he did so she +would as a wife do her duty by owning that she had been in the wrong. +How should he live with a wife who would always be asserting to +herself, and able to assert to him, that in this extremity of their +trouble he had been the cause of it;—not that she would so assert it +aloud, but that the power of doing so would be always present to her +and to him? And yet he was resolved to return, and if he allowed his +sister to go back without him never would there come so fair an +opportunity again. "I have done my duty by you," said his sister.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes. I need hardly tell you that I am grateful to you."</p> + +<p>"And now do your duty by her."</p> + +<p>"If she will write to me one line to beg me to come I will do so."</p> + +<p>"You have absolutely driven her away from you, and left her abruptly, +so that she should have no opportunity of imploring you to spare her. +And now you expect that she should do so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—if she were wrong. By your own showing she was the first to +sin against me."</p> + +<p>"You do not know the nature of a woman, and especially you do not +know hers. I have nothing further to say. I shall leave this by the +early train to-morrow morning, and you can go with me or let me go +alone as you please. I have said what I came to say, and if I have +said it without effect it will only show me how hard a man's heart +may become by living in the world." Then she left him alone and went +her way.</p> + +<p>He took his hat and escaped from the Hotel and walked along the Elbe +all alone. He went far down the river, and did not return for many +hours. At first his thoughts were full of anger against his sister, +though he acknowledged that she had taken great trouble in coming +there on a mission intended to be beneficent to them both. With the +view solely of doing her duty to her brother and to her +sister-in-law, she had taken infinite trouble; yet he was very angry +with her. Being a woman she had most unjustly taken the part of +another woman against him. Cecilia would have suffered but little in +having been forced to acknowledge her great sin. But he would suffer +greatly,—he who had sinned not at all,—by the tacit confession +which he would be thus compelled to make. It was true that it was +necessary that he should return. The happiness of them all, including +that unborn child, required it. His sister knowing this demanded that +he should sacrifice himself in order that his wife might be indulged +in her pride. And yet he knew that he must do it. Though he might go +to her in silence, and in silence renew his married life, he would by +so doing confess that he had been wrong. To such confession he should +not be driven. In the very gall of bitterness, and with the sense of +injustice strong upon him, he did resolve that he would return to +England with his sister. But having so resolved, with his wrath hot +against Lady Grant, his mind was gradually turned to Cecilia and her +condition. How sweet would it be to have her once again sitting at +his table, once again leaning on his arm, once again looking up into +his face with almost comical doubt, seeking to find in his eyes what +answer he would best like her to make when referring to her for some +decision. "It is your opinion that I want," he would say. "Ah! but if +I only knew yours I should be so much better able to have one of my +own." Then there would come a look over her face which almost +maddened him when he thought that he should never see it again. It +was the idea that she who could so look at him should have looked +with the same smile into the face of that other man which had driven +him to fury;—that she should have so looked in those very days in +which she had gazed into his own.</p> + +<p>Could it be that though she had been engaged to the man she had never +taken delight in so gazing at him? That girl whom he had thought to +make his wife, and who had so openly jilted him, had never understood +him as Cecilia had done,—had never looked at him as Cecilia had +looked. But he, after he had been so treated,—happily so +treated,—had certainly never desired ever to see the girl. But this +wife of his, who was possessed of all the charms which a woman could +own, of whom he acknowledged to himself day after day that she was, +as regarded his taste, peerless and unequalled, she after breaking +from that man, that man unworthy to be called a gentleman, still +continued to hold intercourse with him! Was it not clear that she had +still remained on terms of intimacy with him?</p> + +<p>His walk along the Elbe was very bitter, but yet he determined to +return to England with his sister.</p> + + +<p><a name="c22" id="c22"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXII.</h3> +<h4>MR. WESTERN YIELDS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>The fact that Lady Grant had gone to Dresden was not long in reaching +the ears of Mrs. Western. Dick Ross had heard at the club at Perth +that she had gone, and had told Sir Francis. Sir Francis passed on +the news to Miss Altifiorla, and from her it had reached the deserted +wife. Miss Altifiorla had not told it direct, because at that time +she and Cecilia were not supposed to be on friendly terms. But the +tidings had got about and Mrs. Western had heard them.</p> + +<p>"She's a good woman," said Cecilia to her mother. "I knew her to be +that the first moment that she came to me. She is rough as he is, and +stern, and has a will of her own. But her heart is tender and +true;—as is his also at the core."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that," said Mrs. Holt, with the angry tone which +she allowed herself to use only when speaking of Mr. Western.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he is, mamma. In your affection for me you will not allow +yourself to be just to him. In truth you hardly know him."</p> + +<p>"I know that he has destroyed your happiness for ever, and made me +very wretched."</p> + +<p>"No, mamma; not for ever. It may be that he will come for me, and +that then we shall be as happy as the day is long." As she said this +a vision came before her eyes of the birth of her child and of her +surroundings at the time;—the anxious solicitude of a loving +husband, the care of attendants who would be happy because she was +happy, the congratulations of friends, and the smiles of the world. +But above all she pictured to herself her husband standing by her +bedside with the child in his arms. The dream had been dreamed +before, and was re-dreamed during every hour of the day. "Lady Grant +is strong," she continued, "and can plead for me better than I could +plead myself."</p> + +<p>"Plead for you! Why should there be anyone wanted to plead for you? +Will Lady Grant plead with you for her brother?"</p> + +<p>"It is not necessary. My own heart pleads for him. It is because he +has been in the wrong that an intercessor is necessary for me. It is +they who commit the injury that have a difficulty in forgiving. If he +came to me do you not know that I should throw myself into his arms +and be the happiest woman in the world without a word spoken?" The +conversation was not then carried further, but Mrs. Holt continued to +shake her head as she sate at her knitting. In her estimation no +husband could have behaved worse than had her son-in-law. And she was +of opinion that he should be punished for his misconduct before +things could be made smooth again.</p> + +<p>Some days afterwards Miss Altifiorla called at the house, and sent in +a note while she stood waiting in the hall. In the note she merely +asked whether her "dear Cecilia" would be willing to receive her +after what had passed. She had news to tell of much importance, and +she hoped that her "dear Cecilia" would receive her. There had been +no absolute quarrel, no quarrel known to the servants, and Cecilia +did receive her. "Oh, my dear," she said, bustling into the room with +an air of affected importance, "you will be surprised,—I think that +you must be surprised at what I have to tell you."</p> + +<p>"I will be surprised if you wish it," said Cecilia.</p> + +<p>"Let me first begin by assuring you, that you must not make light of +my news. It is of the greatest importance, not only to me, but of +some importance also to you."</p> + +<p>"It shall be of importance."</p> + +<p>"Because you begin with that little sneer which has become so common +with you. You must be aware of it. Amidst the troubles of your own +life, which we all admit to be very grievous, there has come upon you +a way of thinking that no one else's affairs can be of any +importance."</p> + +<p>"I am not aware of it."</p> + +<p>"It is so a little. And pray believe me that I am not in the least +angry about it. I knew that it would be so when I came to you this +morning; and yet I could not help coming. Indeed as the thing has now +been made known to the Dean's family I could not bear that you should +be left any longer in ignorance."</p> + +<p>"What is the thing?"</p> + +<p>"There it is again;—that sneer. I cannot tell you unless you will +interest yourself. Does nothing interest you now beyond your own +misfortunes?"</p> + +<p>"Alas, no. I fear not."</p> + +<p>"But this shall interest you. You must be awaked to the affairs of +the world—especially such an affair as this. You must be shaken up. +This I suppose will shake you up. If not, you must be past all hope."</p> + +<p>"What on earth is it?"</p> + +<p>"Sir Francis Geraldine—! You have heard at any rate of Sir Francis +Geraldine."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; I have not as yet forgotten the name."</p> + +<p>"I should think not. Sir Francis Geraldine has—" And then she paused +again.</p> + +<p>"Cut his little finger," said Cecilia. Had she dreamed of what was to +come she would not have turned Sir Francis into ridicule. But she had +been aware of Miss Altifiorla's friendship with Sir Francis,—or +rather what she had regarded as an affectation of friendship, and did +not for a moment anticipate such a communication as was to be made to +her.</p> + +<p>"Cecilia Holt—"</p> + +<p>"That at any rate is not my name."</p> + +<p>"I dare say you wish it were."</p> + +<p>"I would not change my real name for that of any woman under the +sun."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not; but there are other women in a position of less +grandeur. I am going to change mine."</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"I thought you would be surprised because it would look as though I +were about to abandon my great doctrine. It is not so. My opinions on +that great subject are not in the least changed. But of course there +must be some women whom the exigencies of the world will require to +marry."</p> + +<p>"A good many, first and last."</p> + +<p>"About the good many I do not at this moment concern myself. My duty +is clearly before me and I mean to perform it. I have been asked to +ally myself—;" then there was a pause, and the speaker discovered +when it was too late that she was verging on the ridiculous in +declaring her purpose of forming an alliance;—"that is to say, I am +going to marry Sir Francis Geraldine."</p> + +<p>"Sir Francis Geraldine!"</p> + +<p>"Do you see any just cause or impediment?"</p> + +<p>"None in the least. And yet how am I to answer such a question? I saw +cause or impediment why I should not marry him."</p> + +<p>"You both saw it, I suppose?" said Miss Altifiorla, with an air of +grandeur. "You both supposed that you were not made for each other, +and wisely determined to give up the idea. You did not remain single, +and I suppose we need not either."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not for my sake."</p> + +<p>"Our intimacy since that time has been increased by circumstances, +and we have now discovered that we can both of us best suit our own +interests by <span class="nowrap">an—"</span></p> + +<p>"An alliance," suggested Mrs. Western.</p> + +<p>"If you please,—though I am quite aware that you use the term as a +sneer." As to this Mrs. Western was too honest to deny the truth, and +remained silent.</p> + +<p>"I thought it proper," continued Miss Altifiorla, "as we had been so +long friends, to inform you that it will be so. You had your chance, +and as you let it slip I trust that you will not envy me mine."</p> + +<p>"Not in the least."</p> + +<p>"At any rate you do not congratulate me."</p> + +<p>"I have been very remiss. I acknowledge it. But upon my word the news +has so startled me that I have been unable to remember the common +courtesies of the world. I thought when I heard of your travelling up +to London together that you were becoming very intimate."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it had been ever so much before that,—the intimacy at least. Of +course I did not know him before he came to this house. But a great +many things have happened since that; have there not? Well, good-bye, +dear. I have no doubt we shall continue as friends, especially as we +shall be living almost in the neighbourhood. Castle Gerald is to be +at once fitted up for me, and I hope you will forget all our little +tiffs, and often come and stay with me." So saying, Miss Altifiorla, +having told her grand news, made her adieus and went away.</p> + +<p>"A great many things have happened since that," said Cecilia, +repeating to herself her friend's words. It seemed to her to be so +many that a lifetime had been wasted since Sir Francis had first come +to that house. She had won the love of the best man she had ever +known, and married him, and had then lost his love! And now she had +been left as a widowed wife, with all the coming troubles of +maternity on her head. She had understood well the ill-natured +sarcasm of Miss Altifiorla. "We shall be living almost in the same +neighbourhood!" Yes; if her separation from her husband was to be +continued, then undoubtedly she would live at Exeter, and, as far as +the limits of the county were concerned, she would be the neighbour +of the future Lady Geraldine. That she should ever willingly be found +under the same roof with Sir Francis was, as she knew well, as +impossible to Miss Altifiorla as to herself. The invitation contained +the sneer, and was intended to contain it. But it created no anger. +She, too, had sneered at Miss Altifiorla quite as bitterly. They had +each learned to despise the other, and not to sneer was impossible. +Miss Altifiorla had come to tell of her triumph, and to sneer in +return. But it mattered nothing. What did matter was whether that +threat should come true. Should she always be left living at Exeter +with her mother? Then she dreamed her dream again, that he had come +back to her, and was sitting by her bedside with his hand in hers and +whispering sweet words to her, while a baby was lying in her +arms—his child. As she thought of the bliss of the fancied moment, +the still possible bliss, her anger seemed to fade away. What would +she not do to bring him back, what would she not say? She had done +amiss in keeping that secret so long, and though the punishment had +been severe, it was not altogether undeserved. It had come to him as +a terrible blow, and he had been unable to suppress his agony. He +should not have treated her so; no, he should not have sent her away. +But she could make excuses now, which but a few weeks since seemed to +her to be impossible. And she understood, she told herself that she +understood, the difference between herself as a woman and him as a +man. He had a right to command, a right to be obeyed, a right to be +master. He had a right to know all the secrets of her heart, and to +be offended when one so important had been kept from him. He had +lifted his hand in great wrath, and the blow he had struck had been +awful. But she would bear it without a word of complaint if only he +would come back to her. As she thought of it, she declared to herself +that she must die if he did not come back. To live as she was living +now would be impossible to her. But if he would come back, how +absolutely would she disregard all that the world might say as to +their short quarrel. It would indeed be known to all the world, but +what could the world do to her if she once again had her husband by +her side? When the blow first fell on her she had thought much of the +ignominy which had befallen her, and which must ever rest with her. +Even though she should be taken back again, people would know that +she had been discarded. But now she told herself that for that she +cared not at all. Then she again dreamed her dream. Her child was +born, and her husband was standing by her with that sweet manly smile +upon his face. She put out her hand as though he would touch it, and +was conscious of an involuntary movement as though she were bending +her face towards him for a kiss.</p> + +<p>Surely he would come to her! His sister had gone to him, and would +have told him the absolute truth. She had never sinned against him, +even by intentional silence. There had been no thought of hers since +she had been his wife which he had not been welcome to share. It had +in truth been for his sake rather than for her own that she had been +silent. She was aware that from cowardice her silence had been +prolonged. But surely now at last he would forgive her that offence. +Then she thought of the words she would use as she owned her fault. +He was a man, and as a man had a right to expect that she would +confess it. If he would come to her, and stand once again with his +arm round her waist, she would confess it.</p> + +<p>"My dear, here is a letter. The postman has just brought it." She +took the letter from her mother's hand and hardly knew whether to be +pleased or disappointed when she found that the address was in the +handwriting of Lady Grant. Lady Grant would of course write whether +with good news or with bad. The address told her nothing, but yet she +could not tear the envelope. "Well, my dear; what is it?" said her +mother. "Why don't you open it?"</p> + +<p>She turned a soft supplicating painful look up to her mother's face +as she begged for grace. "I will go up-stairs, mamma, and will tell +you by-and-by." Then she left the room with the letter unopened in +her hand. It was with difficulty that she could examine its contents, +so apprehensive was she and yet so hopeful, so confident at one +moment of her coming happiness, and yet so fearful at another that +she should be again enveloped in the darkness of her misery. But she +did at last persuade herself to read the words which Lady Grant had +written. They were very short, and ran as follows: "My dear Cecilia, +my brother returns with me, and will at once go down to Exeter." The +shock of her joy was so great that she could hardly see what +followed. "He will hope to reach that place on the fifteenth by the +train which leaves London at nine in the morning."</p> + +<p>That was all, but that was enough. She was sure that he would not +come with the purpose of telling her that he must again leave her. +And she was sure also that if he would once put himself within the +sphere of her personal influence it should be so used that he would +never leave her again.</p> + +<p>"Of course he is coming. I knew he would come. Why should he not +come?" This she exclaimed to her mother, and then went on to speak of +him with a wild rhapsody of joy, as though there had hardly been any +breach in her happiness. And she continued to sing the praises of her +husband till Mrs. Holt hardly knew how to bear her enthusiasm in a +fitting mood. For she, who was not in love, still thought that this +man's conduct had been scandalous, wicked, and cruel; and, if to be +forgiven, only to be forgiven because of the general wickedness and +cruelty of man.</p> + +<p>It had not been without great difficulty that Lady Grant induced her +brother to assent to her writing the letter which has been given +above. When he had agreed to return with her to England he had no +doubt assented to her assertion that he was bound to take his wife +back again, even without any confession. And this had been so much to +gain, had been so felt to be the one only material point necessary, +that he was not pressed as to his manner of doing it. But before they +reached London it was essential that some arrangement should be made +for bringing them together. "Could not I go down to Durton," he had +said, "and could not she come to me there?" No doubt he might have +gone to Durton, and no doubt she would have gone to him if asked. She +would have flown to him at Dresden, or to Jerusalem, at a word spoken +by him. Absence had made him so precious to her, that she would have +obeyed the slightest behest with joy as long as the order given were +to bring them once more together. But of this Lady Grant was not +aware, and, had she been so, the sense of what was becoming would +have restrained her.</p> + +<p>"I think, George, that you had better go to Exeter," she said.</p> + +<p>"Should we not be more comfortable at Durton?"</p> + +<p>"I think that when at Durton you will be more happy if you shall +yourself have fetched her from her mother's home. I think you owe it +to your wife to go to her, and make the journey with her. What is +your objection?"</p> + +<p>"I do not wish to be seen in Exeter," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Nor did she, you may be sure, when she returned there alone. But +what does it matter? If you can be happy in once more possessing her, +it cannot signify who shall see you. There can be nothing to be +ashamed of in going for your wife; nor can any evil happen to you. As +this thing is to be done, let it be done in a noble spirit."</p> + + +<p><a name="c23" id="c23"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIII.</h3> +<h4>SIR FRANCIS' ESCAPE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>When she had told the Dean's family, and Mrs. Green, and Cecilia, +Miss Altifiorla began to feel that there was no longer a secret worth +the keeping. And indeed it became necessary to her happiness to +divulge this great step in life which she was about to take. She had +written very freely, and very frequently to Sir Francis, and Sir +Francis, to tell the truth, had not responded in the same spirit. She +had received but two answers to six letters, and each answer had been +conveyed in about three lines. There had been no expressions from him +of confiding love, nor any pressing demands for an immediate +marriage. They had all been commenced without even naming her, and +had been finished by the simple signature of his initials. But to +Miss Altifiorla they had been satisfactory. She knew how silly she +would be to expect from such an one as her intended husband long +epistles such as a school girl would require, and, in order to keep +him true to her, had determined to let him know how little exacting +she was inclined to be. She would willingly do all the preliminary +writing if only she could secure her position as Lady Geraldine. She +wrote such letters, letters so full of mingled wit and love and fun, +that she was sure that he must take delight in reading them. "Easy +reading requires hard writing," she said to herself as she copied for +the third time one of her epistles, and copied it studiously in such +handwriting that it should look to have been the very work of +negligence. In all this she had been successful as she thought, and +told herself over and over again how easy it was for a clever woman +to make captive a man of mark, provided that she set herself +assiduously to the task.</p> + +<p>She soon descended from her friends to the shopkeepers, and found +that her news was received very graciously by the mercantile +interests of the city. The milliners, the haberdashers, the furriers +and the bootmakers of Exeter received her communication and her +orders with pleased alacrity. With each of them she held a little +secret conference, telling each with a smiling whisper what fate was +about to do for her. To even the upholsterers, the bankers, the +hotel-keepers and the owners of post-horses she was communicative, +making every one the gratified recipient of her tidings. Thus in a +short time all Exeter knew that Sir Francis Geraldine was about to +lead to the hymeneal altar Miss Altifiorla, and it must be +acknowledged that all Exeter expressed various opinions on the +subject. They who understood that Miss Altifiorla was to pay for the +supplies ordered out of her own pocket declared for the most part how +happy a man was Sir Francis. But those who could only look to Sir +Francis for possible future custom were surprised that the Baronet +should have allowed himself to be so easily caught. And then the +aristocracy expressed its opinion which it must be acknowledged was +for the most part hostile to Miss Altifiorla. It was well known +through the city that the Dean had declared that he would never again +see his brother-in-law at the deanery. And it was whispered that the +Reverend Dr. Pigrum, one of the canons, had stated "that no one in +the least knew where Miss Altifiorla had come from." This hit Miss +Altifiorla very hard,—so much so, that she felt herself obliged to +write an indignant letter to Dr. Pigrum, giving at length her entire +pedigree. To this Dr. Pigrum made a reply as follows: "Dr. Pigrum's +compliments to Miss Altifiorla, and is happy to learn the name of her +great grandmother." Dr. Pigrum was supposed to be a wag, and the +letter soon became the joint property of all the ladies in the Close.</p> + +<p>This interfered much with Miss Altifiorla's happiness. She even went +across to Cecilia, complaining of the great injustice done to her by +the Cathedral clergymen generally. "Men from whom one should expect +charity instead of scandal, but that their provincial ignorance is so +narrow!" Then she went on to remind Cecilia how much older was the +Roman branch of her family than even the blood of the Geraldines. +"You oughtn't to have talked about it," said Cecilia, who in her +present state of joy did not much mind Miss Altifiorla and her +husband. "Do you suppose that I intend to be married under a bushel?" +said Miss Altifiorla grandly. But this little episode only tended to +renew the feeling of enmity between the ladies.</p> + +<p>But there appeared a paragraph in the "Western Telegraph" which drove +Miss Altifiorla nearly mad: "It is understood that one of the +aristocracy in this county is soon about to be married to a lady who +has long lived among us in Exeter. Sir Francis Geraldine is the happy +man, and Miss Altifiorla is the lady about to become Lady Geraldine. +Miss Altifiorla is descended from an Italian family of considerable +note in its own country. Her great grandmother was a Fiasco, and her +great great grandmother a Disgrazia. We are delighted to find that +Sir Francis is to ally himself to a lady of such high birth." Now +Miss Altifiorla was well aware that there was an old feud between Sir +Francis and the "Western Telegraph," and she observed also that the +paper made allusion to the very same relatives whom she had named in +her unfortunate letter to Dr. Pigrum. "The vulgarity of the people of +this town is quite unbearable," she exclaimed to Mrs. Green. But when +she was left alone she at once wrote a funnier letter than ever to +Sir Francis. It might be that Sir Francis should not see the +paragraph. At any rate she did not mention it.</p> + +<p>But unfortunately Sir Francis did see the paragraph; and, +unfortunately also, he had not appreciated the wit of Miss +Altifiorla's letters. "Oh, laws!" he had been heard to ejaculate on +receipt of a former letter.</p> + +<p>"It's the kind of thing a man has to put up with when he gets +married," said Captain McCollop, a gentleman who had already in some +sort succeeded Dick Ross.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose you think a man ever ought to be married."</p> + +<p>"Quite the contrary. When a man has a property he must be married. I +suppose I shall have the McCollop acres some of these days myself." +The McCollop acres were said to lie somewhere in Caithness, but no +one knew their exact locality. "But a man will naturally put off the +evil day as long as he can. I should have thought that you might have +allowed yourself to run another five years yet." The flattery did +touch Sir Francis, and he began to ask himself whether he had gone +too far with Miss Altifiorla. Then came the "Western Telegraph," and +he told himself that he had gone too far.</p> + +<p>"By G——, she has told everybody in that beastly hole," +said he. The "beastly hole" was intended to represent Exeter.</p> + +<p>"Of course she has. You didn't suppose but that she would begin to +wear her honour and glory as soon as they were wearable."</p> + +<p>"She pledged herself not to mention it to a single soul," said Sir +Francis. Upon this Captain McCollop merely shrugged his shoulders. +"I'm <span class="nowrap">d——d</span> if I put +up with it. Look here! All her filthy +progenitors put into the newspaper to show how grand she is."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't care so very much about that," said the cautious +Captain, who began to perceive that he need not be specially bitter +against the lady.</p> + +<p>"You're not going to marry her."</p> + +<p>"Well, no; that's true."</p> + +<p>"Nor am I," said Sir Francis with an air of great decision. "She +hasn't got a word of mine in writing to show,—not a word that would +go for anything with a jury."</p> + +<p>"Hasn't she indeed?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word. I have taken precious good care of that. Between you and +me, I don't mind acknowledging it. But it had never come to more than +that."</p> + +<p>"Then in fact you are not bound to her."</p> + +<p>"No; I am not;—not what I call bound. She's a handsome woman you +know,—very handsome."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so."</p> + +<p>"And she'd do the drawing-room well, and the sitting at the top of +the table, and all that kind of thing."</p> + +<p>"But it's such a deuced heavy price to pay," said Captain McCollop.</p> + +<p>"I should not have minded the price," said Sir Francis, not quite +understanding his friend's remark, "if she hadn't made me ridiculous +in this way. The Fiascos and the Disgrazias! What the devil are they +to our old English families? If she had let it remain as it was, I +might have gone through with it. But as she has told all Exeter and +got that stuff put into the newspapers, she must take the +consequences. One is worse than another, as far as I can see." By +this Sir Francis intended to express his opinion that Miss Altifiorla +was at any rate quite as bad as Cecilia Holt.</p> + +<p>But the next thing to be decided was the mode of escape. Though Sir +Francis had declared that he was not what he called bound, yet he +knew that he must take some steps in the matter to show that he +considered himself to be free; and as the Captain was a clever man, +and well conversant with such things, he was consulted. "I should +say, take a run abroad for a short time," said the Captain.</p> + +<p>"Is that necessary?"</p> + +<p>"You'd avoid some of the disagreeables. People will talk, and your +relatives at Exeter might kick up a row."</p> + +<p>"Oh, d—— my relatives."</p> + +<p>"With all my heart. But people have such a way of making themselves +disgusting. What do you say to taking a run through the States?"</p> + +<p>"Would you go with me?" asked the Baronet.</p> + +<p>"If you wish it I shouldn't mind," said the Captain considerately. +"Only to do any good we should be off quickly. But you must write to +some one first."</p> + +<p>"Before I start, you think?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes;—certainly. If she didn't hear from you before you went, +you'd be persecuted by her letters."</p> + +<p>"There is no end to her letters. I've quite made up my mind what I'll +do about them. I won't open one of them. After all, why should she +write to me when the affair is over? You've heard of Mrs. Western, I +suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I've heard of her."</p> + +<p>"I didn't write to her when that affair was over. I didn't pester her +with long-winded scrawls. She changed her mind, and I've changed +mine; and so we're equal. I've paid her, and she can pay me if she +knows how."</p> + +<p>"I hope Miss Altifiorla will look at it in the same light," said the +Captain.</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't she? She knew all about it when that other affair came +to an end. I wasn't treated with any particular ceremony. The truth +is, people don't look at these things now as they used to do. Men and +women mostly do as they like till they've absolutely fixed +themselves. There used to be duels and all that kind of nonsense. +There is none of that now."</p> + +<p>"No; you won't get shot."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind being shot any more than another man; but you must take +the world as you find it. One young woman treated me awfully rough, +to tell the truth. And why am I not to treat another just as roughly? +If you look at it all round, you'll see that I have used them just as +they have used me."</p> + +<p>"At any rate," said Captain McCollop, after a pause, "if you have +made up your mind, you'd better write the letter."</p> + +<p>Sir Francis did not see the expediency of writing the letter +immediately, but at last he gave way to his friend's arguments. And +he did so the more readily as his friend was there to write the +letter for him. After some attempts on his own part, he put the +writing of the letter into the hands of the Captain, and left him +alone for an entire morning to perform the task. The letter when it +was sent, after many corrections and revises, ran as +<span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear +Miss Altifiorla</span>,—I think that I am bound in +honour without a moment's delay to make you aware of the +condition of my mind in regard to marriage. I ain't quite +sure but what I shall be better without it +<span class="nowrap">altogether.—</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">"I'd rather marry her +twice over than let my cousin have the title +and the property," said the Baronet with energy. "You needn't tell +her that," said McCollop. "Of course when you've cleared the ground +in this quarter you can begin again with another lady."<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">—I think that perhaps +I may have expressed myself badly +so as to warrant you in understanding more than I have +meant. If so, I am sure the fault has been mine, and I am +very sorry for it. Things have turned up with which I need +not perhaps trouble you, and compel me to go for a while +to a very distant country. I shall be off almost before I +can receive a reply to this letter. Indeed, I may be gone +before an answer can reach me. But I have thought it right +not to let a post go by without informing you of my +decision.</p> + +<p>I have seen that article in the Exeter newspaper +respecting your family in Italy, and think that it must be +very gratifying to you. I did understand, however, that +not a word was to have been spoken as to the matter. +Nothing had escaped from me, at any rate. I fear that some +of your intimate friends at Exeter must have been +indiscreet.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind8">Believe me yours,</span><br /> +<span class="ind10">With the most sincere admiration,</span></p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Francis +Geraldine</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>He was not able to start for America immediately after writing this, +but he quitted his Lodge in Scotland, leaving no immediate address, +and hid himself for a while among his London clubs, where he trusted +that the lady might not find him. In a week's time he would be off to +the United States.</p> + +<p>Who shall picture the rage of Miss Altifiorla when she received this +letter? This was the very danger which she had feared, but had hardly +thought it worth her while to fear. It was the one possible +break-down in her triumph; but had been, she thought, so unlikely as +to be hardly possible. But now on reading the letter she felt that no +redress was within her reach. To whom should she go for succour? +Though her ancestors had been so noble, she had no one near her to +take up the cudgels on her behalf. With her friends in Exeter she had +become a little proud of late, so that she had turned from her those +who might have assisted her. "The coward!" she said to herself, "the +base coward! He dares to treat me in this way because he knows that I +am alone." Then she became angry in her heart against Cecilia, who +she felt had set a dangerous example in this practice of jilting. Had +Cecilia not treated Sir Francis so unceremoniously he certainly would +not have dared so to treat her. There was truth in this, as in that +case Sir Francis would at this moment have been the husband of Mrs. +Western.</p> + +<p>But what should she do? She took out every scrap of letter that she +had received from the man, and read each scrap with the greatest +care. In the one letter there certainly was an offer very plainly +made, as he had intended it; but she doubted whether she could depend +upon it in a court of law. "Don't you think that you and I know each +other well enough to make a match of it?" It was certainly written as +an offer, and her two answers to him would make it plain that it was +so. But she had an idea that she would not be allowed to use her own +letters against him. And then to have her gushing words read as a +reply to so cold a proposition would be death to her. There was not +another syllable in the whole correspondence written by him to +signify that he had in truth intended to become her husband. She felt +sure that he had been wickedly crafty in the whole matter, and had +lured her on to expose herself in her innocence.</p> + +<p>But what should she do? Should she write to him an epistle full of +tenderness? She felt sure that it would be altogether ineffectual. +Should she fill sheets with indignation? It would be of no use unless +she could follow up her indignation by strong measures. Should she +let the thing pass by in silence, as though she and Sir Francis had +never known each other? She would certainly do so, but that she had +allowed her matrimonial prospects to become common through all +Exeter. She must also let Exeter know how badly Sir Francis intended +to treat her. To her, too, the idea of a prolonged sojourn in the +United States presented itself. In former days there had come upon +her a great longing to lecture at Chicago, at Saint Paul's, and +Omaha, on the distinctive duties of the female sex. Now again the +idea returned to her. She thought that in one of those large Western +halls, full of gas and intelligence, she could rise to the height of +her subject with a tremendous eloquence. But then would not the name +of Sir Francis travel with her and crush her?</p> + +<p>She did resolve upon informing Mrs. Green. She took three days to +think of it, and then she sent for Mrs. Green. "Of all human beings," +she said, "you, I think, are the truest to me." Mrs. Green of course +expressed herself as much flattered. "And therefore I will tell you. +No false pride shall operate with me to make me hold my tongue. Of +all the false deceivers that have ever broken a woman's heart, that +man is the basest and the falsest."</p> + +<p>In this way she let all Exeter know that she was not to be married to +Sir Francis Geraldine; and another paragraph appeared in the "Western +Telegraph," declaring that after all Sir Francis Geraldine was not to +be allied to the Fiascos and Disgrazias of Rome.</p> + + +<p><a name="c24" id="c24"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIV.</h3> +<h4>CONCLUSION.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Though the news of Miss Altifiorla's broken engagement did reach Mrs. +Western at St. David's, she was in a state of mind which prevented +her almost from recognising the fact. It was the very day on which +her husband was to come to her. And her joy was so extreme as almost +to have become painful. "Mamma," she said, "I shall not know what to +say to him."</p> + +<p>"Just let him come and receive him quietly."</p> + +<p>"Receive him quietly! How can I be quiet when he will have come back +to me? I think you do not realise the condition I have been in during +the last three months."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear, I do. You have been deserted, and it has been very +bad."</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Western did not approve of the word used, as it carried a +strong reproach against her husband. She was anxious now to take upon +herself the whole weight of the fault which had produced their +separation, and to hold him to have been altogether sinless. And as +yet she was not quite sure that he would again take her to his home. +All she knew was that he would be that day in Exeter, and that then +so much might depend on her own conduct. Of this she was quite +sure,—that were he to reject her she must die. In her present +condition, and with the memory present to her of the dreams she had +dreamed, she could not live alone at Exeter, divided from him, and +there give birth to her child. But he must surely intend to take her +into his arms when he should arrive. It could not be possible that he +should again reject her when he had once seen her.</p> + +<p>Then she became fidgety about her personal appearance,—a female +frailty which had never much prevailed with her,—and was anxious +even about her ribbons and her dress. "He does think so much about a +woman being neat," she said to her mother.</p> + +<p>"I never perceived it in him, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Because you have not known him as I have done. He does not say much, +but no one's eye is so accurate and so severe." All this arose from a +certain passage which dwelt in her remembrance, when he had praised +the fit of her gown, and had told her with a kiss that no woman ever +dressed so well as she did.</p> + +<p>"I think, my dear," continued Mrs. Holt, "that if you wear your black +silk just simply, it will do very well."</p> + +<p>Simply! Yes; she must certainly be simple. But it is so hard to be +simple in such a way as to please a man's eye. And yet, even when the +time came near, she did not dare to remain long in her bedroom lest +her own maid should know the source of her anxiety. At one time she +had declared that she would go down to the station to meet him, but +that idea had been soon abandoned. The first kiss she would give him +should not be seen by strangers.</p> + +<p>But if she were perplexed as to how she would bear herself on the +coming occasion he was much more so. It may be said of him, that +through his whole journey home from Dresden he was disturbed, +unhappy, and silent. And that when his sister left him in London, and +that he had nothing immediately before him but the journey down to +Exeter, he was almost overwhelmed by the difficulties of the +situation. His case as a man was so much worse than hers as a woman. +The speaking must all be done by him, and what was there that he +could say? There was still present to him a keen sense of the wrong +that he had endured; though he owned to himself that the punishment +which at the spur of the moment he had resolved upon inflicting was +too severe,—both upon her and upon himself. And though he felt that +he had been injured, he did gradually acknowledge that he had +believed something worse than the truth. How to read the riddle he +did not know, but there was a riddle which he had not read aright. If +Cecilia should still be silent, he must still be left in the dark. +But he did understand that he was to expect no confession of a fault, +and that he was to exact no show of repentance.</p> + +<p>When the train arrived at Exeter he determined to be driven at once +to the Hotel. It made him unhappy to think that everyone around him +should be aware that he was occupying rooms at an inn while his wife +was living in the town; but he did not dare to take his portmanteau +to Mrs. Holt's house and hang up his hat in her hall as though +nothing had been the matter. "Put it into a cab," he said to a porter +as the door was opened, "and bid him drive to the Clarence."</p> + +<p>But a man whose face he remembered had laid his hand upon his valise +before it was well out of the railway carriage. "Please, Sir," said +the man, "you are to go up to the house, and I'm to carry your +things. I am Sam Barnet, the gardener."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Sam," said Mr. Western. "Go on and I'll follow you." Now, +as he well knew, the house at St. David's was less than half a mile +from the railway station.</p> + +<p>He felt that his misery would be over in ten minutes, and yet for ten +minutes how miserable a man he was! Whilst she was trembling with +joy, a joy that was only dashed by a vague fear of his possible +sternness, he was blaming his fate as it shortened by every step the +distance between him and his wife. At last he had entered the path of +the little garden, and the door of the house was open before him. He +ventured to look, but did not see her. He was in the hall, but yet he +did not see her. "Cecilia is in the breakfast parlour," said the +voice of Mrs. Holt, whom in his confusion he did not notice. The +breakfast parlour was in the back part of the house, looking out into +the garden, and thither he went. The door was just ajar and he passed +in. In a second the whole trouble was over. She was in his arms at +once, kissing his face, stroking his hair, leaning on his bosom, +holding his arm round her own waist as though to make sure that he +should not leave her; crying and laughing at the same moment. "Oh, +George, my own George! It has all been my doing; but you will forgive +me! Say that one word that I am 'forgiven.'" Then there came another +storm of kisses which frustrated the possibility of his speaking to +her.</p> + +<p>What a wife she was to possess! How graceful, how gracious, how +precious were her charms,—charms in which no other woman surely ever +approached her! How warm and yet how cool was the touch of her lips; +how absolutely symmetrical was the sweet curve of her bust; what a +fragrance came from her breath! And the light of her eyes, made more +bright by her tears, shone into his with a heavenly brightness. Her +soft hair as he touched it filled him with joy. And once more she was +all his own. Let the secret be what it might, he was quite sure that +she was his own. As he bent down over her she pressed her cheek +against his and again drew his arm tighter round her waist. "George, +if you wished to know how I love you, you have taken the right step. +I have been sick for you, but now I shall be sick no longer. Oh, +George, it was my fault; but say that you have forgiven me."</p> + +<p>He could not bring himself to speak so much of an accusation as would +be contained in that word "forgive." How was he to pardon one whose +present treatment to him was so perfect, so loving, and so lovely? +"Sit down, George, and let me tell you how it was. Of course I was +wrong, but I did not mean to be wrong."</p> + +<p>"No, no," he said. "There shall be no wrong." And yet why had not his +sister told him that it would be like this? Why had she so stoutly +maintained that Cecilia would confess nothing. Here she was +acknowledging everything with most profuse confession. What could any +man desire more? "Do not speak of it;—at any rate now. Let me be +happy as I have got you."</p> + +<p>Then there was another storm of kisses, but she was not to be put off +from her purpose. "You must know it all. Sit down;—there, like +that." And she seated herself, leaning back upon him on the sofa. +"Before we had been abroad I had been engaged to that man."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I understand that."</p> + +<p>"I had been engaged to him,—without knowing him. Then when I found +that he was not what I thought him, I made up my mind that it would +be better to throw him over than make us both miserable for life."</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"And I did so. I made a struggle and did it. From that time to this I +have had nothing to say to him,—nor he to me. You may say that I +treated him badly."</p> + +<p>"I don't say so. I, at any rate, do not say so."</p> + +<p>"My own, own man. Then we went abroad, and as good fortune would have +it you came in our way. It was not long before you made me love you. +That was not my fault, George. I loved you so dearly when you were +telling me that story about the other girl;—but, somehow, I could +not tell you then a similar story about myself. It seemed at first so +odd that my story should be the same, and then it looked almost as +though I were mocking you. Had you had no story to tell, you would +have known all my own before I had allowed myself to be made happy by +your love. Do you not perceive that it was so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, slowly, "I can understand what you mean."</p> + +<p>"But it was a mistake; for from day to day the difficulty grew upon +me, and when once there was a difficulty, I was not strong enough to +overcome it. There never came the moment in which I was willing to +mar my own happiness by telling you that which I thought would wound +yours. I had not dreamed beforehand how much more difficult it would +become when I should once be absolutely your wife. Then your sister +came and she told me. She is better than anybody in the world except +yourself."</p> + +<p>"All women are better than I am," he said. "It is their nature to be +so."</p> + +<p>Some half-ludicrous idea of Miss Altifiorla and her present +difficulties came across her mind, as she contradicted his assertion +with another shower of kisses. "She told me," continued Cecilia, +"that I was bound to let you know all the truth. Of course I knew +that; of course I intended it. But that odious woman was in the +house, and I could not tell you till she was gone. Then he came."</p> + +<p>"Why did he come?"</p> + +<p>"He had no right to come. No man with the smallest spirit would have +shown himself at your door. I have thought about it again and again, +and I can only imagine that it has been his intention to revenge +himself. But what matter his intentions so long as they do not come +between you and me? I want you to know all the truth, but not to +imagine more than the truth. Since the day on which I had told him +that he and I must part, there has been no communication between us +but what you know. He came to Durton and made his way into the house, +and Miss Altifiorla was there and saw it all; and then you were +told."</p> + +<p>"He is a mean brute."</p> + +<p>"But I am not a brute. Am I a brute? Say that I am nice once more. +You know everything now,—everything, everything. I do own that I +have been wrong to conceal it. My very soul should be laid bare to +you."</p> + +<p>"Cecilia, I will never be hard to you again."</p> + +<p>"I do not say that you have been hard. I do not accuse you. I know +that I have been wrong, and I am quite content that we should again +be friends. Oh, George, just at this moment I think it is sweeter +than if you had never sent me away."</p> + +<p>And so the reconciliation was made, and Mr. Western and Cecilia were +once more together. But no doubt to her mind, as she thought of it +all, there was present the happy conviction that she had been more +sinned against than sinning. She had forgiven, whereas she might have +exacted forgiveness. She had been gracious, whereas she might have +followed her mother's advice and have been repellent till she had +brought him to her feet. As it was, her strong desire to have him +once again had softened her, and now she had the double reward. She +had what she wanted, and was able to congratulate herself at the same +time on her virtue. But he, though he had too what he wanted, became +gradually aware that he had been cruel, stiff-necked, and obdurate. +She was everything that he desired, but he was hardly happy because +he was conscious that he had been unjust. And he was a man that loved +justice even against himself, and could not be quite happy till he +had made restitution.</p> + +<p>He stayed a week with her at Exeter, during which time he so far +recovered himself as to be able to dine at the deanery, and return +Dr. Pigrum's call. Then he was to start for his own house in +Berkshire, having asked Mrs. Holt to come to them a fortnight before +Christmas. He would have called on Miss Altifiorla had he not +understood that Miss Altifiorla in her present state of mind received +no visitors. She gave it out that since men had been men and women +had been women, no woman had been so basely injured as herself. But +she intended to redress the wrongs of her sex by a great movement, +and was devoting herself at present to hard study with that object. +She used to be seen daily walking two miles and back on the Crediton +Road, it being necessary to preserve her health for the sake of the +great work she had in hand. But it was understood that no one was to +accost her, or speak to her on these occasions, and at other times it +was well known that she was engaged upon the labours of her task.</p> + +<p>"And to-morrow we will go back to Durton," said Mr. Western to his +wife.</p> + +<p>"Dear Durton, how happy I shall be to see it once again!"</p> + +<p>"And how happy I shall be to take you again to see it! But before we +go it is necessary that I should say one thing."</p> + +<p>This he spoke in so stern a voice that he almost frightened her. Was +it possible that after all he should find it necessary to refer again +to the little fault which she had so cordially avowed?</p> + +<p>"What is it, George?"</p> + +<p>"I have made a mistake."</p> + +<p>"No, George, no, don't say so. There has been no mistake. A man +should own nothing. I have thought about it and am sure of it."</p> + +<p>"Let a man commit no fault, and then what you say will be true. I +made a mistake, and allowed myself to be so governed by it as to +commit a great injustice. I am aware of it, and I trust I may never +repeat it. Such a mistake as that I think that I shall never commit +again. But I did it, and I ask you to forgive me." In answer to this +she could only embrace him and hang upon him, and implore him in +silence to spare her. "So it has been, and I ask your pardon."</p> + +<p>"No, George, no; no."</p> + +<p>"Will you not pardon me when I ask you?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot bring myself to say such a word. You know that it is all +right between us. I cannot speak the word which you shall never be +made to hear. I am the happiest woman now in all England, and you +must not force me to say that which shall in any way lessen my +glory."</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEPT IN THE DARK***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 22000-h.txt or 22000-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/0/0/22000">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/0/0/22000</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Kept in the Dark + + +Author: Anthony Trollope + + + +Release Date: September 10, 2007 [eBook #22000] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEPT IN THE DARK*** + + +E-text prepared by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + + + +KEPT IN THE DARK + +by + +ANTHONY TROLLOPE + +Originally published in serial form May through December, 1882, in +_Good Words_ and in book form in 1882. Trollope died during the last +month of serial publication. + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + VOLUME I. + + I. CECILIA HOLT AND HER THREE FRIENDS. + II. SIR FRANCIS GERALDINE. + III. THE END OF THAT EPISODE. + IV. MR. WESTERN. + V. CECILIA'S SECOND CHANCE. + VI. WHAT ALL HER FRIENDS SAID ABOUT IT. + VII. MISS ALTIFIORLA'S ARRIVAL. + VIII. LADY GRANT. + IX. MISS ALTIFIORLA'S DEPARTURE. + X. SIR FRANCIS TRAVELS WITH MISS ALTIFIORLA. + XI. MR. WESTERN HEARS THE STORY. + XII. MR. WESTERN'S DECISION. + + VOLUME II. + + XIII. MRS. WESTERN PREPARES TO LEAVE. + XIV. TO WHAT A PUNISHMENT! + XV. ONCE MORE AT EXETER. + XVI. "IT IS ALTOGETHER UNTRUE." + XVII. MISS ALTIFIORLA RISES IN THE WORLD. + XVIII. A MAN'S PRIDE. + XIX. DICK TAKES HIS FINAL LEAVE. + XX. THE SECRET ESCAPES. + XXI. LADY GRANT AT DRESDEN. + XXII. MR. WESTERN YIELDS. + XXIII. SIR FRANCIS' ESCAPE. + XIV. CONCLUSION. + + + + +VOLUME I. + +CHAPTER I. + +CECILIA HOLT AND HER THREE FRIENDS. + + +There came an episode in the life of Cecilia Holt which it is +essential should first be told. When she was twenty-two years old +she was living with her mother at Exeter. Mrs. Holt was a widow with +comfortable means,--ample that is for herself and her daughter to +supply them with all required by provincial comfort and provincial +fashion. They had a house without the city, with a garden and a +gardener and two boys, and they kept a brougham, which was the joint +care of the gardener and the boy inside and the boy outside. They +saw their friends and were seen by them. Once in the year they left +home for a couple of months and went,--wherever the daughter wished. +Sometimes there was a week or two in London; sometimes in Paris +or Switzerland. The mother seemed to be only there to obey the +daughter's behests, and Cecilia was the most affectionate of masters. +Nothing could have been less disturbed or more happy than their +lives. No doubt there was present in Cecilia's manner a certain +looking down upon her mother,--of which all the world was aware, +unless it was her mother and herself. The mother was not blessed by +literary tastes, whereas Cecilia was great among French and German +poets. And Cecilia was aesthetic, whereas the mother thought more of +the delicate providing of the table. Cecilia had two or three female +friends, who were not quite her equals in literature but nearly so. +There was Maude Hippesley, the Dean's daughter, and Miss Altifiorla, +the daughter of an Italian father who had settled in Exeter with her +maternal aunt,--in poor circumstances, but with an exalted opinion +as to her own blood. Francesca Altifiorla was older than her friend, +and was, perhaps, the least loved of the three, but the most often +seen. And there was Mrs. Green, the Minor Canon's wife, who had the +advantage of a husband, but was nevertheless humble and retiring. +They formed the _elite_ of Miss Holt's society and were called by +their Christian names. The Italian's name was Francesca and the +married lady was called Bessy. + +Cecilia had no lovers till there came in an evil hour to Exeter one +Sir Francis Geraldine. She had somewhat scoffed at love, or at the +necessity of having a lover. She and Miss Altifiorla had been of one +mind on that subject. Maude Hippesley had a lover and could not be +supposed to give her accord. Mrs. Green had had one, but expressed +an opinion that it was a trouble well over. A husband might be a +comfort, but a lover was a "bother." "It's such a blessing to be able +to wear my old gloves before him. He doesn't mind it now as he knows +he'll have to pay for the new." But at length there came the lover. +Sir Francis Geraldine was a man who had property in the county but +had not lately lived upon it. He was of an old family, of which he +was very proud. He was an old baronet, a circumstance which he seemed +to think was very much in his favour. Good heavens! From what a +height did he affect to look down upon the peers of the last twenty +years. His property was small, but so singular were his gifts that he +was able to be proud of that also. It had all been in the possession +of his family since the time of James I. And he was a man who knew +everything though only forty, and by no means old in appearance. But, +if you were to believe him, he had all that experience of the world +which nothing but unlimited years could have given him. He knew all +the Courts in Europe, and all the race courses,--and more especially +all the Jacks and Toms who had grown into notoriety in those +different worlds of fashion. He came to Exeter to stay with his +brother-in-law, the Dean, and to look after his property for a while. +There he fell in love with Cecilia Holt, and, after a fortnight +of prosperous love-making, made her an offer. This the young lady +accepted, averse as she was to lovers, and for a month was the +happiest and proudest girl in all Exeter. The happiness and pride of +a girl in her lover is something wonderful to behold. He is surely +the only man, and she the only woman born worthy of such a man. She +is to be the depository of all his secrets, and the recipient of +all his thoughts. That other young ladies should accept her with +submission in this period of her ecstasy would be surprising were it +not that she is so truly exalted by her condition as to make her for +a short period an object to them of genuine worship. In this way, for +a month or six weeks, did Miss Holt's friends submit to her and bear +with her. They endured to be considered but as the outside personages +of an indifferent outer world, whereas Cecilia herself with her lover +were the only two inhabitants of the small celestial empire in which +they lived. Then there gradually came to be a change. And it must +be acknowledged here that the change commenced with Cecilia Holt +herself. + +The greater the adoration of the girl the deeper the abyss into which +she falls,--if she be doomed to fall at all. A month of imperfection +she can bear, even though the imperfections be very glaring. For +a month, or perhaps for six weeks, the desire to subject herself +to a newly-found superior being supports her spirit against all +trials. Neglect when it first comes is not known to be neglect. +The first bursts of ill-temper have about them something of the +picturesque,--or at any rate of the grotesque. Even the selfishness +is displayed on behalf of an object so exalted as to be excusable. +So it was with Cecilia Holt. The period of absolute, unmistaken, +unreasonable love lasted but for six weeks after her engagement. +During those six weeks all Exeter knew of it. There was no reticence +on the part of any one. Sir Francis Geraldine had fallen in love +with Cecilia Holt and a great triumph had been won. Cecilia, in +spite of her general well-known objection to lovers, had triumphed +a little. It is not to be supposed that she had miscarried herself +outrageously. He is cold-hearted, almost cruel, who does not like +to see the little triumph of a girl in such circumstances, who will +not sympathise with her, and join with her, if occasion come, in her +exaltation. No fault was found with Cecilia among her friends in +Exeter, but it was a fact that she did triumph. How it was that the +time of her worship then came to an end it would be difficult to say. +She was perhaps struck by neglect, or something which appeared to her +to be almost scorn. And the man himself, she found, was ignorant. +The ill-temper had lost its picturesqueness, and become worse than +grotesque. And the selfishness seemed to be displayed on an object +not so high as to render it justifiable. Then came a fortnight of +vacillating misery, in which she did not dare to tell her discomfort +to either of her friends. Her mother, who, though she could not +read Schiller, was as anxious for her daughter's happiness as any +mother could be, saw something of this and at last ventured to ask +a question. "Was not Francis to have been here this morning?" + +Cecilia was at that moment thinking of her lover, thinking that he +had been untrue to his tryst now for the third time; and thinking +also that she knew him to be untrue not with any valid excuse, not +with the slightest cause for an excuse, but with a pre-determination +to show the girl to whom he was engaged that it did not suit him any +longer to be at the trouble of serving her. "Oh, mamma, how foolish +you are! How can I tell what Sir Francis Geraldine may be doing?" + +"But I thought he was to have been here." + +"Mamma, please understand that I do not carry him about tied to my +apron-strings. When it pleases him to come he will come." Then she +went on with her book and was silent for a minute or two. Then she +broke out again. "I am sure there ought to be a rule in life that +people when they are engaged should never see each other again till +they meet in the church." + +"I don't think that would do at all, my dear." + +"Perhaps things were different when you were young. The world becomes +less simple every day. However, mamma, we must put up with Sir +Francis whether he come or whether he remain away." + +"The world may be less simple," said Mrs. Holt after a pause, "but I +don't think it half so nice. Young men used to think that there was +nothing so pleasant as a young lady's company when,--when,--when they +were engaged, you know." Then the conversation ended, and the morning +passed without the coming of Sir Francis. + +After that a week passed,--with great forbearance on the part of +Cecilia. She thought herself at least to be forbearing. She thought +much of her lover, and had no doubt tried to interest herself in the +usual conversation of her friends. But they, by the end of the week, +perceived that Sir Francis was never first spoken of by herself. To +Maude Hippesley it was very difficult to avoid an expression of her +doubts, because Maude was niece to Sir Francis. And Sir Francis was +much talked about at the Deanery. "My uncle was not down here this +morning," Maude would say:--and then she would go on to excuse +the defalcation. He had had business requiring his immediate +attention,--probably something as to the marriage settlements. "But +of course he will tell you all that." Cecilia saw through the little +attempts. Maude was quite aware that Sir Francis was becoming weary +of his lover's cares, and made the best excuse she could for them. +But Maude Hippesley never had liked her uncle. + +"Oh, my dear Maude," said Cecilia, "pray let him do what he pleases +with himself in these the last days of his liberty. When he has got a +wife he must attend to her,--more or less. Now he is as free as air. +Pray let him do as he pleases, and for heaven's sake do not bother +him!" Maude who had her own lover, and was perfectly satisfied with +him though she had been engaged to him for nearly twelve months, knew +that things were not going well, and was unhappy. But at the moment +she said nothing further. + +"Where is this recreant knight?" said Francesca. There was something +in the tone of Miss Altifiorla's voice which grated against Cecilia's +ears, and almost made her angry. But she knew that in her present +condition it behoved her to be especially careful. Had she resolved +to break with her betrothed she would have been quite open on the +subject to all her friends. She would have been open to all Exeter. +But in her present condition of mind she was resolved,--she thought +she was resolved,--to go on with her marriage. + +"Why you should call him a recreant knight, I cannot for the life of +me understand," she said. "But it seems that Sir Francis, who is not +exactly in his first youth, is supposed to be as attentive as a young +turtle dove." + +"I always used to think," said Miss Altifiorla gravely, "that a +gentleman was bound to keep his promise." + +"Oh heavens, how grave you all are! A gentleman and his promise! Do +you mean to assert that Sir Francis is no gentleman, and does not +keep his promises? Because if so I shall be angry." Then there was an +end of that conversation. + +But she was stirred to absolute anger by what took place with Mrs. +Green, though she was unable to express her anger. Mrs. Green's +manner to her had always been that of a somewhat humble friend,--of +one who lived in lodgings in the High Street, and who accepted +dinners without returning them. And since this engagement with Sir +Francis had become a fact, her manner had become perhaps a little +more humble. She used to say of herself that of course she was poor; +of course she had nothing to give. Her husband was only a Minor +Canon, and had married her, alas, without a fortune. It is not to be +supposed that on this account Cecilia was inclined to ill-treat her +friend; but the way of the world is such. People are taken and must +be taken in the position they frame for themselves. Mrs. Green was +Cecilia Holt's humble friend, and as such was expected to be humble. +When, therefore, she volunteered a little advice to Cecilia about her +lover, it was not taken altogether in good part. "My dear Cecilia," +she said, "I do really think that you ought to say something to Sir +Francis." + +"Say something!" answered Cecilia sharply. "What am I to say? I say +everything to him that comes in my way." + +"I think, my dear, he is just a little inattentive. I have gone +through it all, and of course know what it means. It is not that he +is deficient in love, but that he allows a hundred little things to +stand in his way." + +"What nonsense you do talk!" + +"But, my dear, you see I have gone through it all myself, and I do +know what I am talking about." + +"Mr. Green--! Do you mean to liken Mr. Green to Sir Francis?" + +"They are both gentlemen," said Mrs. Green with a slight tone of +anger. "And though Sir Francis is a baronet, Mr. Green is a +clergyman." + +"My dear Bessie, you know that is not what I meant. In that respect +they are both alike. But you, when you were engaged, were about three +years younger than the man, and I am nearly twenty years younger than +Sir Francis. You don't suppose that I can put myself altogether on +the same platform with him as you did with your lover. It is absurd +to suppose it. Do you let him go his way, and me go mine. You may be +sure that not a word of reproach will ever fall from my lips."--"Till +we are married," Cecilia had intended to say, but she did not +complete the sentence. + +But the words of her comforters had their effect, as no doubt was the +case with Job. She had complained to no one, but everybody had seen +her condition. Her poor dear old mother, who would have put up with +a very moderate amount of good usage on the part of such a lover as +Sir Francis, had been aware that things were not as they should be. +Her three friends, to whom she had not opened her mouth in the way +of expressing her grievance, had all seen her trouble. That Maude +Hippesley and Miss Altifiorla had noticed it did not strike her with +much surprise, but that Mrs. Green should have expressed herself so +boldly was startling. She could not but turn the matter over in her +own mind and ask herself whether she were ill-treated. And it was +not only those differences which the ladies noticed which struck her +as ominous, but a certain way which Sir Francis had when talking to +herself which troubled her. That light tone of contempt if begun now +would certainly not be dropped after their marriage. He had assumed +an easy way of almost laughing at her, of quizzing her pursuits, and, +worse still, of only half listening to her, which she felt to promise +very badly for her future happiness. If he wanted his liberty he +should have it,--now and then. She would never be a drag on her +husband's happiness. She had resolved from the very first not to be +an exigeant wife. She would care for all his cares, but she would +never be a troublesome wife. All that had been matter of deep thought +to her. And if he were not given to literary tastes in earnest,--for +in the first days of their love-making there had been, as was +natural, a little pretence,--she would not harass him by her +pursuits. And she would sympathise with his racing and his shooting. +And she would interest herself, if possible, about Newmarket,--as to +which place she found he had a taste. And, joined to all the rest, +there came a conviction that his real tastes did take that direction. +She had never before heard that he had a passion for the turf; but +if it should turn out that he was a gambler! Had any of her friends +mentioned such an idea to her a week ago, how she would have rebuked +that friend! But now she added this to her other grievances, and +began to tell herself that she had become engaged to a man whom she +did not know and whom she already doubted. + +Then there came a week of very troubled existence,--of existence the +more troubled because she had no one to whom to tell her trouble. As +to putting confidence in her mother,--that idea never occurred to +her. Her mother among her friends was the humblest of all. To tell +her mother that she was going to be married was a matter of course, +but she had never consulted her mother on the subject. And now, at +the end of the week, she had almost resolved to break with the man +without having intimated to any one that such was her intention. And +what excuse had she? There was excuse enough to her own mind, to her +own heart. But what excuse could she give to him or to the world? He +was confident enough,--so confident as to vex her by his confidence. +Though he had come to treat her with indifference, like a plaything, +she was quite sure that he did not dream of having his marriage +broken off. He was secured,--she was sure that this was his +feeling,--by her love, by her ambition, by his position in the world. +He could make her Lady Geraldine! Was it to be supposed that she +should not wish to be Lady Geraldine? He could take what liberties he +pleased without any danger of losing her! It was her conviction that +such was the condition of his mind that operated the strongest in +bringing her to her resolution. + +But she must tell some one. She must have a confidante. "Maude," she +said one day, "I have made up my mind not to marry your uncle." + +"Cecilia!" + +"I have. No one as yet has been told, but I have resolved. Should I +see him to-morrow, or next day, or the next, I shall tell him." + +"You are not in earnest?" + +"Is it likely that I should jest on such a subject;--or that if I had +a mind to do so I should tell you? You must keep my secret. You must +not tell your uncle. It must come to him from myself. At the present +moment he does not in the least know me,--but he will." + +"And why? Why is there to be this break;--why to be these broken +promises?" + +"I put it to yourself whether you do not know the why. How often have +you made excuses for him? Why have the excuses been necessary? I am +prepared to bear all the blame. I must bear it. But I am not prepared +to make myself miserable for ever because I have made a mistake as to +a man's character. Of course I shall suffer,--because I love him. He +will not suffer much,--because he does not love me." + +"Oh, yes!" + +"You know that he does not," said Cecilia, shaking her head. "You +know it. You know it. At any rate I know it. And as the thing has to +be done, it shall be done quickly." There was much more said between +the two girls on the subject, but Maude when she left her friend was +sure that her friend was in earnest. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +SIR FRANCIS GERALDINE. + + +On that same afternoon, at about tea time, Sir Francis came up to the +house. He had said that he would be there if he could get there,--and +he got there. He was shown into the drawing-room, where was sitting +Mrs. Holt with her daughter, and began to tell them that he was to +leave the Deanery on the following morning and not be back till a +day or two before his marriage. "Where are you going?" Cecilia asked, +meaning nothing, only gaining time till she should have determined +how she should carry out her purpose. + +"Well;--if you must know, I am going to Goodwood. I had not thought +of it. But some friends have reminded me that as these are to be the +last days of my liberty I may as well enjoy them." + +"Your friends are very complaisant to me," said Cecilia in a tone of +voice which seemed to imply that she took it all in earnest. + +"One's friends never do care a straw for the young lady on such an +occasion," said Sir Francis. "They regard her as the conquering +enemy, and him as the conquered victim." + +"And you desire a little relaxation from your fetters." + +"Well; just a last flutter." All this had been said with such a +mixture of indifferent badinage on his part, and of serious anger +on hers, that Mrs. Holt, who saw it all and understood it, sat very +uneasy in her chair. "To tell the truth," continued he, "all the +instructions have been given to the lawyers, and I really do think +that I had better be away during the making of the dresses and the +baking of the cake. It has come to pass by this accident of my living +at the Deanery that we have already become almost tired of each +other's company." + +"You might speak for yourself, Sir Francis Geraldine." + +"So I do. For to tell the truth, a man does get tired of this kind of +thing quicker than a woman, and a man of forty much quicker than a +woman of twenty. At any rate I'm off to-morrow." + +There was something in the tone of all this which thoroughly +confirmed her in her purpose. There should come an end to him of his +thraldom. This should not be, by many, the last of his visits to +Goodwood. He should never again have to complain of the trouble given +to him by her company. She sat silent, turning it all over in her +mind, and struggling to think how she might best get her mother +out of the room. She must do it instantly;--now at once. She was +perfectly resolved that he should not leave that house an engaged +man. But she did not see her direct way to the commencement of the +difficult conversation. "Mrs. Holt," said Sir Francis, "don't you +think a little absence will be best for both of us, before we begin +the perilous voyage of matrimony together?" + +"I am sure I don't know," said poor Mrs. Holt. + +"There can't be a doubt about it," continued the lover. "I have +become so stupid, that I hardly know how to put one foot before the +other, and Cecilia is so majestical that her dignity is growing to be +almost tedious." + +"Mamma," said Cecilia after a pause, "as Sir Francis is going +to-morrow, would you mind leaving us alone for a few minutes? There +is something which I have to say to him." + +"Oh, certainly, my dear," said Mrs. Holt, as she got up and left the +room. + +Now had come the moment, the difficult moment in which Cecilia Holt +had to remodel for herself the course of her future life. For the +last month or two she had been the affianced bride of a baronet, and +of a man of fashion. All Exeter had known her as the future Lady +Geraldine. And, more than that, she had learned to regard herself as +the owner of the man, and of his future home. Her imagination had +been active in drawing pictures for herself of the life she was to +live,--pictures which for a time had been rosy-hued. But whatever the +tints may have been, and how far the bright colours may have become +dimmed, it had been as Lady Geraldine, and not as Cecilia Holt that +she had looked in the glass which had shown to herself her future +career. Now, within the last four-and-twenty hours,--for the last +crowning purpose of her resolution was hardly of longer date,--she +had determined to alter it all. But he as yet did not know it. He +still regarded her as his affianced bride. Now had come the moment in +which the truth must be told to him. + +As soon as her mother left the room, she got up from her seat, as +did also her lover. He, as soon as the door was closed, at once +attempted to put his arm round the girl's waist, as was his undoubted +privilege. She with the gentlest possible motion rejected his +embrace, and contrived to stand at a little distance from him. But +she said nothing. The subject to be discussed was so difficult that +words would not come to her assistance. Then he lent her his aid. +"You do not mean that you're in a tiff because of what I said just +now. Of course it is better that we should not be together for the +few days before our marriage." + +"I do not think that I am in a tiff, Sir Francis. I hope I am not, +because what I have to say is too serious for ill-humour." Then she +paused. "What I have got to say is of some importance;--of very great +importance. Sir Francis Geraldine, I feel that I have to ask you to +forgive me." + +"What on earth is the matter?" + +"You may well ask. And, indeed, I do not know how to excuse +myself. Your friends will say that I am frivolous, and vain, and +discontented." + +"What the mischief is it all about?" he demanded with an angry voice. + +She knew she had not as yet told him. She could perceive that he had +not gathered from her first words any inkling of the truth; and yet +she did not know how to tell him. If it were once told she could, she +thought, defend herself. But the difficulty was to find the words by +which she could let him know what was her intention. "Sir Francis, I +fear that we have misunderstood each other." + +"How misunderstood? Why Sir Francis? Am I to understand that you want +to quarrel with me because I am going away? If so speak it out. I +shall go just the same." + +"Your going has no bearing upon my present purpose. I had made up my +mind before I had heard of your going;--only when I did hear of it it +became necessary that I should tell you at once." + +"But you have told me nothing. I hate mysteries, and secrets, and +scenes. There is nothing goes against the grain so much with me as +tragedy airs. If you have done anything amiss that it is necessary +that I should know let me know it at once." As he said this there +came across his brow a look of anger and of hot ill-humour, such as +she had never seen there before. The effect was to induce her to +respect him rather than to be afraid of him. It was well that a man +should have the power and the courage to show his anger. + +But it encouraged her to proceed with her task. She certainly was not +afraid of him personally, though she did dread what the world might +say of her, and especially what might be said by his friends. "I do +not know that I have done anything amiss of which I need tell you," +she said with quiet dignity. "It is rather that which I intend to do. +I fear, Sir Francis, that you and I have made a mistake in this." + +"What mistake?" he shouted. "While you beat about the bush I shall +never understand you." + +"In our proposed marriage." + +"What?" + +"I fear that I should not make you happy." + +"What on earth do you mean?" Then he paused a moment before he +continued, which he did as though he had discovered suddenly the +whole secret. "You have got another lover." + +There was something in the idea so shocking to Cecilia, so +revolting,--so vulgar in the mode of expression, that the feeling +at once gave her the strength necessary to go on with her task. She +would not condescend to answer the accusation, but at once told her +story in plain language. "I think, Sir Francis Geraldine, that you do +not feel for me the regard that would make me happy as your wife. Do +not interrupt me just at present," she said, stopping him, as some +exclamation was escaping from his lips. "Hear me to the end, and, if +you have ought to say, I will then hear you. Of my own regard for you +I will say nothing. But I think that I have been mistaken as to your +nature. In fact, I feel sure that we are neither of us that which the +other supposed. It is lamentable that we should have fallen into such +an error, but it is well that even yet we can escape from it before +it is too late. As my mind is altogether made up, I can only ask your +pardon for what I have done to you, expressing myself sure at the +same time that I am now best consulting your future happiness." + +During this last speech of Cecilia's, Sir Francis had sat down, +while she still stood in her old place. He had seated himself on the +sofa, assuming as it were a look of profound ease, and arranging the +nails of one hand with the fingers of the other, as though he were +completely indifferent to the words spoken to him. "Have you done +yet?" he said as soon as she was silent. + +"Yes, I have done." + +"And you are sure that if I begin you will not interrupt me till I +have done?" + +"I think not,--if there be ought that you have to say." + +"Well, considering that ten minutes since I was engaged to make you +Lady Geraldine, and that I am now supposed to be absolved from any +such necessity, I presume you will think it expedient that I should +say something. I suppose that I have not been told the whole truth." +Then he stopped, as though in spite of his injunction as to her +silence he expected an answer from her. But she made none, though +there came a cloud of anger upon her face. "I suppose, I say, that +there is something of which it is not considered necessary that I +should be informed. There must be something of the kind, or you would +hardly abandon prospects which a few days since appeared to you to be +so desirable." + +"I have not thought it necessary to speak of your temper," she said. + +"Nor of your own." + +"Nor of my own," she added. + +"But there is, I take it, something beyond that. I do not think that +my temper, bad as it may be,--nor your own,--would have sufficed to +estrange you. There must be something more palpable than temper to +have occasioned it. And though you have not thought fit to tell me, +you must feel that my position justifies me in asking. Have you +another lover?" + +"No," she exclaimed, burning with wrath but with head so turned from +him that he should not see her. + +"Nor have ever had one? I am entitled to ask the question, though +perhaps I should have asked it before." + +"You are at any rate not entitled to ask it now. Sir Francis +Geraldine, between you and me all is over. I can only beg you to +understand most positively that all is over." + +"My dear Miss Holt, you need not insist upon that, as it is perfectly +understood." + +"Then there need be no further words. If I have done you any wrong I +ask your pardon. You have wronged me only in your thoughts. I must +take what consolation I can from the feeling that the injury will +fall chiefly upon my head and not upon yours." Then without a further +word of farewell she marched out of the room. + +Sir Francis, when he found himself alone, shook himself, as it were, +as he rose from the sofa, and looked about the room in amazement. It +was quite true that she was gone--gone, as far as he was concerned, +for ever. It did not occur to him for a moment that there could be +any reconciliation between them, and his first feeling undoubtedly +was one of amazed disappointment. Then, standing there in Mrs. Holt's +drawing-room, he began to bethink himself what could have been the +cause of it. Since the first week of his engagement he had begun and +had continued to tell himself what great things he was about to do +for Cecilia Holt. With her beauty, her grace, her dignity, and her +accomplishments he was quite satisfied. It was expedient that he +should marry, and he did not know that he could marry much better. +Cecilia, when her mother died, would have twenty thousand pounds, +and that in his eyes had been sufficient. But he was about to make +her Lady Geraldine, and the more that he thought of this, the more +grateful it had appeared to him that she should be to him. Then by +degrees, while he had expected from her expressions of gratitude, +she had rebelled against him! Of the meaning of this he had not been +quite conscious, but had nevertheless felt it necessary that he +should dominate her spirit. Up to the moment in which this interview +had begun he had thought that he was learning to do so. She had not +dared to ask him questions which would have been so natural, or to +demand from him services to which she was entitled. It was thus that +he had regarded her conduct. But he had never feared for a moment but +that he was on the road to success. Up to the moment at which he had +entered the room he had thought that he was progressing favourably. +His Cecilia was becoming tame in his hands, as was necessary. He +had then been altogether taken aback and surprised by her statement +to him, and could not for some moments get over his feeling of +amazement. At last he uttered a low whistle, and then walked slowly +out of the house. At the front door he found his horse, and, mounting +it, rode back into Exeter. As he did so he began to inquire of +himself whether this step which the girl had determined to take was +really a misfortune to him or the reverse. He had hardly as yet asked +himself any such question since the day on which he had first become +engaged to her. He had long thought of marrying, and one girl after +another had been rejected by him as he had passed them in review +through his thoughts. Then had come Cecilia's turn, and she had +seemed to answer the purpose. There had been about her an especial +dignity which had suited his views of matrimonial life. She was a +young woman as to whom all his friends would say that he had done +well in marrying her. But by degrees there had come upon him a +feeling of the general encumbrance of a wife. Would she not interfere +with him? Would she not wish to hinder him when he chose to lead a +bachelor's life? Newmarket for instance, and his London clubs, and +his fishing in Norway,--would she not endeavour to set her foot +upon them? Would it not be well that he should teach her that she +would not be allowed to interfere? He had therefore begun to teach +her,--and this had come of it! It had been quite unexpected, but +still he felt as though he were released from a burden. + +He had accused her of having had another lover. At the moment an idea +had passed through his mind that she was suddenly prompted by her +conscience to tell him something that she had hitherto concealed. +There had been some lover, probably, as to whom everyone had been +silent to him. He was a jealous man, and for a moment he had been +hurt. He would have said that his heart had been hurt. There was but +little of heart in it, for it may be doubted whether he had ever +loved her. But there was something pricked him which filled him for +the instant with serious thoughts. When he had asked the question he +wished to see her at his feet. There had come no answer, and he told +himself that he was justified in thinking the surmise to be true. He +was justified to himself, but only for the moment, for at the next +had come her declaration that all was to be over between them. The +idea of the lover became buried under the ruins which were thus made. + +So she intended to escape from him! But he also would escape +from her. After all, what an infinite trouble would a wife be to +him,--especially a wife of whose docility in harness he was not quite +assured. But there came upon him as he rode home an idea that the +world would say that he had been jilted. Of course he would have been +jilted, but there would be nothing in that except as the world might +speak of it. It was gall to him to have to think that the world of +Exeter should believe that Cecilia Holt had changed her mind, and had +sent him about his business. If the world of Exeter would say that +he had ill-used the girl, and had broken off the engagement for +mere fancy,--as she had done,--that would be much more endurable. +He could not say that such was the case. To so palpable a lie the +contradiction would be easy and disgraceful. But could he not so +tell the story as to leave a doubt on the minds of the people? That +question of another lover had not been contradicted. Thinking of it +again as he rode home he began to feel that the lover must be true, +and that her conduct in breaking off the engagement had been the +consequence. There had been some complication in the way of which +she had been unable to rid herself. At any rate it was quite out of +the question that he should have held himself to such an engagement, +complicated as it would have been with such a lover. There would be +some truth, therefore, in so telling the story as to leave the matter +in doubt, and in doubt he resolved that he would leave it. Before +he got back to the Deanery he was, he thought, thoroughly glad that +he should have been enabled so easily to slip his neck out of the +collar. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +THE END OF THAT EPISODE. + + +Cecilia during the following day told no one what had occurred, nor +on the morning of the next. Indeed she did not open her mouth on +the subject till Maude Hippesley came to her. She felt that she +was doing wrong to her mother by keeping her in the dark, but she +could not bring herself to tell it. She had, as she now declared +to herself, settled the question of her future life. To live with +her mother,--and then to live alone, must be her lot. She had been +accustomed, before the coming of Sir Francis, to speak of this as +a thing certain; but then it had not been certain, had not been +probable, even to her own mind. Of course lovers would come till the +acceptable lover should be accepted. The threats of a single life +made by pretty girls with good fortunes never go for much in this +world. Then in due time the acceptable lover had come, and had been +accepted. + +And to what purpose had she put him? She could not even now say of +what she accused him, having rejected him. What excuse could she +give? What answer could she allege? She was more sure than ever now +that she could not live with him as his wife. He had said words about +some former lover which were not the less painful, in that there had +been no foundation for them. There had in truth been nothing for her +to tell Sir Francis Geraldine. Out of her milk-white innocency no +confession was to be made. But what there was had all been laid bare +to him. There had been no lover,--but if there had, then there would +have been a lie told. She had said that there had been none, and he +had heard her assertion with those greedy ears which men sometimes +have for such telling. It was a comfort to him that there had been +none; and when something uncomfortable came in his way he immediately +thought that she had deceived him. She must bear with all that now. +It did not much matter, she assured herself, what he might think of +her. But for the moment she could hardly endure to think of it, much +less to talk of it. She did not know how to own to her mother that +she was simply a jilt without offering anything in excuse. The truth +must be told, but, oh, how bitter must the truth be! Even that +accusation as to the lover had not been made till after she had +resolved to reject him; and she could not bring herself to lie to her +mother by pretending that the one had caused the other. + +After lunch on the second day Maude Hippesley came down and found her +amongst the trees in the shrubbery. It will be remembered that Maude +was niece to Sir Francis, and was at the present time living in the +same house with him. "Cecilia," she said, "what is this that has +happened?" + +"He has told you then?" + +"What is it? He has told us all that you have quarrelled, and now he +has gone away." + +"Thank God for that!" + +"Yes;--he has gone. But he told us only just as he went. And he has +made a mystery of it,--so that I do not know how it has happened,--or +why." + +"Did I not tell you?" + +"Yes;--you told me something--something that made me think you mad. +But it is he that has rejected you now!" + +"Has he told you that?" + +"He has told us all so, just as he was leaving us. After his things +were packed up he told us." Cecilia stood still and looked into her +friend's face. Maude she knew could say nothing to her that was not +true. "He has made a mystery of it, but that has been the impression +he has left upon us. At any rate there has been a quarrel." + +"Yes;--there has been a quarrel." + +"And now our only business is to make it up. It is impossible that +two people who have loved each other as you have done should be +allowed to part in so absurd a manner. It is like two children who +think they are never to be friends again because of some momentary +disagreement." Maude Hippesley, who had not lived in the same town +with her lover and therefore had never quarrelled with him, was +awfully wise. "It is quite out of the question," she continued, +"that this thing should go on. I don't think it matters in the least +whether you quarrel with him or he with you. But of course you must +make it up. And as you are the woman it is only proper that you +should begin." + +How much had Cecilia to do before she could prove to her friend that +no such beginning was possible. In the first place there was the +falsehood, the base falsehood, which Sir Francis had told. In order +to save himself he had declared that he had rejected her. It was +very mean. At this moment its peculiar meanness made her feel doubly +sure that the man was altogether unfitted to be her husband. But she +would allow the false assertion to pass unnoticed. If he could find a +comfort in that let him have it. Perhaps upon the whole it would be +better that some such story should go forth in Exeter. It could not +be told by her because it was untrue; but for the moment she thought +that she might pass it by without notice. "There can be no fresh +beginning," she said. "We two have already come to the end of all +that is likely to take place between us. Dear Maude, pray do not +trouble me. No doubt as time goes by we shall talk of it all again. +But just at present, circumstanced as you are with him, nothing but +silence between you and me can be fitting. I hope that you and I at +any rate will never quarrel." + +After that she told her mother and her two other friends. Her mother +was for a week or two in despair. She endeavoured by means of the +family at the Deanery to bring about some reconciliation. The Dean, +who did not in truth like his brother-in-law and was a little afraid +of him, altogether refused to interfere in the matter. Mrs. Hippesley +was of opinion that the lovers would be sure to "come round" if left +to themselves. Maude who, though she had not liked her uncle, had +thought much of his position, and had been proud of the idea that +he should marry an Exeter girl and her own peculiar friend, was in +despair. But the Deanery collectively refused to take active steps in +the matter. Mrs. Green was of opinion that Cecilia must have behaved +badly. There had been some affair of pride in which she had declined +to give way. According to Mrs. Green's ideas a woman could hardly +yield too much to a man before marriage, so as to secure him, in +order that her time for management might come afterwards. With Miss +Altifiorla, Cecilia found for awhile more comfort; but even from this +noted hater of the other sex the comfort was not exactly of the kind +she wanted. Miss Altifiorla was of opinion that men on the whole are +bad, but seemed to think that among men this baronet was not a bad +specimen. He did not want a great deal of attention and was fairly +able to get about by himself without calling upon his future wife to +be always with him. Then he had a title and an income and a house; +and was in short one of those who are in a measure compelled to +marry. Miss Altifiorla thought it a pity that the match should be +broken off, but was quite ready to console her friend as to the +misfortune. + +There was one point as to which Cecilia was quite decided, and +in this Miss Altifiorla bore her out altogether. That question +of marriage was now settled once and for ever. Cecilia, much in +opposition to her friend's wishes, had tried her hand at it and had +failed. She had fallen grievously to the ground and had bruised +herself dreadfully in making the attempt. It had perhaps been +necessary, as Miss Altifiorla thought. It is not given to all to +know their own strength as it had been given to her. They had often +discussed these matters, and Miss Altifiorla had always been very +firm. So had Cecilia been firm; but then she had given way, had +broken down, had consented to regard herself as a mere woman and no +stronger than other women. She had given herself to a man in order +that she might be the mother of his children and the head servant +in his household. She had shown herself to be false for the moment +to her great principles. But Providence had intervened. It may be +surmised that Miss Altifiorla in discussing the matter with herself +did not use the word Providence. Nor was it Chance. And as the +rejection had come from the gentleman's hands,--so Miss Altifiorla +was taught to believe,--she could not boast that Cecilia had +accomplished it. But some mysterious agency had been at work which +would not permit so exceptional a young lady as Miss Holt to fall +into the common quagmire of marriage. She had escaped,--thanks to the +mysterious agency, and must be doubly, trebly, armed with resolution +lest she should stumble again. "I think," she said one day to +Cecilia, "I think that you have great cause to be thankful that he +should have repented of his bargain before it was too late." + +Flesh is flesh after all and human nature no stronger than human +nature. Cecilia had consented to bear in silence the idea that +she had been jilted, and had endured her mother's tender little +sympathies on the subject. But there was a difficulty to her in +suffering this direct statement from her friend. Why would not her +friend let the matter be passed by in silence? "It is well," she +said, "that we both repented." + +Now the subject had been much discussed in Exeter--whether Sir +Francis had jilted Miss Holt or Miss Holt Sir Francis. It had been +always present to Miss Hippesley's mind, that her friend had told +her of her intention at a time when she was quite sure that Sir +Francis had no such notion in his head. And when, on the day but one +following, she had told Cecilia of the statement which Sir Francis +had made at the Deanery, Cecilia had not contradicted it, but had +expressed her surprise. She therefore had resolved to decide the +question against her uncle, and had given rise to the party who were +on that side. But the outside world were strongly of opinion that +Sir Francis had been the first offender. It was so much the more +probable. Miss Altifiorla had always taken that side, and had spoken +everywhere of him as the great sinner. Still however there was a +doubt in her own mind, as to which she was desirous of receiving such +solution as Cecilia could give her. She was determined now to push +the question. "But," said she, "I suppose it originated with him? It +is a great thing for us to feel that you have not been to blame at +all in the matter." + +"I have been to blame," said Cecilia. + +"But how? The man comes here and proposes himself; and is accepted, +and then breaks away from his engagement without reason and without +excuse. It is a thing to be thankful for, that he should have done +so; but we have also to be thankful that the fault has not been on +our side." Miss Altifiorla had almost brought herself to believe +that the man had made love to her, and proposed to her, that she in +a moment of weakness had accepted him, and that she now had been +luckily saved by his inconstancy. + +"I think we will drop that part of the question," said Miss Holt, +showing by her manner that she did not choose to be cross-questioned. +"In such cases there is generally fault on both sides." Then there +was nothing further said on the subject, but Miss Altifiorla pondered +much over her friend's weakness in not being able to confess that she +had been jilted. + +All this had happened in the summer. During the gala days of the +projected wedding plans had been made, of course, for the honeymoon. +Sir Francis with his bride were to go here and to go there, and poor +Mrs. Holt had been fated to remain at home as though no arrangement +had been necessary for her happiness. Indeed none had been necessary. +She was quite content to remain at Exeter and expect such excitement +as might come to her from letters from Lady Geraldine. To talk to +everybody around her about Lady Geraldine would have sufficed for +her. And when all these hopes were broken up and it had been really +decided that there should be no wedding, when it became apparent that +Cecilia Holt was to remain as Cecilia Holt, still there was no autumn +tour. Cecilia had declared that in no place would life be so quiet +for her as at home. "Mamma," she had said, "let us prepare ourselves +for what is to come. You and I mean to live together happily, and our +life must be a home life!" Then she applied herself specially to the +flowers and the shrubs, and began even to look after the vegetables +in the fulness of her energy. In these days she did not see much +of her three friends. In August Maude was married and became Mrs. +Thorne. Mr. Thorne was the eldest son of a Squire from Honiton for +whom things were to be made modestly comfortable during his father's +life. Maude's coming marriage had not been counted as much during the +days of her friend's high hopes, but had risen in consideration since +the fall which had taken place. Between Miss Altifiorla and Cecilia +there had come, not a quarrel, but a coolness. The two ladies did +continue to see each other occasionally, but there was but little +between them to console misery. Miss Altifiorla had attempted +to resume her position of equality,--unreasoned and imaginary +equality,--with perhaps a slight step in advance to which in their +present circumstances she was entitled by their age. Cecilia cared +nothing for equality, but would not consent to be held to have lost +anything. Though Miss Altifiorla declared that her friend had risen +very highly in her sentiments, there was too evidently a depreciation +in her manner; and this Cecilia could not endure. Consequently the +two ladies were not, at this period, of much comfort one to the +other. With Mrs. Green matters might have been different; but Mrs. +Green too manifestly thought that Cecilia had been wrong, and still +clung to the idea that with proper management the baronet might be +made to come back again. With a lady holding such ideas as these +there could be no sympathy. + +In owning the truth it must be confessed that Cecilia at this period +of her life was too self-conscious. She did not think, but felt, that +the world all around her was suffused by a Holt-Geraldine aspect and +flavour. She could not walk abroad without an idea that the people +whom she saw were talking about her. She could not shut herself in +her garden without a conviction that the passers-by were saying that +the girl living there had been jilted by Sir Francis Geraldine. She +had been well aware of the greatness of the position in which she +was to have been placed; and though she had abandoned the situation +without a doubt as soon as she had learned her mistake as to the +man's character, still she felt the fall, and inwardly grieved over +it. She had not known herself at first,--how grievous would be her +isolation when she found herself alone. Such was the case with +her now, so that she fretted and made herself ill. By degrees she +confined herself more and more to the house, till her mother seeing +it, interfered. She became sick, captious, and querulous. The old +family doctor interfered and advised that she should be taken away +from Exeter. "For ever?" asked Mrs. Holt. The doctor did not say for +ever. Mrs. Holt might probably be able to let the house for a year +and go elsewhere for that period. Then there arose questions as to +all the pretty furniture, and their household goods. Cecilia herself +was most unwilling. But before Christmas came, arrangements had been +made, and the house was let, and the first of January saw Mrs. Holt +and her daughter comfortably established in a pension at Nice. Mrs. +Holt at any rate declared that she was comfortable, though Cecilia +on her mother's behalf stated it to be impossible. She herself told +herself,--though she had whispered no word on the subject to living +ears,--she herself told herself that she had been driven abroad by +the falsehood which Sir Francis had told. She could not bear to live +in Exeter as the girl that had been jilted. + +This is the episode in the life of Cecilia Holt which it is necessary +should be first told. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +MR. WESTERN. + + +The Holts travelled about during the whole of that year, passing the +summer in Switzerland and the autumn in the north of Italy, and found +themselves at Rome in November, with the intention of remaining there +for the winter. One place was the same to them as another, and it +was necessary that they should at any rate exist until the term had +expired for which they had let their house. Mrs. Holt had I think +enjoyed her life. She had been made more of than at home, and had +been happy amidst the excitement. But with Cecilia it had been +for many months as though all things had been made of leather and +prunello. She had not cared, or had not seemed to care, for scenery +or for cities. In that last episode of her life she had aspired to +a new career, and had at first been fairly successful. And she had +loved the man honestly for a time, and had buoyed herself up with +great intentions as to the future duties of her life. Then had come +her downfall, in which it was commonly said of her that she had been +jilted by her lover. Even when the mountains of Switzerland had been +so fine before her eyes as in truth to console her by their beauty, +she had not admitted that she was consoled. The Campanile at Florence +had filled her with that satisfaction which comes from supreme +beauty. But still when she went home to her hotel she thought more +of Sir Francis Geraldine than of the Campanile. To have been jilted +would be bad, but to have it said of her that she had been jilted +when she was conscious that it was untrue was a sore provocation. +And yet no one could say but that she had behaved well and been +instigated by good motives. She had found that her lover was ignoble, +and did not love her. And she had at once separated herself from him. +And, since that, in all her correspondence with her friends she had +quietly endured the idea which would continually crop up that she had +been jilted. She never denied it; but it was the false accusation +rather than the loss of all that her marriage had promised her +which made her feel the Matterhorn and the Campanile to be equally +ineffective. Then there gradually came to her some comfort from a +source from which she had certainly not expected it. On their travels +they had become acquainted with a Mr. Western, a silent, shy, almost +middle-aged man, whom they had sat next to at dinner for nearly a +week before they had become acquainted with him. But they had passed +on from scenery to city, and, as had been their fortune, Mr. Western +had passed on with them. Who does not know the way in which some +strange traveller becomes his friend on a second or a third meeting +in some station or hotel saloon? In this way Mrs. Holt and Cecilia +had become acquainted with Mr. Western, and on parting with him at +Venice in October had received with gratification the assurance that +he would again "turn up" in Rome. + +"He is a very good sort of man," said Mrs. Holt to her daughter that +night. Cecilia agreed, but with perhaps less enthusiasm than her +mother had displayed. For Mrs. Holt the assertion had been quite +enthusiastic. But Cecilia did think that Mr. Western had made himself +agreeable. He was an unmarried man, however, and there had been +something in the nature of a communication which he had made to her, +that had prevented her from being loud in his praise. Not that the +communication had been one which had in any way given offence; but it +had been unexpected, confidential, and of such a nature as to create +much thought. No doubt an intimacy had sprung up between them. But +yet it was singular that a man apparently so reticent as Mr. Western +should make such a communication. How the intimacy had grown by +degrees need not here be explained, but that it had grown to be very +close will appear from the nature of the story told. + +The story was one of Mr. Western's own life and was as follows. He +was a man of good but not of large fortune. He had been to Oxford +and had there distinguished himself. He had been called to the bar +but had not practised. He had gone into Parliament, but had left it, +finding that the benches of the House of Commons were only fitted for +the waste of time. He had joined scientific societies to which he +still belonged, but which he did not find to be sufficient for his +happiness. During these attempts and changes he had taken a house in +London, and having a house had thought it well to look for a wife. +He had become engaged to a certain Miss Mary Tremenhere, and by +her he had been--jilted. Since that, for twelve months he had been +travelling abroad in quest, he said, not of consolation, but of some +mitigation of his woe. Cecilia, when she heard this, whispered to +him one little question, "Do you love her?" "I thought I did," he +answered. And then the subject was dropped. + +It was a most singular communication for him to make. Why should he, +an elderly man as she at first took him to be, select her as the +recipient for such a tale? She took him to be an elderly man, till +she found by the accidents of conversation that he was two years +younger than Sir Francis Geraldine. Then she looked into his face and +saw that that appearance of age had come upon him from sorrow. There +was a tinge of grey through his hair, and there were settled lines +about his face, and a look of steadied thought about his mouth, which +robbed him of all youth. But when she observed his upright form, and +perceived that he was a strong stalwart man, in the very pride of +manhood as far as strength was concerned,--then she felt that she +had wronged him. Still he was one who had suffered so much as to be +entitled to be called old. She felt the impossibility of putting +him in the same category among men as that filled by Sir Francis +Geraldine. The strength of manhood was still there, but not the salt +of youth. But why should he have told her,--her who had exactly the +same story to tell back again, if only she could tell it? Once or +twice there came to her an idea that she would tell it. He had sought +for sympathy, not under the assurance of secrecy but with the full +conviction, as she felt it, that his secret would be safe. Why should +not she do the same? That there would be great comfort in doing so +she was well aware. To have some one who would sympathise with her! +Hitherto she had no one. Even her mother, who was kindness, even +obedience itself, who attended to her smallest wish, even her mother +regretted the baronet son-in-law. "And yet she would have been left +all alone," she said to herself, marvelling at the unselfish fondness +of a mother. Mr. Western would be bound to sympathise. Having called +upon her for sympathy, his must be ready. But when she had thought of +it thrice she did not do it. Were she to tell her story it would seem +as though she were repeating to him back his own. "I too have been in +love, and engaged, and have jilted a gentleman considerably my senior +in age." She would have to say that, likening herself to the girl who +had jilted him,--or else to tell the other story, the untrue story, +the story which the world believed, in order that she might be on a +par with him. This she could not do. If she told any she must tell +the truth, and the truth was not suitable to be told. Therefore she +kept her peace, and sympathised with a one-sided sympathy. + +In Rome they did again meet, and on this occasion they met as quite +old friends. He called upon them at their hotel and sat with them, +happier than usual in his manner, and, for him, almost light and gay +of heart. Parties were made to St. Peter's, and the Coliseum, and the +Capitol. When he left on that occasion Cecilia remarked to her mother +how much less triste he was than usual. "Men, I suppose," she said to +herself, "get over that kind of thing quicker than women." + +In Rome it seemed to Cecilia that Mr. Western, when alone with her, +had no other subject for conversation than the ill-treatment he had +received from Mary Tremenhere. His eagerness in coming back to the +subject quite surprised her. She herself was fascinated by it, but +yet felt it would be better were she to put a stop to it. There was +no way of doing this unless she were to take her mother from Rome. +She could not tell him that on that matter he had said enough, nor +could she warn him that so much of confidential intercourse between +them would give rise in the minds of others to erroneous ideas. Her +mother never seemed to see that there was anything peculiar in their +intercourse. And so it went on from day to day and from week to week. + +"You asked me once whether I loved her," he said one day. "I did; +but I am astonished now that it should have been so. She was very +lovely." + +"I suppose so." + +"The most perfect complexion that was ever seen on a lady's cheek." +Cecilia remembered that her complexion too had been praised before +this blow had fallen upon her. "The colour would come and go so +rapidly that I used to marvel what were the thoughts that drove the +blood hither and thither. There were no thoughts,--unless of her own +prettiness and her own fortunes. She accepted me as a husband because +it was necessary for her to settle in life. I was in Parliament, and +that she thought to be something. I had a house in Chester Square, +and that was something. She was promised a carriage, and that +conquered her. As the bride I had chosen for myself she became known +to many, and then she began to understand that she might have done +better with herself. I am old, and not given to many amusements. Then +came a man with a better income and with fewer years; and she did +not hesitate for a moment. When she took me aside and told me that +she had changed her mind, it was her quiescence and indifference +that disturbed me most. There was nothing of her new lover; but +simply that she did not love me. I did not stoop for a moment to a +prayer. I took her at her word, and left her. Within a week she was +acknowledged to be engaged to Captain Geraldine." + +The naming of the name of course struck Cecilia Holt. She remembered +to have heard something of the coming marriage by her lover's cousin, +and something, too, of the story of the girl. But it had reached her +ear in the lightest form, and had hardly remained in her memory. It +was now of no matter, as she had determined to keep her own history +to herself. Therefore she made no exclamation when the name of +Geraldine was mentioned. + +"How could I love her after that?" he continued, betraying the strong +passion which he felt. "I had loved a girl whose existence I had +imagined, and of whom I had seen merely the outward form, and had +known nothing of the inner self. What is it that we love?" he +continued. "Is it merely the coloured doll, soft to touch and +pleasant to kiss? Or is it some inner nature which we hope to +discover, and of which we have found the outside so attractive? I had +found no inner self which it had been possible that I could love. He +was welcome to the mere doll who was wanted simply that she should +grace his equipage. I have asked myself, Why is it that I am so +sorely driven, seeing that in truth I do not love her? I would not +have her now for all the world. I know well how providential has been +my escape. And yet I go about like a wounded animal, who can find +none to consort with him. Till I met you, and learnt to talk to you, +I was truly miserable. And why? Because I had been saved from falling +when standing on a precipice! Because the engine had not been allowed +to crush me when passing along on its iron road! Ought I not to +rejoice and be thankful rather, as I think of what I have escaped? +But in truth it is the poor weakness of human nature. People say that +I have been--jilted. What matters it to me what people say? I have +been saved, and as time goes on I shall know it and be thankful." + +Every word of it came home to her and gave her back her own story. +There was her own soreness, and her own salvation. There was the +remembrance of what the people in Exeter were saying of her, only +slightly relieved by the conviction that she had been preserved from +a life of unhappiness. But she had never been able to look at it +quite as he did. He knew that the better thing had happened to him; +but she, though she knew it also, was sore at heart because people +told the story, as she thought, to her discredit. There was, indeed, +this difference between them. It was said truly of him that the girl +had jilted him, but falsely of her that she had been jilted. + +She, however, told him nothing of her own life. There had come +moments in which she was sorely tempted. But she had allowed them to +pass by, telling herself on each occasion that this at any rate was +not the moment. She could not do it now,--or now,--or now, lest there +should seem to be some peculiar motive on her own part. And so the +matter went on till there had arisen a feeling of free confidence on +the one side, and of absolute restraint on the other. She could not +do it, she said to herself. Much as she trusted Mr. Western, deeply +as she regarded him as her friend, strongly as she wished that the +story had been told to him at some former passage of their intimacy, +the proper time had passed by, she said, and he must be left in his +ignorance. + +Then one day there happened that which the outside world at Rome +had long expected; and among the number Mrs. Holt. George Western +proposed to marry Cecilia Holt. Of all the world at Rome who had +watched the two together she probably was the last who thought of any +such idea. But even to her the idea must surely have come in some +shape before the proposal. He had allowed her to feel that he was +only happy in her company, and he had gradually fallen into the habit +of confiding to her in everything. He had told her of his money, +and of his future life. He had consulted her about his books, +and pictures he had bought, and even about the servants of his +establishment. She cannot but have expected it. But yet when the +moment came she was unable to give him an answer. + +It was not that she did not think that she liked him. She had been +surprised to find how fond she had gradually become of him;--how Sir +Francis had faded in her memory, and had become a poor washed-out +daub of a man while this other had grown into the proportions of a +hero. She did not declare to herself that she loved him, but she +was sure that she could do so. But two reasons did for a while make +her feel that she could not accept him. The one was weak as water, +but still it operated with her. Since she had been abroad she had +corresponded regularly with Miss Altifiorla, and Miss Altifiorla in +her letters had been very strong in her aversion to matrimony. Many +things had been said apparently with the intention of comforting +Cecilia, but written in truth with the view of defending herself. "I +have chosen the better side, and have been true to it without danger +of stumbling." So it was that Miss Altifiorla put it. "You, dearest +Cecilia, have had an accident, but have recovered and stand once more +upon the solid ground. Take care, oh, take care, that you do not +fall!" Cecilia did not remember that any chance of stumbling had come +in Miss Altifiorla's way; and was upon the whole disgusted by the +constancy of her friend's arguments. But still they did weigh, and +drove her to ask herself whether, in truth, an unmarried life was not +the safer for a woman. But the cause which operated the strongest +with her was the silence which she had herself maintained. There was +indeed no reason why she should not at once begin and tell her story. +But in doing so it would appear that she had been induced to do it +only by Mr. Western's offer. And she cheated herself by some vague +idea that she would be telling the secrets of another person. "Had +it been for myself only," she said to herself, "I would have done it +long since. But that which made it improper then would make it still +more improper now." And so she held her peace and told Mr. Western +nothing of the story. + +He came to her the day after his offer and demanded her answer. But +she was not as yet able to give it to him. She had in the meantime +told her mother, and had received from her that ready, willing, quick +assurance of her sanction which was sure to operate in a different +way than that intended. Her mother was thinking only of her material +interests,--of a comfortable house and a steady, well-to-do life's +companion. Of what more should she have thought? the reader will +say. But Cecilia had still in her head undefined, vague notions of +something which might be better than that,--of some companion who +might be better than the companions which other girls generally +choose for themselves. She dreamed of some one who should sit with +her during the long mornings and read Dante to her,--when she should +have taught herself to understand it; of some one with a hidden +nobility of character which should be all but divine. Her invectives +against matrimony had all come from a fear lest the man with the +hidden nobility should not be forthcoming. She had tried, or had +nearly tried, Sir Francis Geraldine, and had made one hideous +mistake. Was or was not this Mr. Western a man with all such hidden +nobility? If so she thought that she might love him. + +She required a week, and gave her whole thoughts to the object. +Should she or should she not abandon that mode of life to which +she had certainly pledged herself? In the first days of the misery +created by the Geraldine disruption she had declared that she would +never more open her ears or her heart to matrimonial projects. The +promise had only been made to Miss Altifiorla,--to Miss Altifiorla +and to herself. At the present moment she did not greatly regard Miss +Altifiorla;--but the promise made to herself and corroborated by her +assurance to another, almost overcame her. And then there was that +story which she could not now tell to Mr. Western. She could not say +to him:--"Yes, I will accept you, but you must first hear my tale;" +and then tell him the exact copy of his own to her. And yet it +was necessary that he should know. The time must come,--some day. +Alas! she did not remember that no day could be less painful,--less +disagreeable than the present. If he did not like the story now he +could tell her so, and have done with it. There could be no fault +found with her. It had hitherto been free to her to tell it or not +as she pleased. "I had not meant to have disclosed my secret, but now +it is necessary." Even had he fancied that she had "invented it" in +part and made it like to his own, no harm,--no dangerous harm would +come from that. He could but be angry and recede from his offer. +But she found that she did not wish him to recede. Her objections +to matrimony had all been cured. She told herself at the last +moment that she was not able to undergo the absurdity of such a +revelation,--and she accepted him. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +CECILIA'S SECOND CHANCE. + + +It became at once necessary that Mr. Western should start off for +London. That had been already explained. He would go, whether +accepted or refused. When she had named a week, he had told her that +he should only have just time to wait for her reply. She offered to +be ready in five days, but he would not hurry her. During the week +she had hardly seen him, but she was aware that he remained silent, +moody, almost sullen. She was somewhat afraid of his temper;--but yet +she had found him in other respects so open, so noble, so consistent! +"It shall be so," she said, putting her hand into his. Then his very +nature seemed to have changed. It appeared as though nothing could +restrain him in the expression of his satisfaction. Nothing could be +more quietly joyous than his manner. He was to have left Rome by a +mid-day train, but he would wait for a train at midnight in order +that he might once dine with his own wife that was to be. "You will +kill yourself with the fatigue," Cecilia said. But he laughed at her. +It was not so easy to kill him. Then he sat with her through the +long morning, telling her of the doings of his past life, and his +schemes for the life to come. He had a great book which he wanted to +write,--as to which everybody might laugh at him but she must not +laugh. He laughed at himself and his aspiration; but she promised all +her sympathy, and she told him of their house at Exeter, and of her +mother's future loneliness. He would do anything for her within his +power. Her mother should live with them if she wished it. And she +spoke of the money which was to be her own, and told him of the offer +which her mother had made as to giving up a portion of it. Of this +he would have none. And he told her how it must be settled. And he +behaved just as a lover should do,--taking upon himself to give +directions, but giving all the directions just such as she would have +them. + +Then he went; and there came upon her a cold, chilling feeling that +she had already been untrue to him. It was a feeling as to which +she could not speak, even to her mother. But why had not her mother +advised her and urged her to tell him everything? Her mother had said +not a word to her about it. Why did her mother treat her as though +she were one to be feared, and beyond the possibility of advice? But +to her mother she said not a word on the subject. From the moment in +which Mr. Western had first begun to pay her attention, the name of +Sir Francis had never been mentioned between the mother and daughter. +And now in all their intercourse Mrs. Holt spoke with an unclouded +serenity of their future life. It was to her as though the Geraldine +episode had been absolutely obliterated from the memory of them +all. Mr. Western to her was everything. She would not accept his +magnificent offer of a home, because she knew that an old woman in a +man's house could only be considered as in his way. She would divide +her income, and give at any rate a third to her daughter. And she did +bestow much advice as to the manner in which everything should be +done so as to tend to his happiness. His tastes should be adopted, +and his ways of life should be studied. His pursuits should be made +her pursuits, and his friends her friends. All this was very well. +Cecilia knew all that without any teaching from her mother. Her +instincts told her as much as that. But what was she to do with this +secret which loaded her bosom, but as to which she could not bring +herself even to ask her mother's advice? + +Then she made up her mind that she would write to her lover and +relate the whole story as to Sir Francis Geraldine. And she did +write it; but she was alarmed at finding that the story, when told, +extended itself over various sheets of paper. And the story would +take the shape of a confession,--as though she were telling her lover +of some passage in her life of which she had cause to be ashamed. +She knew that there was no ground for shame. She had done nothing +which she ought not to have done, nothing which she could not have +acknowledged to him without a blush. When the letter was completed, +she found it to be one which she could not send. It was as though she +were telling him something, on reading which he would have to decide +whether their engagement should or should not be continued. This +was not at all her purpose. Thinking of it all with a view to his +happiness, and to his honour, she did not wish him to suppose that +there could be a doubt on that subject. It was clear to her that a +letter so worded was not fit for the occasion, and she destroyed +it. Still she was minded to write to him, but for the moment she +postponed her purpose. Of course she wrote to her friends in Exeter. +Were she to be silent to them it would appear as though she were +ashamed of what she was now doing. She told Maude Hippesley,--or Mrs. +Thorne as she was now called; and she told Mrs. Green, and also Miss +Altifiorla. Immediate answers came from the three. Those from the +two married ladies were in all respects satisfactory. That from Mrs. +Thorne was quite enthusiastic in its praises of matrimony. That from +Mrs. Green was a little less warm, but was still discreetly happy. +She had no doubt in her own mind that a married life was preferable, +and that Mr. Western, though perhaps a little old, was upon the whole +a well-chosen and deserving consort for life. But the letter from +Miss Altifiorla was very different from these, and as it had some +effect perhaps in producing the circumstances which are to be told, +it shall be given at length:-- + +"MY DEAR CECILIA,--I am of course expected to congratulate you, and +as far as Mr. Western's merits are concerned, I do so with my full +heart. He is possessed, I have no doubt, of all those virtues which +should adorn a husband, and is in all respects the very opposite to +Sir Francis Geraldine. You give me to understand that he is steady, +hard-working, and properly ambitious. In spite of the mistake which +you made in reference to Sir Francis Geraldine, I will not doubt but +that your judgment in respect to Mr. Western will be found correct. +If it is to be I dare say it could not be better. But must it be?" +"Of course it must," said Cecilia to herself, feeling very angry with +Miss Altifiorla for raising the question at such a time and in such +a manner. "After all the sweet converse and sweeter resolutions that +have passed between us on this matter, must all be abandoned like +a breath of summer wind, meaning nothing?" Of what infinitely bad +taste was not the woman guilty, in thus raising the question when +the only final answer to it had been already given? Cecilia felt +ashamed of herself as she thought of this, in that she had admitted +the friendship of such a friend. "A breath of summer wind!" she +said, repeating with scorn her friend's somewhat high-flown words. +"I cannot but say that, like Martha, you have chosen the worser +part," continued the letter. "The things of the world, which are in +themselves but accidents, have been for a moment all in all to you; +but knowing you as I do, I am aware how soon they will fade away, +and have no more than their proper weight. Then you will wake some +day, and feel that you have devoted yourself to the mending of his +stockings and the feeding of his babies." There was something in this +which stirred Cecilia to absolute wrath. If there were babies would +they not be her babies as well as his? Was it not the intention of +the Lord that the world should be populated? The worser part, indeed! +Then she took up the cudgels in her own mind on behalf of Martha, as +she had often done before. How would the world get on unless there +were Marthas? And was it not more than probable that a self-dubbed +Mary should fall into idle ways under the pretence that she was +filled with special inspiration? Looking at Miss Altifiorla as a +Mary, she was somewhat in love with the Marthas. + +"I do not doubt that Mr. Western is what he should be," the letter +went on, "but even judging him by your letter, I find that he is +autocratic and self-opinioned. It is his future life and not yours of +which he is thinking, his success and not yours, his doings and not +your doings." "How does she know?" exclaimed Cecilia. "She has only +my account of him, and not his of me." "And he is right in this," +went on the letter, "because the ways of the world allow such +privileges to men. What would a man be unless he took the place +which his personal strength has obtained for him? For women, in the +general, of course matrimony is fit. They have to earn their bread, +and think of little else. To be a man's toy and then his slave, with +due allowance for food and clothes, suffices for them. But I had +dreamed a dream that it would not suffice for you. Alas, alas! I +stand alone now in the expression of my creed. You must excuse me if +I repine, when I find myself so cruelly deserted." + +All this Cecilia felt to be as absurd as it was ill-timed;--and +to be redeemed, as it were, from its ill-nature by its ridiculous +philosophy. But at last there came a paragraph which admitted of +no such excuse. "What has Mr. Western said as to the story of Sir +Francis Geraldine? Of course you have told him the whole, and I +presume that he has pardoned that episode. In spite of the expression +of feelings which I have been unable to control, you must believe, +dear Cecilia, that I am as anxious as ever for your happiness, and +am, + +"Your most affectionate friend, + +"FRANCESCA ALTIFIORLA." + + +Cecilia, when she had completed the reading of the letter, believed +nothing of the kind. That last paragraph about Sir Francis had turned +all her kindly feelings into wrath, and contained one word which she +knew not how to endure. She was told that Mr. Western had "pardoned" +the Geraldine episode in her life. She had done nothing for which +pardon had been necessary. To merit pardon there must have been +misconduct; and as this woman had known all her behaviour in that +matter, what right had she to talk of pardon? In what had she +deserved pardon;--or at any rate the pardon of Mr. Western? There had +been a foolish engagement made between her and Sir Francis Geraldine, +which had been most wisely dissolved. The sin, if sin there had been, +was against Sir Francis, and certainly had never been considered as +sin by this woman who now wrote to her. Was it a sin that she had +loved before, a matter as to which Mr. Western was necessarily in +ignorance when he first came to her? But might it not come to pass +that his pardon should be required in that the story had never been +told to him? It was the sting which came from that feeling which +added fierceness to her wrath. "Of course you have told him the +whole, and I presume that he has pardoned that episode!" She had not +told Mr. Western the whole, and had thus created another episode for +which his pardon might be required. It was this that the woman had +intended to insinuate, understanding with her little sharpness, with +her poor appreciation of character, how probable it was that Cecilia +should not have told him of her previous engagement. + +She sat thinking of it all that night till the matter assumed new +difficulties in her mind's eyesight. And she began to question to +herself whether Mr. Western had a right to her secret,--whether the +secret did not belong to two persons, and she was bound to keep it +for the sake of the other person. She had committed a wrong, an +injury, or at any rate had inflicted a deserved punishment upon Sir +Francis; one as to which a man would naturally much dislike that +it should be noised about the world. Was she not bound to keep her +secret still a secret for his sake? She was angry with herself when +she asked the question, but still she asked it. She knew that she +owed nothing to Sir Francis Geraldine, and that she owed all to Mr. +Western. But still she asked it, because in that way could she best +strengthen herself against the telling of the story. The more she +turned the matter in her mind, the more impossible to her became +the task of telling it. At last she resolved that she would not +tell it now. She would not tell it at any rate till she again saw +him,--because Miss Altifiorla had told her that she "presumed he had +pardoned her that episode." + +It was arranged that they should be married at Exeter in April. Their +house there was not yet vacant, but would be lent to them for a +fortnight. After the marriage Mrs. Holt would go into lodgings, and +remain there till the house should be ready for her. But they were +both to return to Exeter together, and then there would be bustle +and confusion till the happy ceremony should have been performed. It +was arranged that she should have but two bridesmaids, but she was +determined that she would not ask Miss Altifiorla to be one of them. +A younger sister of Mrs. Green and a younger sister also of Maude +Hippesley were chosen. Miss Altifiorla, when she came to see Cecilia +on her return, expressed herself as quite satisfied. "It is best so, +dear," she said. "I was afraid that you would ask me. Of course I +should have done it, but my heart would not have been there. You can +understand it all, I know." Cecilia's wrath had become mitigated by +this time, and she answered her friend civilly. "Just so. You think +I ought to be an old maid, and therefore do not like to lend a hand +at turning me into a young wife. I have got two girls who have no +objection on that score." "You might find a hundred in Exeter," said +Miss Altifiorla proudly, "and yet I may be right in my opinions." + +Mr. Western was to come down to Exeter only on the day before the +marriage. The Holts had seen him as they came through London where +they slept one night, but as yet the story had not been told. Cecilia +expected, almost wished, that the story might reach him from other +quarters. It was so natural now that he should talk about the girl +whom he intended to marry, and so natural,--as Cecilia thought,--that +in doing so he should hear the name of Sir Francis Geraldine. Sir +Francis was a man well known to the world of fashion, and many men +must have heard of his intended marriage. Cecilia, though she almost +hoped, almost feared that it should be so. The figure of Mr. Western +asking with an angry voice why he had not been told did alarm her. +But he asked no such question, nor, as far as Cecilia knew, had he +heard anything of Sir Francis when the Holts passed through London. + +Nor did he seem to have heard it when he came down to Exeter. At any +rate he did not say a word respecting Sir Francis. He spent the last +evening with the Holts in their own house, and Cecilia felt that he +had never before made himself so happy with her, so pleasant, and so +joyous. It had been the same during their long walk together in the +afternoon. He was so full of affairs which were his own, which were +so soon to become her own, that there was not a moment for her in +which she could tell the story. There are stories for the telling of +which a peculiar atmosphere is required, and this was one of them. +She could not interrupt him in the middle of his discourse and +say:--"Oh, by-the-bye,--there is something that I have got to say to +you." To tell the story she must tune her mind to the purpose. She +must begin it in a proper tone, and be sure that he would be ready to +hearken to it as it should be heard. She felt that the telling would +be specially difficult in that it had been put off so long. But +though she had made up her mind to tell it before she had started on +her walk, the desirable moment never came. So she again put it off, +saying that it should be done late at night when her mother had gone +to her bed. The time came when he was alone with her, sitting with +his arm around her waist, telling her of all the things she should do +for him to make his life blessed;--and how he too would endeavour to +do some little things for her in order that her life might be happy. +She would not tell it then. Though little might come of it, she could +not do it. And yet from day to day the feeling had grown upon her +that it was certainly her duty to let him know that one accident in +her life. There was no disgrace in it, no cause for anger on his +part, nor even for displeasure if it had only been told him at Rome. +He could then have taken her, or left her as he pleased. Of course +he would have taken her, and the only trouble of her life would have +been spared her. What possible reason could there have been that he +should not take her? It was not any reason of that kind which had +kept her silent. Of that she was quite confident. Indeed now she +could not explain to herself why she had held her peace. It seemed to +her as though she must have been mad to have let day after day go by +at Rome and never to have mentioned to him the name of Sir Francis +Geraldine. But such, alas! had been the fact. And now the time had +come in which she found it to be impossible to tell the story. As +she went for the last time to her solitary bed she endeavoured to +console herself by thinking that he must have heard of it from other +quarters. But then again she declared that he in his nobility would +certainly not have been silent. He would have questioned her and then +have told her that all was right between them. But now as she tossed +unhappily on her pillow she told herself that all was wrong. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +WHAT ALL HER FRIENDS SAID ABOUT IT. + + +And "all went merry as a marriage bell." George Western and Cecilia +Holt were married in the cathedral by the Dean, who was thus supposed +to show his great anger at his brother-in-law's conduct. And this was +more strongly evinced by the presence of all the Hippesleys;--for all +were there to grace the ceremony except Maude, who was still absent +with her young squire, and who wrote a letter full of the warmest +affection and congratulations, which Cecilia received on that very +morning. Miss Altifiorla also came to the cathedral, with pink bows +in her bonnet, determined to show that though she were left alone in +her theory of life she did not resent the desertion. And Mrs. Green +was there, humble and sweet-tempered as ever, snubbing her husband +a little who assisted at the altar, and whispering a word into her +friend's ears to assure her that she had done the proper thing. + +It is hardly necessary to say that on the morning of her wedding it +was in truth impossible for Cecilia to tell the story. It had now to +be left untold, with what hope there might be for smoothing it over +in some future stage of her married life. She had done the deed now, +and had married the man with the untold secret in her heart. The sin +surely could not be of a nature to weigh so deeply on her conscience! +She endeavoured to comfort herself with that idea again and again. +How many girls are married who have been engaged to, or at least in +love with, half-a-dozen suitors before the man has come who is at +last to be their lord! But Cecilia told herself, as she endeavoured +thus to find comfort, that her nature was not such as theirs. This +thing which she had done was a sin or not a sin, according as it +might be regarded by the person who did it. It was a sin to her, a +heavy, grievous sin, and one that weighed terribly on her conscience +as she repeated the words after the Dean at the altar that morning. +There was a moment in which she almost refused to repeat them,--in +which she almost brought herself to demand that she might retire for +a time with him who was not yet her husband, and give him another +chance. Her mind entertained an exaggerated feeling of it, a feeling +which she felt to be exaggerated but which she could not restrain. +In the meantime the service went on; the irrevocable word was spoken; +and when it was done she was led away into the cathedral vestry as +sad a bride as might be. + +And yet nobody had seen her trouble. With a capacity for struggling, +infinitely greater than that possessed by any man, she had smiled +and looked happy beneath her bridal finery, as though no grief had +weighed heavily at her heart. And he was as jocund a bridegroom +as ever put a ring upon a lady's finger. All that gloom of his, +which had seemed to be his nature till after she had accepted him, +had vanished altogether. And he carried himself with no sheepish, +shame-faced demeanour as though half ashamed of the thing which he +had done. He seemed as proud to be a bridegroom as ever girl was to +become a bride. And in truth he was proud of her and did think that +he had chosen well. After the former troubles of his life he did feel +that he had brought himself to a happy haven at last. + +There was a modest breakfast at Mrs. Holt's house, from which the +guests departed quickly as soon as the bride and bridegroom had been +taken away to the railway station. But when the others were gone +Miss Altifiorla remained,--out of kindness. Mrs. Holt need make no +stranger of her, and it would be so desolate for her to be alone. +So surmised Miss Altifiorla. "I suppose," said she, when she had +fastened up the pink ribbons so that they might not be soiled by the +trifle with which she prepared to regale herself while she asked the +question, "I suppose that he knows all the story about that other +man?" + +"Why should he?" asked Mrs. Holt in a sharp tone that was quite +uncommon to her. + +"Well; I do not know much about such things, but I presume it is +common to tell a gentleman when anything of that kind has occurred." + +"What business has he to know? And what can it matter? Perhaps he +does know it." + +"But Cecilia has not told him?" + +"Why should she tell him? I don't think that it is a thing we need +talk about. You may be quite sure that Cecilia has done what is +proper." In saying this Mrs. Holt belied her own thoughts. Cecilia +had never said a word to her about it, nor had she dared to say +a word to her own daughter on the subject. She had been intently +anxious that her daughter should be married, and when she had seen +Mr. Western in the act of falling in love, had studiously abstained +from all subjects which might bring about a reference to Sir Francis +Geraldine. But she had felt that her daughter would make that all +straight. Her daughter was so much more wise, so much more certain to +do what was right, so much more high-minded than was she, that she +considered herself bound to leave all that to Cecilia. But as the +days went on and the hour fixed for the marriage became nearer and +nearer she had become anxious. Something seemed to tell her that a +duty had been omitted. But the moment had never come in which she had +been able to ask her daughter. And now she would not endure to be +cross-examined on the subject by Miss Altifiorla. + +But Miss Altifiorla was not at all afraid of Mrs. Holt, and was +determined to push the question a little further. "He ought to know, +you know. I am sure Cecilia will have thought that." + +"If he ought to know then he does know," said Mrs. Holt with great +certainty. "I am sure we may leave all that to Cecilia herself. If +he is satisfied with her, it does not matter much who else may be +dissatisfied." + +"Oh, if he is satisfied, that is enough," said Miss Altifiorla as she +took her leave. But she felt sure that the secret had not been told, +and that it ought to have been told, and she felt proud to think +that she had spotted the fault. Cecilia Holt would have done very +well in the world had she confined herself,--as she had solemnly +promised,--to those high but solitary feminine duties to which +Miss Altifiorla had devoted herself. But she had chosen to make +herself the slave of a man who,--as Miss Altifiorla expressed it +to herself,--"would turn upon her and rend her." And she, Miss +Altifiorla, had seen and did see it all. The time might come when the +wounded dove would return to her care. Of course she hoped that the +time would not come;--but it might. + +"I'll tell you one thing," said Mrs. Green to her husband as they +walked home from the breakfast. "That girl has not yet said a word to +that man about Sir Francis Geraldine." + +"What makes you think that, my dear?" + +"Think it! I know it. It was not likely that there should be much +talk about Sir Francis either in the cathedral or at the breakfast; +but one can tell from other things whether a subject has been +avoided. These are plain when little things would have been said but +are not said. There has been no allusion made to their reason for +leaving the house." + +"I don't see that it signifies much, my dear." + +"Oh; doesn't it? What would you have thought if after I had become +engaged to you you had found that a month or two before I had been +engaged to another man?" + +"It is more than twelve months, my dear." + +"No, it is not more than twelve months since first they met in Italy. +I know what I am talking about, and you need not contradict me. +You'll find that he'll learn it of a sudden, and then all the fat +will be in the fire. I know what men are." It was thus that the +gentle Mrs. Green expressed herself on the subject to her husband. + +At the Deanery the matter was spoken of in a different tone but still +with similar feelings. "I don't think Cecilia has ever yet said a +word to that poor man as to her engagement with Francis. I cannot +tell what has put it into my mind, but I think that it is so." It was +thus that Mrs. Hippesley spoke to the Dean. + +"Your brother behaved very badly;--very badly," said the Dean. + +"That has got nothing to do with it. Mr. Western won't care a straw +whether Francis behaved well or ill. And for the matter of that I +don't think that as yet we quite know the truth of it. Nor would he +care if his wife had behaved ill to the other man, so long as she +behaved well to him. But if he has heard nothing of it and now finds +it out, he's not the man I take him to be if he don't let her hear of +it." + +"It's nothing to us," said the Dean. + +"Oh, no; it's nothing to us. But you'll see that what I say comes +true." + +In this way all the world of Cecilia's friends were talking on the +matter which she had mentioned to no one. She still hoped that her +husband might have heard the story, and that he kept it buried in his +bosom. But it never occurred to her that it would become matter of +discussion among her friends at Exeter. + +There was one other person who also discussed it very much at his +ease. Sir Francis Geraldine among his friends in London had been +congratulated on his safe but miraculous escape. With a certain +number of men he had been wont to discuss the chances of matrimony. +Should he die, without having an heir, his title and property would +go to his cousin, Captain Geraldine, who was a man some fifteen years +younger than himself and already in possession of a large fortune. +There were many people in the world whom Sir Francis hated, but none +whom he hated so cordially as his cousin. Three or four years since +he had been ill, nearly to dying, and had declared that he never +would have recovered but for the necessity that he was under to keep +his cousin out of the baronetage. It had therefore become imperative +on him to marry in order that there might be an heir to the property. +And though he had for a few weeks been perfectly contented with his +Cecilia, there could be no doubt that he had experienced keenly the +sense of relief when she had told him that the engagement must be at +an end. Another marriage must be arranged, but there would be time +for that; and he would take care, that on this occasion he would not +put himself into the hands of one who was _exigeante_ and had a will +of her own. "By Gad," he said to his particular friend, Dick Ross, "I +would almost sooner that my cousin Walter had the property than put +it and myself into the hands of such a virago." + +"You'll only get another," said Dick, "that will not let on, but will +turn out to be twice as bad in the washing." + +"That I hardly think probable. There are many things which go to the +choice of a wife, and the worst of it is that they are not compatible +one with another. A woman should be handsome; but then she is proud. +A woman should have a certain air of dignity; but when she has got +it she knows that herself, and shows it off in the wrong place. She +should be young; but if she is too young she is silly: wait a little +and she becomes strong-minded and headstrong. If she don't read +anything she becomes an ass and a bore; but if she do she despises a +man because he is not always doing the same thing. If she is a nobody +the world thinks nothing of her. If she come of high birth she thinks +a deal too much of herself. It is difficult." + +"I'd have nothing to do with any of them," said Dick Ross. + +"And let that puppy come in! He wrote to me to congratulate me on my +marriage, just when he knew it was off." + +"I'll tell you what I'd do," said Dick. "I'd marry some milk-maid and +keep her down on the property. I'd see that it was all done legally, +and I'd take the kid away when he was three or four years old." + +"Everybody would talk about it." + +"Let 'em talk," said Dick heroically. "They couldn't talk you out +of your ease or your pleasure or your money. I never could find out +the harm of people talking about you. They might say whatever they +pleased of me for five hundred a year." + +Then there came the news that Cecilia Holt was going to marry Mr. +Western. The tidings reached Sir Francis while the lovers were still +at Rome. Of Mr. Western Sir Francis knew something. In the first +place his cousin Walter Geraldine had taken away the girl to whom +Mr. Western had in the first instance been engaged. And then they +were in some degree neighbours, each possessing a small property in +Berkshire. Sir Francis had bought his now some years since for racing +purposes. It was adjacent to Ascot, and had been let or used by +himself during the racing week, as he had or had not been short of +money. Mr. Western's small property had come to him from his uncle. +But he had held it always in his own hands, and intended now to take +his bride there as soon as their short honeymoon trip should be over. +In this way Sir Francis had come to know something of Cecilia's +husband, and did not especially love him. "That young lady of mine +has picked up old Western on her travels." This Sir Francis said to +his friend Ross up in London. The reader however must remember that +"old Western" was in fact a younger man than Sir Francis himself. + +"I suppose he's welcome to her?" said Ross. + +"I'm not so sure of that. Of course he is welcome in one way. She'll +make him miserable and he'll do as much for her. You may let them +alone for that." + +"Why should you care about it?" + +"Well; I don't know. A fellow has a sort of feeling about a girl when +he has been spooning on her himself. He doesn't want to think that +another fellow is to pick her up immediately." + +"Dog in the manger, you mean." + +"You may call it that if you like. You never cared for any young +woman, I suppose?" + +"Oh, haven't I! Lots of 'em. But if I couldn't get a girl myself I +never cared who had her. What's the good of being selfish?" + +"What's the good of lying?" said Sir Francis, propounding a great +doctrine in sociology. "If I feel cut up what's the use of saying I +don't,--unless I want to deceive the man I'm talking to? If I feel +that I'd like a girl to be punished for her impertinence, what's the +use of my pretending to myself that I don't want it? If I wish a +person to be injured, what's the use of saying I wish them all the +good in the world,--unless there's something to be gained by my +saying it? Now I don't care to tell you lies. I am quite willing that +you should know all the truth about me. Therefore I tell you that I'm +not best pleased that this minx should have already picked up another +man." + +"He has the devil of a temper," said Dick Ross, wishing to make the +matter as pleasant as possible to his friend. + +"So your Miss Holt is married," Ross said to his friend on the day +after the ceremony. + +"Yes; she is married, and her troubles have now to begin. I wonder +whether she has told him the little episode of our loves." + +"You may be sure of that," said Dick. + +"I am not at all so sure of it. She may have told him when they first +became acquainted, but I cannot imagine her telling him afterwards. +He is as proud as she, and is just the man not to like it." + +"It doesn't much signify to you at any rate," said the indifferent +Dick. + +"I'm not so sure of that," said Sir Francis. "I like the truth to be +told. It may become my duty to take care that poor Mr. Western shall +know all about it." + +"What a beast that fellow is for mischief!" said Dick Ross as he +walked home from his club that evening. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +MISS ALTIFIORLA'S ARRIVAL. + + +Yes;--Sir Francis Geraldine was a beast for mischief! Thinking the +matter over, he resolved that Mr. Western should not be left in the +dark as to his wife's episode. And he determined that Mr. Western +would think more of the matter if it were represented to him that +his wife had been jilted, and had been jilted unmistakably before +they two had met each other on the Continent. He was right in this. +According to the usages of the world the lady would have less to say +for herself if that were the case and would have more difficulty in +saying it. Therefore the husband would be the more bound to hear it. +Sir Francis was a beast for mischief, but he knew what he was about. + +But so did not Mrs. Western when she allowed those opportunities +to pass by her which came to her for telling her story before her +marriage. In very truth she had had no reason for concealing it but +that his story had been so nearly the same. On this account she had +put it off, and put it off,--and then the fitting time had passed +by. When she was with him alone after their marriage she could not +do it,--without confessing her fault in that she had not done it +before. She could not bring herself to do so. Standing so high in his +esteem as she did, and conscious that he was thoroughly happy in his +appreciation of her feminine merit, she could not make him miserable +by descending from her pedestal to the telling of a story, which was +disgraceful in that it had not been told before. + +And there was a peculiarity of manner in him of which she became day +by day more conscious. He could be very generous for good conduct +to those dependent on him, but seemed to be one who could with +difficulty forgive an injury. He wished to have everything about him +perfect, and then life should go as soft as a summer's day. He was +almost idolatrous to her in these first days of their marriage, but +then he had found nothing out. Cecilia knowing his character asked +herself after all what there was to be found out. How often that +question must occur to the girl just married. But there was nothing. +He was pleased with her person; pleased with her wit; pleased that +money should have been offered to him, and pleased that for the +present he should have declined it. He liked her dress and her +willingness to change any portion of it at his slightest hint. He +liked her activity and power of walking, and her general adaptability +to himself. He was pleased with everything. But she had the secret at +her heart. + +"I wonder that you should have lived so long, and never have been in +love before," he said to her one day as they were coming home. + +"How do you know?" She blushed as she answered him, but it was a +matter as to which any girl might blush. + +"I am sure you were not. I should have heard it." And yet she was +silent. She felt at the moment that the time had come,--the only +possible time. But she let the moment pass by. Though she was ever +thinking of her secret, and ever wishing that she could tell it, +longing that it had been told, she could not bear that it should be +surprised from her in this way. "I think it nicer as it is," he added +as he left the room. + +Then she got up and stood alone on the floor, thinking of it all. +There she stood for ten minutes thinking of it. She would follow him +and, not throwing herself on her knees--but standing boldly before +him, tell him all. There was no disgrace in it,--to have loved that +other man. Of her own conduct she was confident before all the world. +There had been so little secrecy about it that she almost had a right +to suppose that it had been known to all men. The more she tried +to bring herself to follow him and tell him, the more she assured +herself that there should be no necessity. How ought she to have told +him, and when? At every point of his story should she have made known +to him the same point in hers? "It was exactly the same with me." "I +wouldn't have my young man because he was indifferent." "With yours +there was another lover ready. That has yet to come with me." "You +have come abroad for consolation. So have I." It would have been +impossible;--was impossible. "I think it nicer as it is," he had +said, and she could not do it. + +There was some security while they were travelling, and she wished +that they might travel for ever. She was happy while with him alone; +and so too was he. But for her secret she was completely happy. +Let him only be kept in the dark and he would be happy always. She +idolised him as her own. She loved him the better for thinking that +"it was nicer as it is;"--or would have done, had it been so. Why +should they go where some sudden tidings might mar his joy;--where +some sudden tidings certainly would do so sooner or later? Still they +went on and on till in May they reached his house in Berkshire,--he +with infinite joy at his heart, and she with the load upon hers. + +Early in May they reached Durton Lodge, in Berkshire, and there they +stayed during the summer. Mr. Western had his house in London, and +there was a question whether they would not go there for the season. +But Cecilia had begged to be taken to her house in the country, and +there she remained. Durton Lodge was little more than a cottage, but +it was very pretty and prettily situated. When the Ascot week came +he offered to take her there, but offered it with a smile which she +understood to mean that his proposal should not be accepted. Indeed +she had no wish for Ascot or for any place in which he or she must +meet their old friends. Might it not be possible if they both could +be happy at Durton that there they might remain with some minimum of +intercourse with the world? Six months had now passed by since they +had become engaged and no good-natured friend had as yet told him the +truth. Might it not be possible that the same silence should be as +yet preserved? If years could be made to run on then he would have +become used to her, and the telling of the secret would not be so +severe. + +But there came to her a great trouble in regard to her letters from +Exeter. Miss Altifiorla would fill hers with long statements about +Sir Francis which had no interest whatsoever, but which required to +be at once destroyed. She soon learnt in her married life that her +husband had no wish to see her letters. She would so willingly have +shown them to him, would have taken such a joy in asking for his +sympathy, such a delight in exposing Miss Altifiorla's peculiar views +of life, that she lost much by her constrained reticence. But this +necessity of destroying papers was very grievous to her. Though she +knew that he would not read the letters without her permission, still +she must destroy them. In every possible way she endeavoured to +silence her correspondent, not answering her at first; and then +giving her such answers as were certainly not affectionate. But in +no way would Miss Altifiorla be "snubbed." Then after a while she +proposed to come and stay a week at Durton Lodge. This was not to +be endured. The very thought of it filled poor Mrs. Western's heart +with despair. And yet she did not like to refuse without telling her +husband. Of Miss Altifiorla she had already made mention, and Mr. +Western had been taught to laugh at the peculiarities of the old +maid. "Pray do not have her," she said to him. "She will make you +very uncomfortable, and my life will be a burden to me." + +"But what can you say to her?" + +"No room," suggested Cecilia. + +"But there are two rooms." + +"I know there are. But is one to be driven by a strict regard for +literal truth to entertain an unwelcome friend? Miss Altifiorla +thought that I ought not to have married you, and as I thought I +ought we had some words about it." + +"Whom did she want you to marry?" asked Mr. Western with a laugh. + +"Nobody. She is averse to marriage altogether." + +"Unless she was the advocate of some other suitor, I do not see that +I need quarrel with her. But she is your friend and not mine, and if +you choose to put her off of course you can do so. I would advise you +to find something more probable than the want of a bedroom in a house +in which one is only occupied." + +There was truth in this. What reason could she find? Knowing her +husband's regard to truth she did not dare to suggest any reason +to her friend more plausible than the want of a room, but still +essentially false. She was driven about thinking that she would get +her husband to take her away from home for awhile--for two or three +days. The letter remained unanswered, when her husband suggested +to her that she had better write. "Could we not go somewhere?" she +replied with a look of trouble on her brow. + +"Run away from home on account of Miss Altifiorla?" said he. She was +beginning to be afraid of him and knew that it was so. She did not +dare to declare to him her thoughts and was afraid at every moment +that he should read them. + +"Then I must just tell her that we can't have her." + +"That will be best,--if you have made up your mind. As far as I am +concerned she is welcome. Any friend of yours would be welcome." + +"Oh, George, she would bore you out of your life!" + +"I am not so easily bored. I am sure that any intimate friend of +yours would have something to say for herself." + +"Oh, plenty." + +"And as for her having been an advocate for single life, she had not +seen me and therefore her reasons could not have been personal. There +are a great many young women, thirty years old and upwards, who take +up the idea. They do not wish to subject themselves,--perhaps because +they have not been asked by the right person." + +"I don't think there have been any persons here. Not that she is bad +looking." + +"Perhaps you think I shall fall in love with her." + +"I'd have her directly. But she is the last person in the world I +should think of." + +"I can get on very well with anyone who has an idea. There is at +any rate something to strike at. The young lady who agrees with +everything and suggests nothing, is to me the most intolerable. At +any rate you had better make up your mind at once or you'll have her +here before you know where you are." + +It was this which did, indeed, happen. On the day after the last +conversation Mrs. Western wrote her letter. In it she expressed her +sorrow that engagements for the present prevented her from having +the power to entertain her friend. No doubt the letter was cold and +unfriendly. As she read it over to herself she declared that she +would have been much hurt to have received such a letter from her +friend. But she declared again that under no circumstances could +she have offered herself as Miss Altifiorla had done. Nevertheless +she felt ashamed of the letter. All of which, however, became quite +unnecessary, when, in the course of the afternoon, Miss Altifiorla +appeared at Durton Lodge. She arrived with a torrent of reasons. She +had come up to London on business which admitted of no excuse. She +was sure that her friend's letter must have gone astray,--that letter +which for the last three days she had been expecting. To return from +London to Exeter without seeing her dear friend would be so unfeeling +and unnatural! She must have come to Durton Lodge or must have +returned to Exeter. In fact, she so put it as to make it appear +impossible that she should not have come. + +"My dear Miss Altifiorla," said Mr. Western, "I am sure that Cecilia +is delighted to see you. And as for me, you are quite welcome." But, +as a fact, there she was. There was no sending her away again;--no +getting her out of the house without a sojourn of some days. Whatever +mischief she might do might be done at once. There could be no doubt +that she would begin to talk of Sir Francis Geraldine and declare the +secret which it was now the one care of Cecilia's mind to keep away +from her husband. It mattered not that her presence there showed her +to be vulgar, impertinent, and obtrusive. There she was, and must be +dealt with as a friend, or as an enemy. Again Cecilia almost made up +her mind as to the better course. Let her go to her husband and tell +him all, and tell him also why it was that she told him now. Let her +endure his anger, and then there would be an end of it. There was +nothing else as to which she had need to dread him. + +But again, when she found herself with him, he was happy, and jocund, +and jested with her about her friend. She could not get him into the +humour in which it was proper that he should be told. She did not +tell him, and went down to dinner with the terrible load about her +heart. Three or four times during the evening the conversation was +on the point of turning to matters in which the name of Sir Francis +Geraldine would surely be mentioned. With infinite care, but without +showing her care, she contrived to master the subject, and to force +her friend and her husband to talk of other things. But the struggle +was very great, and she was aware that it could not be repeated. The +reader will remember, perhaps, the stern thoughts which Miss Holt +had entertained as to her friend when her friend had thought proper +to give her some idea of what her duty ought to be in regard to her +present husband. She remembered well that Miss Altifiorla had written +to her, asking whether Mr. Western had forgiven "that episode." +And her mother, too, had in writing dropped some word,--some word +intended to be only half intelligible as to the question which Miss +Altifiorla had asked after the wedding breakfast. She knew well what +had been in the woman's mind, and knew also what had been in her own! +She remembered how proudly she had disdained the advice of this woman +when it had been given to her. And yet now she must go to her and ask +for mercy. She saw no other way out of her immediate trouble. She +did not believe but that her friend would be silent when told to be +silent; but yet how painfully disgraceful to her, the bride, would be +the telling. + +She went up to Miss Altifiorla's room after she had gone for the +night, and found her friend getting into bed, happy with the +assistance of a strange maid. "Oh, my dear," said Miss Altifiorla, +"my hair is not half done yet; are you in a hurry for Mary?" + +"I will go to my own room," said Mrs. Western, "and when Mary will +tell me that you are ready I will come to you. There is something +I have to tell you." She had not been five minutes in her own room +before Mary summoned her. The "something to be told" took immediate +hold of Miss Altifiorla's imagination, and induced her to be ready +for bed with her hair, we may suppose, "half done." + +"Francesca," said Mrs. Western, as soon as she entered the room, "I +have a favour to ask you." + +"A favour?" + +"Yes, a favour." She had come prepared with her request down to the +very words in which it should be uttered. "I do not wish you, while +you remain here, to make any allusion to Sir Francis Geraldine." +Miss Altifiorla almost whistled as she heard the words spoken. "You +understand me, do you not? I do not wish any word to be said which +may by chance lead to the mention of Sir Francis Geraldine's name. If +you will understand that, you will be able to comply with my wishes." +Her request she made almost in the stern words of an absolute order. +There was nothing humble in her demeanour, nothing which seemed to +tell of a suppliant. And having given her command she remained quiet, +waiting for an answer. + +"Then this was the reason why you didn't answer me. You did not want +to see me, and therefore remained silent." + +"I did not want to see you. But it was not on that account that I +remained silent. I should have written to you. Indeed I have written +to you, and the letter would have gone to-day. I wrote to you putting +you off. But as you are here I have to tell you my wishes. I am sure +that you will do as I would have you." + +"I have to think of my duty," said Miss Altifiorla. + +Then there came a black frown on Mrs. Western's brow. Duty! What duty +could she have in such a matter, except to her? She suspected the +woman of a desire to make mischief. She felt confident that the woman +would do so unless repressed by the extraction from her of a promise +to the contrary. She did believe that the woman would keep her +word,--that she would feel herself bound to preserve herself from the +accusation of direct falsehood; but from her good feeling, from her +kindness, from her affection, from that feminine bond which ought to +have made her silent, she expected nothing. "Your duty, Francesca, +in this matter is to me," said Mrs. Western, assuming a wonderful +severity of manner. "You have known me many years and are bound to me +by many ties. I tell you what my wishes are. I cannot quite explain +my reasons, but I do not doubt that you will guess them." + +"You have kept the secret?" said Miss Altifiorla with a devilish +mixture of malice, fun, and cunning. + +"It does not matter what I have done. There are reasons, which made +me wish to avoid your immediate coming. At the present moment it +would interfere gravely with his happiness and with mine were he +to learn the circumstances of Sir Francis Geraldine's courtship. +Of course it is painful to me to have to say this to you. It is so +painful that to avoid it I have absolutely written to you telling you +not to come. This I have done not to avoid your coming, which would +otherwise have been a pleasure to me, but to save myself from this +great pain. Now you know it all, and know also what it is that I +expect from you." + +Miss Altifiorla listened to this in silence. She was seated in +an easy bedroom chair, clothed from head to foot in a pale pink +dressing-gown, from which the colour was nearly washed out; and her +hair as I have said was "half done." But in her trouble to collect +her thoughts she became quite unaware of all accessories. Her dear +friend Cecilia had put the matter to her so strongly that she did +not quite dare to refuse. But yet what a fund of gratification might +there not be in telling such a story under such circumstances to +the husband! She sat silent for a while meditating on it, till Mrs. +Western roughly forced a reply from her lips. "I desire to have your +promise," said Mrs. Western. + +"Oh, yes, of course." + +"You will carefully avoid all allusion to the subject." + +"Since you wish it, I will do so." + +"That is sufficient. And now good-night." + +"I know that I am doing wrong," said Miss Altifiorla. + +"You would indeed be doing wrong," said Mrs. Western, "if you were +to take upon yourself to destroy my happiness on such a matter after +having been duly warned." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +LADY GRANT. + + +It is literally true that the tongue will itch with a desire to tell +a secret. Miss Altifiorla's tongue did itch. But upon the whole she +endured her suffering, and kept her promise. She did not say a word +in Mr. Western's hearing which led to Sir Francis Geraldine as a +topic of conversation. But in reward for this she exacted from Mrs. +Western an undertaking to keep her at Durton Lodge for a fortnight. +The bargain was not exactly struck in those words, but it was so made +that Mrs. Western understood how great was the price she paid, and +how valuable the article she received in return. "A fortnight!" Mr. +Western said, when his wife told him of the promise she had made. "I +thought that three days would have been too much for you." + +"Three hours are too much,--as interrupting our happiness. But as she +is here, and as we have been very intimate for many years, and as she +herself has named the time, I have not liked to contradict her." + +"So be it. She will interfere much more with you than with me, and I +suppose that the coming will not be frequently repeated." + +Two days after this another guest proposed to visit them. But this +was only for two nights, and her coming had in fact been expected +from a period before the marriage. Lady Grant was Mr. Western's +younger sister, and the person of whom in all the world he seemed to +think the most. Indeed he had assured his wife that next to herself +she was the nearest and the dearest to him. She was a widow, and went +but little into society. According to his account she was clever, +agreeable, and beautiful. She lived altogether in Scotland, where her +time was devoted to her children, and was now coming up to England +chiefly with the purpose of seeing her brother's wife. She was to be +at Durton Lodge now only for a couple of nights, and then to return +and remain with the understood purpose of taking them with her +back to Scotland. Of Lady Grant Cecilia had become much afraid, +as thinking it more than probable that her secret might be known. +But it had seemed that as yet Lady Grant knew nothing of it. She +corresponded frequently with her brother, and, as far as Cecilia +could tell, the subject had not yet been mentioned between them. +Could it be possible that all this time the secret was known to her +husband and to her husband's sister? If so his silence to her was +almost cruel. + +Up to the morning of her coming Miss Altifiorla had certainly kept +her promise. She had kept her promise though there had been twenty +little openings as to which it would have been so easy for her to +lead the way to the matter as to which her tongue longed to be +speaking. When any mention was made of baronets either married +or unmarried, of former lovers, of broken vows, or of second +engagements, Miss Altifiorla would look with a meaning glance at her +hostess. But of these glances Cecilia would apparently take no heed. +She had soon got to know that Miss Altifiorla's promise would be kept +unless she were led by some other person into an indirect breach of +it. Cecilia's life during the period was one of great agony. But +still she endured it without allowing her husband to perceive that it +was so. + +Now, on the coming of Lady Grant, what steps should she take? Should +she ask her friend to be silent also to this second person or should +she presume the promise to be so extended? She could not bring +herself to make a second request. The task of doing so was too +ponderous. Miss Altifiorla's manner of receiving the request made +it such a burden that she could not submit herself to it. The woman +looked at her and spoke to her in a manner which she was obliged +to endure without seeming to endure aught that was unnatural. She +looked back to her own struggles during that evening in the bedroom, +and could see the woman as she sat struggling, in her pale pink +dressing-gown, to escape from the necessity of promising. She could +not have another such scene as that. But she thought that perhaps +with one added word the promise might be made to suffice. + +When they were alone together Miss Altifiorla would constantly refer +to the Geraldine affair. This was to be expected and to be endured. +There would come an end to the fortnight and the woman would be gone. +"Do you think that Lady Grant knows?" she said, in the whisper that +had become usual to her on such occasions. + +"I am sure she knows nothing about it," said Cecilia. + +"How can you be sure? You do not know her and have never seen her. It +will be very odd if she has not heard." + +"At any rate nothing need be said to her in this house. No hint need +be made to her either by you or me." + +"I think she must have heard it. I happen to know that she has a +great correspondence. Laws! when you think of who Sir Francis is and +of the manner in which he lives, it is almost impossible to conceive +that a person should not have heard of it." + +"We need not tell her." + +"You are quite safe with me. I have given you my word, and that ought +to be enough. Nobody could have been more studious to avoid the +matter;--though, indeed, it has sometimes been difficult. And then +there has been my feeling of doubt whether my duty ought not to make +me divulge it." There was something in this which was peculiarly +painful to Cecilia. The duty of this woman to her husband, to him +whom she loved so truly, to him with whom it was in the very core +of her heart to have everything in common! Francesca Altifiorla to +speak of her duty to him! But even this had to be borne. "Indeed, I +feel every day that I am staying here that I am sacrificing duty to +friendship." Oh, into what trouble had she fallen without any sin of +her own,--as she told herself;--without, at least, any great sin! +When was the moment at which she ought to have told the story? She +thought that she could remember the exact moment; when he had come +back to her for her answer at the end of that week. And then she had +not told him, simply from her dislike to repeat back to him the story +which she had heard from himself! + +Lady Grant came, and nothing could be sweeter or more gracious than +the meeting. Miss Altifiorla was not there, and the two ladies, in +the presence of the husband and brother, received each other with +that quick intimacy and immediate loving friendship which it is given +only to women to entertain. Lady Grant was ten years the senior and +a widow, and had that air of living through the evening of her life +instead of still enjoying the morning, which is peculiar to widows +who have loved their husbands. She was very lovely, even in her +mitigated widow's weeds, with a tall figure, and pale oval face, +rather thin, but not meagre or attenuated. And Cecilia thought that +she saw in her a determination to love her,--and she on her side at +once determined that she would return Lady Grant's affection. But +not for that reason was her secret to be known. She looked on Lady +Grant as one whom she would so willingly have made her friend in all +things, but still as one whom, as to that single matter, she could +not but regard as her enemy. + +They sat together for a couple of hours before dinner, and then at +night there was another sitting from which Miss Altifiorla was again +banished. And there were some joking questions asked and answers +given as to Miss Altifiorla's presence. There was a something in the +manner and gait of Lady Grant which made Cecilia almost ashamed of +her Exeter friend. It was not that Miss Altifiorla was ignorant, or +unladylike, or ill-dressed; but that she knew her friend too well. +Miss Altifiorla was little and mean, whereas Cecilia was ready to +accept her sister-in-law as great and noble. Miss Altifiorla was not +therefore spoken of in the highest terms, and the mode of her coming +to Durton Lodge without an invitation was subjected to some little +ridicule. + +But Mrs. Western when she went to her room was comforted at any rate +in thinking that Lady Grant did not know her secret. How poor must +have been her state of comfort may be judged from the fact that this +could add to it. On the following morning they met at breakfast, and +all went well. But Lady Grant could not but notice that the young +lady from Devonshire seemed to exercise an authority incommensurate +with the tone in which she had been described. The day passed by +happily enough, and Cecilia was strong in hope that Lady Grant might +take her departure without a reference to her one subject of sorrow. + +That night, however, her comfort, such as it was, was brought to an +end. As they were sitting together in Lady Grant's bedroom Cecilia's +ears were suddenly wounded by the mention of the name of Sir Francis +Geraldine. In her immediate agony she could hardly tell how it +occurred, but she was rapidly asked a question as to her former +engagement. In the asking of it there was nothing rough, nothing +unkind, nothing intended to wound, nothing to show a feeling that it +should not be so;--but the question had been asked. There was the +fact that Lady Grant knew the whole story. + +But there was the fact also that her husband did not know it, or else +that other fact which she would have given the world to know to be a +fact,--that he knew it, and had willingly held his peace respecting +it, even to his sister. If that could be so, then she could be happy; +if that could be so,--if she could know that it was so, then could +she afford to despise Miss Altifiorla and her tyranny. But though +the word had been not yet a moment uttered, she could not at first +remember how it had been said. There was simply the knowledge that +the name of Sir Francis Geraldine had been used, and that it had been +declared that she had been engaged to him. Up to this moment she had +been very brave, and very powerful, too, over herself. Up to this she +had never betrayed herself. But now her courage gave way, the colour +came to her cheeks and forehead and neck, and then passed rapidly +away,--and she betrayed herself. "Does not he know it?" asked Lady +Grant. As she said the words she put out her hand and pressed +Cecilia's in her own; and the tone of her voice was loving, and +friendly, and sisterly. Though there was reproach in it, it was not +half so bitter as that which Cecilia was constantly addressing to +herself. The reproach was in her ears and not in Lady Grant's voice. +But the words were repeated before Cecilia could answer them. "Does +not he know it?" + +All her hope was thus abolished. Almost from the moment of Lady +Grant's coming into the house she had taught herself to think that he +must know it. It was impossible that the two should be ignorant, and +impossible also as she thought that the sister should know it and +that he should not. But all that was now at an end. It was necessary +that she should answer her sister's question, and yet so difficult +to find words in which to do so. She attempted to speak but the word +would not come. Even the one word, "No," would not form itself on her +lips. She fell upon her knees and, burying her face in Lady Grant's +lap, thus told her secret. + +"He has never heard of it?" again asked Lady Grant. "Oh, my dear. +That should not have been so;--must not be so." + +"If I could tell you! If I could tell you!" + +"Tell me what? I am sure there is nothing for you to tell which you +need blush to speak." + +"No, no. Nothing, nothing." + +"Then why should he not know? Why should he not have known? Cecilia, +you will tell him to-night before he goes to his rest?" + +"No,--no. Not to-night. It is impossible. I must wait till that woman +has gone." + +"Miss Altifiorla knows it?" + +"Oh, yes!" + +"She knows, too, that he does not know it?" This question Cecilia +answered only by some sign. "I fancied that it might be so. I thought +that there was something between you which had been kept from him. +Why, why have you been,--shall I say so foolish?" + +"Yes. Yes. Yes; foolish;--oh, yes! But it has been only that. There +is nothing, nothing that is not known to all the world. The marvel is +that he should not have known it. It was in all the newspapers. But +he never thinks of trifles such as that." + +"But why did you keep it from him?" + +"Shall I tell you? You know the story of his own engagement." + +"To Miss Tremenhere? Oh, yes, I know the story." + +"And how badly she behaved to him, receiving the attention of another +man, absolutely while she was engaged to him." + +"She was very pretty;--but a flighty, inconstant little girl. I felt +that George had had a great escape." + +"But such was the story. Well;--he told it me. He told it before he +had thought of me. We were together and had become intimate; and out +of the full heart the mouth speaks." + +"I can understand that he should have told it you." + +"He did not think of loving me then. Well;--he told me his story, but +I kept mine to myself." + +"That was natural,--then." + +"But, when he came to me with the other story and asked me to love +him, was I to give him back his own tale and tell him the same thing +of myself? I too have had a lover, and I have--jilted him, if you +please to call it so. Was I to tell him that?" + +"It would hardly have been true, I think." + +"It would have been true,--true to the letter," said Cecilia, +determined that Sir Francis Geraldine's lie should not prevail at +this moment. "I had done to Sir Francis just what the girl had done +to your brother. I was guided by other motives and had, I think, +behaved properly. Was I to tell it to him then?" + +"Why not?" + +"His own story, back again? I could not do it, and then, after that, +from time to time the occasions have gone by. Words have been said by +him which have made it impossible. Twenty times I have determined to +do it, and twenty times the opportunity has been lost. I was obliged +to tell this woman not to mention it in his presence." + +"He must know it." + +"I wish he did." + +"He is a man who will not bear to be kept in the dark on such a +question." + +"I know it. I have read his character and I know it." + +"You cannot know him as I do," said Lady Grant. "Though you are his +wife you have not been so long enough to know him; how true he is, +how affectionate, how honest; but yet how jealous! Were I to say that +he is unforgiving I should belie him. Without many thoughts he could +forgive the man who had robbed him of his fortune, or his health. +But it is hard for him to forgive that which he considers to be an +offence against his self-love." + +"I know it all." + +"The longer he is kept in the dark the deeper will be the wound. Of +such a man it is impossible to say what he suspects. He will not +think that you have loved him the less or that you are less true to +him; but there will be something that will rankle, and which he will +not endeavour to define. He is the noblest man on earth, and the most +generous--till he be offended. But then he is the most bitter." + +"You describe his character just as I have read it." + +"If it be so you must be careful that he learn this from yourself, +and not from others. If it come from you he will be angry, that it +has come so late. But his anger will pass by and he will forgive you. +But if he hears it from the world at large, if it be told of you, +and not by you, then I can understand, that his wrath should be very +great." + +"Why has he not heard it already?" asked Mrs. Western after a pause. +"Why has he not been like all the world who have read it in the +newspapers? It was talked of so much, that it was hardly necessary +that I should tell it myself." + +"You yourself have said that he does not think of trifles. Paragraphs +about the loves and marriages of other people he would never read. +You may be sure at any rate of this,--that your engagement with Sir +Francis Geraldine he has never read." + +"I have sometimes hoped," said Mrs. Western, "that he knew it all." +Lady Grant shook her head. "I have sometimes thought that he knew +it all, and regarded it as a matter on which nothing need be said +between us. Should I have been angry with him had he not told me of +Miss Tremenhere?" + +"Do you measure the one thing by the other," said Lady Grant; "a +man's desires by a woman's, a man's sense of honour by what a woman +is supposed to feel? Though a man keep such secrets deep in his bosom +through long years of married life, the woman is not supposed to be +injured. She may know, or may not know, and may hear the tale at +any period of her married life, and no harm will follow. But a man +expects to see every thought in the breast of the woman to whose love +be trusts, as though it were all written there for him in the clear +light, but written in letters which no one else shall read." + +"I have nothing that he may not read," said Mrs. Western. + +"But there is something that he has not read, something that he has +not been invited to read. Let it not remain so. Tell it to him all +even though you may have to support his anger, and for a time to pine +in the shadow of his displeasure." + +Mrs. Western as she went away to her own room felt some relief at any +rate in the conviction that with Lady Grant her secret would be safe. +Strong as was the bond which bound her to her brother, there would be +on her tongue no itching desire to tell the secret simply because it +was there to be told. She had not threatened, or spoken of her duty, +or boasted of her friendship, but had simply given her advice in +the strongest language which it was within her power to use. On the +next morning she took her leave, and started on her journey without +showing even by a glance that she was possessed of any secret. + +"Does she know?" asked Miss Altifiorla as soon as the two were in the +drawing-room together, using a kind of whisper which had now become +habitual to her. + +It may almost be said that Mrs. Western had come to hate her friend. +She looked forward to the time of her going as a liberation from +misery. Miss Altifiorla's intrusion at Durton Lodge was altogether +unpalatable to her. She certainly no longer loved her friend, and +knew well that her friend knew that it was so. But still she could +not risk the open enmity of one who knew her secret. And she was +bound to answer the question that was asked her. "Yes, she does know +it." + +"And what does she say?" + +"It matters not what she says. My request to you is that you should +not speak of it." + +"But to yourself!" + +"No, not to myself or to any other person here." Then she was silent; +and Miss Altifiorla, pursing up her lips, bethought herself whether +the demands made upon her friendship were not too heavy. But there +still remained five days of the visit. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +MISS ALTIFIORLA'S DEPARTURE. + + +The fortnight was nearly gone, and Miss Altifiorla was to start early +on the following morning. Cecilia had resolved that she would tell +her story to her husband as soon as they were alone together, and +make a clean breast. She would tell him everything down as far as she +could, to the little feelings which had prevented her from speaking +before, to Miss Altifiorla's abominable interference, and to Lady +Grant's kind advice. She would do this as soon as Miss Altifiorla was +out of the house. But she could not quite bring herself to determine +on the words she would use. She was resolved, however, that in +owning her fault she would endeavour to disarm his wrath by special +tenderness. If he were tender;--oh, yes, then she would be tender +in return. If he took it kindly then she would worship him. All the +agony she endured should be explained to him. Of her own folly, she +would speak very severely,--if he treated it lightly. But she would +do nothing to seem to deprecate his wrath. As to all this she was +resolved. But she had not yet settled on the words with which she +would commence her narrative. + +The last day wore itself away very tediously. Miss Altifiorla was in +her manner more objectionable than ever. Mr. Western had evidently +disliked her though he had hardly said so. During the days he had +left the two women much together, and had remained in his study or +had wandered forth alone. In this way he had increased his wife's +feeling of anger against her visitor, and had made her look forward +to her departure with increasing impatience. But an event happened +which had at once disturbed all her plans. She was sitting in the +drawing-room with Miss Altifiorla at about five in the evening, +discussing in a most disagreeable manner the secrecy of her first +engagement. That is to say, Miss Altifiorla was persisting in the +discussion, whereas Mrs. Western was positively refusing to make it +a subject of conversation. "I think you are demanding too much from +me," said Miss Altifiorla. "I have given way, I am afraid wrongly as +to your husband. But I should not do my duty by you were I not to +insist on giving you my advice with my last breath. Let me tell it. I +shall know how to break the subject to him in a becoming manner." At +this moment the door was opened and the servant announced Sir Francis +Geraldine. + +The disturbance of the two women was complete. Had the dead ancestor +of either of them been ushered in they could not have received him +with more trepidation. Miss Altifiorla rose with a look of awe, Mrs. +Western with a feeling of anger that was almost dominated by fear. +But neither of them for a moment spoke a word, nor gave any sign of +making welcome the new guest. "As I am living so close to you," said +the baronet, putting on that smile which Mrs. Western remembered so +well, "I thought that I was in honour bound to come and renew our +acquaintance." + +Mrs. Western was utterly unable to speak. "I don't think that we knew +that you were living in the neighbourhood," said Miss Altifiorla. + +"Oh, yes; I have the prettiest, funniest, smallest little cottage in +the world just about two miles off. The Criterion it is called." + +"What a very odd name!" said Miss Altifiorla. + +"Yes, it is rather odd. I won the race once and bought the place with +the money. The horse was called Scratch'em, and I couldn't call my +house Scratch'em. I have built a second cottage, so that it is not so +very small, and as it is only two miles off I hope that you and Mrs. +Western will come and see it." + +This was addressed exclusively to Cecilia, and made an answer of some +kind absolutely necessary. "I fear that we are going to Scotland +very shortly," she said; "and my husband is not much in the habit of +visiting." + +This was uncivil enough, but Sir Francis did not take it amiss. He +sat there for twenty minutes, and even made allusion to their former +intimacy at Exeter. + +"I am quite well aware how happily all that has ended," he said;--"at +any rate on your side of the question. You have done very well and +very wisely. And I,"--he laughed as he said this,--"have succeeded in +getting over it better than might have been expected. At any rate I +hope that there will be no ill-will. I shall do myself the honour of +asking you and Mr. Western to come and dine with me at the Criterion. +It is the little place that Lord Tomahawk had last year." Then he +departed without another word from Cecilia Western. + +"Now he must be told," whispered Miss Altifiorla the moment the door +was closed. "My dear, if you will think of it all round you will +perceive that this can be done by no one so well as by myself. I will +go to Mr. Western the moment he comes in, and get through it all in +half an hour." + +"You will do nothing of the kind," said Mrs. Western. + +"Let me pray you. Let me implore you. Let me beseech you." + +"You will do nothing of the kind. I will admit of no interference in +the matter." + +"Interference! You cannot call it interference." + +"I will not have you to speak to my husband on the subject." + +"But what will you do?" + +"Whatever I do shall be done by myself alone." + +"But you must tell him instantly. You cannot allow this man to come +and call and yet say nothing about it. And he would not have called +without some previous acquaintance. This you will have to describe, +and if you say that you merely knew him at Exeter, there will be +in that case an additional fib." The use of such words applied to +herself by this woman was intolerable. But she could only answer them +by an involuntary frown upon her brow. "And then," continued Miss +Altifiorla, "of course he will refer to me. He will conclude that as +you knew Sir Francis at Exeter I must have known him. I cannot tell a +fib." + +She could not tell a fib! And that was uttered in such a way as to +declare that Mrs. Western had been fibbing. I cannot tell a fib! "You +will leave me at any rate to mind my own business," said Cecilia in +an indignant tone as she left the room. + +But Mr. Western was at the hall door, and the coming of Sir Francis +had to be explained at once. That could not be left to be told when +Miss Altifiorla should have gone,--not even though she were going +to-morrow. "Sir Francis Geraldine has been here," she said almost +before he had entered the room. She was immediately aware that +she had been too sudden, and had given by her voice too great an +importance to her idea of the visit. + +But he was not surprised at that and did not notice it. "Sir Francis +Geraldine! A man whom I particularly do not wish to know! And what +has brought him here?" + +"He came to call. He is a Devonshire man, and he knew us at Exeter." + +"He is the Dean's brother-in-law. I remember. And when he came what +did he say? Unless you and he were very intimate I think he might as +well have remained away. There are some stories here not altogether +to his credit. I do not know much about his business, but he is not a +delectable acquaintance." + +"We were intimate," said Cecilia. "Maude Hippesley, his niece, was my +dearest friend." The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she +was aware that she had fibbed. Miss Altifiorla was justified. Why had +she not stopped at the assurance of her intimacy with Sir Francis, +and leave unexplained the nature of it? Every step which she took +made further steps terribly difficult! + +After dinner, Mr. Western, as a matter of course, brought up +the subject of Sir Francis Geraldine. "Did you know him, Miss +Altifiorla?" + +"Oh, yes!" said that lady, looking at Cecilia with peculiar eyes. +Only that Mr. Western was a man and not a woman, and among men the +least suspicious till his suspicion was aroused, he would have +discovered at once from Miss Altifiorla's manner that there was a +secret. + +"He seems to have lived in very good clerical society down in +Exeter,--a very different class from those with whom he has been +intimate here." + +"Of course he was staying at the Deanery," said Cecilia. + +"And the Dean, I know, is a very pearl of Church propriety. It is odd +what different colours men show at different places. Down here, where +he is well known, a great many even of the racing men fight shy of +him. But I beg your pardon if he be a particular friend of yours, +Miss Altifiorla." + +"Oh dear, no, not of mine at all. I should never have known him to +speak to but for Cecilia." Her words no doubt were true; but again +she looked as though endeavouring to tell all she could without +breaking her promise. + +"He is one of our Devonshire baronets," said Cecilia, "and of course +we like to stand by our own. At any rate he is going to ask us to +dinner." + +"We cannot dine with him." + +"That's as you please. I don't want to dine with him." + +"I look upon it as very impertinent. He knows that I should not dine +with him. There has never been any actual quarrel, but there has been +no acquaintance." + +"The acquaintance has been on my part," said Cecilia, who felt +that at every word she uttered she made the case worse for herself +hereafter. + +"When a woman marries, she has to put up with her husband's friends," +said Mr. Western gravely. + +"He is nothing on earth to me. I never wish to see him again as long +as I live." + +"It is unfortunate that he should have turned out to be so near a +neighbour," said Miss Altifiorla. Then for the moment Sir Francis +Geraldine was allowed to be forgotten. + +"I did not like to say it before her," he said afterwards in their +own room;--and now Cecilia was able to observe that his manner was +altogether altered,--"but to tell the truth that man behaved very +badly to me myself. I know nothing about racing, but my cousin, poor +Jack Western, did. When he died, there was some money due to him by +Sir Francis, and I, as his executor, applied for it. Sir Francis +answered that debts won by dead men were not payable. But Jack had +been alive when he won this, and it should have been paid before. I +know nothing about debts of honour as they are called, but I found +out that the money should have been paid." + +"What was the end of it?" asked Cecilia. + +"I said no more about it. The money would have come into my pocket +and I could afford to lose it. But Sir Francis must know what I think +of the transaction, and, knowing it, ought not to talk of asking me +to dinner." + +"But that was swindling." + +"For the matter of that it's all swindling as far as I can see. One +strives to get the money out of another man's pocket by some juggling +arrangement. For myself I cannot understand how a gentleman can +condescend to wish to gain another man's money. But I leave that all +alone. It is so; and when I meet a man who is on the turf as they +call it, I keep my own feelings to myself. He has his own laws of +conduct and I have mine. But here is a man who does not obey his own +laws; and puts money in his pocket by breaking them. He can do as +he pleases. It is nothing to me. But he ought not to come and call +upon my wife." In this way he talked himself into a passion; but the +passion was now against Sir Francis Geraldine and not against his +wife. + +On the next morning Miss Altifiorla was despatched by an early train +so that she might be able to get down to Exeter, _via_ London, early +in the day. It behoved her to go to London on the route. She had +things to buy and people to see, and to London she went. "Good-bye, +my dear," she said, seeming to include the husband as well as the +wife in the address. "I have spent a most pleasant fortnight, and +have been most delighted to become acquainted with your husband. You +are Cecilia Holt no longer. But it would have been sad indeed not +to know him who has made you Cecilia Western." Then she put out her +hand, and getting hold of that of the gentleman squeezed it with the +warmest affection. But her farewell address made to Mrs. Western +in her own room was quite different in its tone. "Now I am going, +Cecilia," she said, "and am leaving you in the midst of terrible +dangers." + +"I hope not," said Cecilia. + +"But I am. They would have been over now and passed if you would have +allowed me to obey my reason, and to tell him the whole story of your +former love." + +"Why you?" + +"Because I am your most intimate friend. And I think I should have +told it in such a manner as to disarm his wrath." + +"It is out of the question. I will tell him." + +"Do so. Do so. But I doubt your courage. Do so this very morning. And +remember that at any rate Francesca Altifiorla has been true to her +promise." + +That such a promise should have been needed and should have been +boasted of with such violent vulgarity was almost more than Mrs. +Western could stand. She came down-stairs and then underwent the +additional purgatory of listening to the silver-tongued farewell. +That she, she with her high ideas of a woman's duty and a woman's +dignity, should have put herself into such a condition was a marvel +to herself. Had some one a year since told her that she should become +thus afraid of a fellow-creature and of one that she loved best in +all the world, she would have repelled him who had told her with +disdain. But so it was. How was she to tell her husband that she had +been engaged to one whom he had described to her as a gambler and a +swindler? + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +SIR FRANCIS TRAVELS WITH MISS ALTIFIORLA. + + +Miss Altifiorla was at the station of course before her time. It is +the privilege of unmarried ladies when they travel alone to spend +a good deal of time at stations. But as she walked up and down the +platform she had an opportunity for settling her thoughts. She was +angry with three persons--with Mrs. Western, Mr. Western, and with +herself. She was very angry with Cecilia. Had Cecilia trusted to her +properly she could have sympathised with her thoroughly in all her +troubles. She was not angry with her friend in that her friend was +afraid of her husband. Would she have reposed herself and her fears +on her friend's bosom it might have been very well. But it was +because her friend had not been afraid of her that she was wrath. +Mrs. Western had misbehaved egregiously, and had come to her in +her trouble solely because it was necessary. So far she had done +naturally. But though she had come, she had not come in any of the +spirit of humility. She had been bold as brass to her in the midst +of her cowardice towards her husband,--imperious to herself and +unbending. She had declined her advice with scorn. And yet one word +spoken by herself would have been destructive. Seeing that she had +been so treated had she not been wrong to abstain from the word? + +Her anger against Mr. Western was less hot in its nature but was +still constant. He had not liked her, and though he had been formally +civil, his dislike had been apparent. He was a man proud of himself, +who ought to be punished for his pride. It was quite proper that he +should learn that his wife had been engaged to the man whom he had +so violently despised. It would be no more than a fitting reverse of +fortune. Mr. Western was, she thought, no better than other men, and +ought to be made so to understand. She had not quite arranged in her +mind what she could now do in the matter, but for "dear Cecilia's" +sake she was sure that something must be done. + +And she was angry with herself at allowing herself to be turned out +of the house before the crisis had come. She felt that she ought to +have been present at the crisis, and that by the exercise of her own +powers she might have hurried on the crisis. In this respect she was +by no means satisfied with herself. + +She was walking up and down the platform of the little country +station thinking of all this when on a sudden she saw Sir Francis +Geraldine get out of a brougham. It cannot be explained why her heart +throbbed when she saw Sir Francis get out of his brougham. It was not +that she thought that she could ask his advice on the matters which +filled her mind, but there probably did come to her vague ideas +of the possibility of some joint action. At any rate she received +him when he came upon the platform with her blandest smile, and +immediately entered into conversation with him respecting the +household of the Westerns. What a stiff man he was, so learned, so +proper, and so distant! It was impossible to get on with him. No +doubt he was very good and all that. But what was their poor dear +Cecilia to do with a man so silent, and one who hated all amusements? +Before the train came up she and Sir Francis were quite on good terms +together; and as they were both going to London they got into the +same carriage. + +"Of course he's a prig," said Sir Francis, as they seated themselves +opposite to one another. "But then his wife is a prig too, and I do +not see why they should not suit each other." + +"You did not use to think her a prig, Sir Francis." + +"No; like other men I made a mistake and was nearly having to pay for +it. But I discovered in time,--luckily for both of us." + +"You know," said Miss Altifiorla, "that Cecilia Holt was my dearest +friend, and I cannot endure to hear her abused." + +"Abused! You do not think I wish to abuse her. I am awfully fond of +her still. But I do not see why she and Western should not get on +very well together. I suppose they've no secrets from each other," he +added after a pause. Upon this Miss Altifiorla remained silent. "They +tell each other everything I should think." Still Miss Altifiorla +said nothing. "I should imagine that she would tell him everything." + +"Upon my word I can't say." + +"I suppose she does. About her former engagement, for instance. He +knows the whole story, eh?" + +"I declare you put it to me in such a way that one doesn't know how +to answer you." + +"Different people have such different opinions about these kind of +things. Some people think that because a girl has been engaged to +a man she never ought to speak to him again when the engagement is +broken. For my part I do not see why they should not be as intimate +as any other people. She looked at me the other day as though she +thought that I ought not to put myself into the same room with her +again. I suppose she did it in obedience to him." + +What was Miss Altifiorla to say in answer to such a question? She did +remember her promise, and her promise was in a way binding upon her. +She wished so to keep it as to be able to boast that she had kept it. +But still she was most anxious to break it in the spirit. She did +understand that she had bound herself not to divulge aught about Mrs. +Western's secret, and that were she to do so now to Sir Francis she +would be untrue to her friend. But the provocation was strong; and +she felt that Sir Francis was a man with whom it would be pleasant to +form an alliance. + +"You must know," said Sir Francis. + +"I don't see that I need know at all. Of course Cecilia does tell me +everything; but I do not see that for that reason I am bound to tell +anyone else." + +"Then you do know." + +"Know what?" + +"Has she told him that she was engaged to me? Or does he not know it +without her telling him?" By this time they had become very intimate, +and were whispering backwards and forwards with each other at their +end of the carriage. All this was very pleasant to Miss Altifiorla. +She felt that she was becoming the recipient of an amount of +confidential friendship which had altogether been refused to her +during the last two weeks. Sir Francis was a baronet, and a man of +fashion, and a gentleman very well thought of in Devonshire, let +Mr. Western say what he might about his conduct. Mr. Western was +evidently a stiff stern man who did not like the amusements of other +gentlemen. Miss Altifiorla felt that she liked being the friend of a +man of fashion, and she despised Mr. Western. She threw herself back +on the seat and closed her eyes and laughed. But he pressed her with +the same question in another form. "Does he know that she was engaged +to me?" + +"If you will ask me, I do not think that he does." + +"You really mean to say that he had never heard of it before his +marriage?" + +"What am I to do when you press me in this way? Remember that I do +not tell you anything of my own knowledge. It is only what I think." + +"You just now said that she told you everything." + +"But perhaps she doesn't know herself." + +"At any rate there is a mystery about it." + +"I think there is, Sir Francis." After that it was not very long +before Miss Altifiorla was induced to talk with great openness of the +whole affair, and before they had reached London she had divulged to +Sir Francis the fact that Mrs. Western had as yet told her husband +nothing of her previous engagement, and lived at the present moment +in awe at the idea of having to do so. "I had no conception that +Cecilia would have been such a coward," she said, as Sir Francis was +putting her into a cab, "but such is the sad fact. She has never +mentioned your name." + +"And was therefore dreadfully frightened when I called." + +"Oh, dreadfully! But I shouldn't wonder if she has not told him all +about it now." + +"Already, you think." He was standing at the door of the cab, +detaining it, and thereby showing in a very pleasant manner the +importance of the interview. + +"Well;--I cannot say. Perhaps not yet. She had certainly not made the +communication when I left this morning, but was only waiting for my +departure to do so. So she said at least. But she is terribly afraid +of him and perhaps has not plucked up her courage. But I must be off +now." + +"When do you leave town?" + +"This afternoon. You are delaying me terribly at this moment. Don't, +Sir Francis!" This she said in a whisper because he had got hold of +her hand through the window, as though to say good-bye to her, and +did not at once let it go. + +"When do you go? I'll see you off by the other train. When do you go, +and from where?" + +"Will you though? That will be very kind. Waterloo;--at 4.30. +Remember the 4.30." + +"Sans adieu!" Then she kissed her hand to him and was driven off. + +This to her was all very pleasant. It gave an instant rose colour +to her life. She had achieved such a character down at Exeter for +maidenly reserve, and had lived so sternly, that it was hardly in her +memory that a man had squeezed her hand before. She did remember one +young clergyman who had sinned in this direction, twelve years since, +but he was now a Bishop. When she heard the other day that he had +been made a Bishop some misgivings as to her great philosophy touched +her mind. Had she done right in repudiating mankind? Would it not +have been better now to have been driving about the streets of the +episcopal city, or perhaps even those of the metropolis, in an +episcopal carriage? But, as she had then said, she had chosen her +line and must now abide by it. But the pressing of her hand by Sir +Francis had opened up new ideas to her. And they were the pleasanter +because a special arrangement had been made for their meeting +once again before they left London. As to one point she was quite +determined. Mrs. Western and her secret must be altogether discarded. +As for her promise she had not really broken it. He had been clever +enough to extract from her all that she knew without, as she thought, +any positive statement on her own part. At any rate he did know the +truth, and no concealment could any longer be of service to Cecilia. +It was evident that the way was open to her now, and that she could +tell all that she knew without any breach of confidence. + +Sir Francis, when he left her, was quite determined to carry his +project through. Cecilia had thrown him over with most abominable +unconcern and self-sufficiency. He had intended to honour her and +she had monstrously dishonoured him. He had endeavoured to escape +this by taking upon himself falsely the fault of having been the +first to break their engagement. But there was a doubt as to this +point, and people said that he had been jilted--much to his disgust. +He was determined to be revenged,--or, as he said to himself, "he had +made up his mind that the broad truth should be known." It certainly +would be the "broad truth" if he could make Mr. Western understand +the relations on which he, Sir Francis, had but a few months before +stood in regard to his wife. "Honesty," he said to himself, "demanded +it." + +Miss Altifiorla, he thought, was by no means an unpleasant young +woman with whom to have an intrigue. She had good looks of her +own, though they were thin and a little pinched. She was in truth +thirty-five years old, but she did not quite look it. She had a +certain brightness of eye when she was awakened to enthusiasm, and +she knew how to make the best of herself. She could whisper and +be--or pretend to be--secret. She had about her, at her command, a +great air of special friendship. She had not practised it much with +men as yet, but there was no reason why she should not do so with +advantage. She felt herself already quite on intimate terms with Sir +Francis; and of Sir Francis it may be said, that he was sufficiently +charmed with Miss Altifiorla to find it expedient to go and see her +off from the Waterloo Station. + +He found Dick Ross at his club and lunched with him. "You're just up +from the Criterion," said Dick. + +"Yes; I went down for the sake of renewing an old acquaintance, and I +renewed it." + +"You've been persecuting that unfortunate young woman." + +"Why a young woman should be thought unfortunate because she +marries such a pink of perfection as Mr. Western, and avoids such a +scapegrace as I am, I cannot conceive." + +"She's unfortunate because you mean to bully her. Why can't you leave +her alone? She has had her chance of war, and you have had yours, and +he has had his. As far as I can see you have had the best of it. She +is married to a stiff prig of a fellow, who no doubt will make her +miserable. Surely that ought to be enough for you." + +"Not quite," said Sir Francis. "There is nothing recommends itself +to my mind so much as even-handed justice. He played me a trick once, +and I'll play him another. She too played me a trick, and now I can +play her one. My good fortune consists in this, that I can kill the +two birds with one stone." + +"You mean to kill them?" + +"Certainly I do. Why on earth should I let them off? He did not let +me off. Nor did she. They think because I carry things in an easy +manner that I take them easily. I suffer as much as they do. But they +shall suffer as well as I." + +"The most pernicious doctrine I ever heard in my life," said Dick +Ross as he filled his mouth with cold chicken pie. + +"When you say pernicious, have you any idea what you mean?" + +"Well, yes; awfully savage, and all that kind of thing. Just utter +cruelty, and a bad spirit." + +"Those are your ideas because you don't take the trouble to return +evil for evil. But then you never take the trouble to return good +for good. In fact, you have no idea of duty, only you don't like to +burden your conscience with doing what seems to be ill-natured. Now, +if a man does me good, I return it,--which I deem to be a great duty, +and if he does me evil, I generally return that sooner or later. +There is some idea of justice in my conduct, but there is none in +yours." + +"Do you mean to punish them both?" + +"Well, yes; as far as it is in my power, both." + +"Don't," said Dick Ross, looking up with something like real sorrow +depicted on his face. But still he called for some greengage tart. + +"I like to get the better of my enemies," said the Baronet. "You +like fruit pie. I doubt if you'd even give up fruit pie to save this +woman." + +"I will," said Dick, pushing the pie away from him. + +"The sacrifice would be all in vain. I must write the letter to-day, +and as it has to be thought about I must begin it at once. Whatever +happens, do not let your good nature quarrel with your appetite." + +"He's a fiend, a perfect fiend," said Dick Ross, as he sate dawdling +over his cheese. "I wouldn't have his ill-nature for all his money." +But he turned that sentiment over in his mind, endeavouring to +ascertain what he would do if the offer of the exchange were made to +him. For Dick was very poor, and at this moment was in great want +of money. Sir Francis went into the smoking-room, and sitting there +alone with a cigar in his mouth, meditated the letter which he would +have to write. The letter should be addressed to Mr. Western, and was +one which could not be written without much forethought. He not only +must tell his story, but must give some reason more or less plausible +for the telling of it. He did not think that he could at once make +his idea of justice plain to Mr. Western. He could not put forth his +case so clearly as to make the husband understand that all was done +in fair honour and honesty. But as he thought of it, he came to the +conclusion that he did not much care what impression he might leave +on the mind of Mr. Western;--and still less what impression he might +leave on hers. He might probably succeed in creating a quarrel, and +he was of opinion that Mr. Western was a man who would not quarrel +lightly, but, when he did, would quarrel very earnestly. Having +thought it all over with great deliberation, he went up-stairs, and +in twenty minutes had his letter written. At a quarter past four he +was at the Waterloo Station to see the departure of Miss Altifiorla. +Even he could perceive that she was somewhat brighter in her attire +than when he had met her early in the morning. He could not say what +had been done, but something had been added to please his eyes. The +gloves were not the same, nor the ribbons; and he thought that he +perceived that even the bonnet had been altered. Her manner too was +changed. There was a careless ease and freedom about her which he +rather liked; and he took it in good part that Miss Altifiorla had +prepared herself for the interview, though he were to be with her but +for a few minutes, and that she should be different from the Miss +Altifiorla as she had come away from the Western breakfast table. +"Now there is one thing I want you to promise me," she said as she +gave him her hand. + +"Anything on earth." + +"Don't let Mr. Western or Cecilia know that you know about that." +He laughed and merely shook his head. "Pray don't. What's the good? +You'll only create a disturbance and misery. Poor dear Cecilia has +been uncommonly silly. But I don't think that she deserves to be +punished quite so severely." + +"I'm afraid I must differ from you there," he said, shaking his head. + +"Is it absolutely necessary?" + +"Absolutely." + +"Poor Cecilia! How can she have been so foolish! He is of such a +singular temperament that I do not know what the effect may be. I +wish you would think better of it, Sir Francis." + +"And leave myself to stand in my present very uncomfortable position! +And that after such treatment as hers. I have thought it all over, +and have found myself bound in honour to inform him. And it is for +the sake of letting you know that I have come here. Perhaps you may +be called upon to say or do something in the matter." + +"I suppose it cannot be helped," said Miss Altifiorla with a sigh. + +"It cannot," he replied. + +"Poor dear Cecilia. She has brought it on her own head. I must get +into my train now, as we are just off. I am so much obliged to you +for coming to see me start." + +"We shall meet each other before long," he said, as she again kissed +her hand and took her departure. Miss Altifiorla could not but think +what a happy chance it was that prevented his marriage with Cecilia +Holt. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +MR. WESTERN HEARS THE STORY. + + +It was the custom for Mr. Western to come down into the library +before breakfast, and there to receive his letters. On the morning +after Miss Altifiorla's departure he got one by which it may be said +that he was indeed astonished. It can seldom be the case that a +man shall receive a letter by which he is so absolutely lifted out +of his own world of ordinary contentment into another absolutely +different. And the world into which he was lifted was one black with +unintelligible storms and clouds. It was as though everything were +suddenly changed for him. The change was of a nature which altogether +unmanned him. Had he been ruined that would have been as nothing in +comparison. The death of no friend,--so he told himself in the first +moment of his misery,--could have so afflicted him. He read the +letter through twice and thrice, and then sat silent with it in his +hand thinking of it. There could be but one relief, but that relief +must surely be forthcoming. The letter could not be true. How to +account for its falsehood, how to explain to himself that such a +letter should have been written to him without any foundation for +it, without any basis on which such a story could be constructed, he +could not imagine to himself. But he resolved not to believe it. He +saw that were he to believe it, and to have believed it wrongly, the +offence given would be ineffable. He should never dare to look his +wife in the face again. It was at any rate infinitely safer for him +to disbelieve it. He sat there mute, immovable, without a change of +countenance, without even a frown on his brow, for a quarter of an +hour; and at the end of that time he got up and shook himself. It was +not true. Whatever might be the explanation, it could not be true. +There was some foul plot against his happiness; but whatever the +nature of the plot might be, he was sure that the story as told to +him in that letter was not true. And yet it was with a very heavy +heart that he rose and walked off to his wife's room. + +The letter ran as follows:-- + + + MY DEAR MR. WESTERN,--I think it is necessary that I + should allude to a former little incident in my past + life,--one that took place in the course of the last year + only,--to account for the visit which I made to your + house the other day, and which was not, I think, very + well taken. I have no reason to doubt but that you are + acquainted with all the circumstances. Indeed I look upon + it as impossible that you should not be so. But, taking + that for granted, I have to explain my own conduct. + + It seems but the other day that Cecilia Holt and I were + engaged to be married. + + +Mr. Western, when he came to this passage, felt for a moment as +though he had received a bullet in his heart. + + + All Exeter knew of the engagement, and all Exeter seemed + to be well pleased. I was staying with my brother-in-law, + the Dean, and had found Miss Holt very intimate at the + Deanery. It is not for me now to explain the way in which + our engagement was broken through, but your wife, I do + not doubt, in telling you of the affair, will have stated + that she did not consider herself to have been ill-used. + I am quite certain that she can never have said so even + to yourself. I do not wish to go into the matter in all + its details, but I am confident that she cannot have + complained of me. + + Under these circumstances, when I found myself living + close to you, and to her also, I thought it better to call + and to offer such courtesies as are generally held to be + pleasant in a neighbourhood. It would, I thought, be much + pleasanter to meet in that frank way than to go on cutting + each other, especially as there was no ground for a + quarrel on either side. I have, however, learned since + that something has been taken amiss. What is it? If it + be that I was before you, that is too late to be mended. + You, at any rate, have won the prize, and ought to be + contented. You also were engaged about the same time, and + my cousin has got your young lady. It is I that am left + out in the cold, and I really do not see that you have any + reason to be angry. I have no wish to force myself upon + you, and if you do not wish to be gracious down at Ascot, + then let there be an end of it. + + Yours truly, + + FRANCIS GERALDINE. + + +He arose and went slowly up-stairs to his wife's bedroom. It was just +the time when she would come down to breakfast, and as his hand was +on the lock of the door she opened it to come out. The moment she saw +him she knew that her secret had been divulged. She knew that he knew +it, and yet he had endeavoured to eradicate all show of anger from +his face, as all reality of it from his heart. He was sure,--was +sure,--that the story was an infamous falsehood! His wife, his chosen +one, his Cecilia to have been engaged, a year ago, to such a one as +Sir Francis Geraldine,--to so base, so mean a creature,--and then to +have married him without telling a word of it all! To have kept him +wilfully, carefully, in the dark, with studied premeditation so as to +be sure of effecting her own marriage before he should learn it, and +that too when he had told her everything as to himself! It certainly +could not be, and was not true! + +She stood still holding the door open when she saw him there with the +letter in his hand. There was an instant certainty that the blow had +come and must be borne even should it kill her. It was as though she +were already crushed by the weight of it. Her own conduct appeared to +her black with all its enormity. Though there had been so little done +by her which was really amiss, yet she felt that she had been guilty +beyond the reach of pardon. Twelve months since she could have +declared that she knew herself so well as to be sure that she could +never tremble before anyone. But all that was changed with her. +Her very nature was changed. She felt as though she were a guilty, +discovered, and disgraced criminal. She stood perfectly still, +looking him in the face, but without a word. + +And he! His perceptions were not quick as hers, and he still was +determined to disbelieve. "Cecilia!" he said, "I have got a letter." +And he passed on into the room. She followed him and stood with her +hand resting on the shoulder of the sofa. "I have got a letter from +Sir Francis Geraldine." + +"What does Sir Francis Geraldine say of me?" she replied. + +Had he been a man possessed of quick wit, he would have perceived +now that the letter was true. There was confession in the very tone +of her voice. But he had come there determined that it was not true, +determined at any rate to act as though it were not true; and it was +necessary that he should go through the game as he had arranged to +play it. "It is a base letter," he said. "A foul, lying letter. But +there is some plot in it of which I know nothing. You can perhaps +explain the plot." + +"Maybe the letter is true," she said standing there, not submissive +before him, but still utterly miserable in her guilt. + +"It is untrue. It cannot possibly be true. It contains a damnable +lie. He says that twelve months since you were engaged to him as his +wife. Why does he lie like that?" She stood before him quite quiet +without the change of a muscle of her face. "Do you understand the +meaning of it all?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"What is the meaning? Speak to me and explain it." + +"I was engaged to marry Sir Francis Geraldine just before I knew you. +It was broken off and then we went upon the Continent. There I met +you. Oh, George, I have loved you so well! I do love you so truly." +As she spoke she endeavoured to take his hand in hers. She made that +one effort to be tender in obedience to her conscience, but as she +made it she knew that it would be in vain. + +He rejected her hand, without violence indeed but still with an +assured purpose, and walked away from her to the further side of the +chamber. "It is true then?" + +"Yes; it is true. Why should it not be true?" + +"God in Heaven! And I to hear about it for the first time in such a +fashion as this! He comes to see you, and because something does not +go as he would have it, he turns round and tells me his story. But +that he has quarrelled with you now, I should never have heard a +syllable." He had come up to her room determined not to believe a +word of it. And now, suddenly, there was no fault of which in his +mind he was not ready to accuse her. He had been deceived, and she +was to him a thing altogether different from that which he had +believed her. + +But she, too, was stung to wrath by the insinuation which his words +contained. She knew herself to be absolutely innocent in every +respect, except that of reticence to her husband. Though she was +prepared to bear the weight of the punishment to which her silence +had condemned her, yet she was sure of the purity of her own conduct. +Knowing his disposition, she did not care to make light of her great +fault, but now something was added, she hardly knew what, of which +she knew herself to be innocent. Something was hinted as to the +friendship remaining between her and this man, of which her husband, +in his pride, should not have accused her. What! Did he think that +she had willingly received her late lover as her friend in his house +and without his knowledge? If he thought that, then, indeed, must all +be over between them. "I do not know what it is that you suspect. You +had better say it out at once." + +"Is this letter true?" and he held the letter up in his hand. + +"I suppose it to be true. I do not know what it contains, but I +presume it to be true." + +"You can read it," and he threw the letter on the table before her. + +She took it up and slowly passed her eyes over the words, +endeavouring, as she did so, to come to some determination as to what +her conduct should be. The purport of the words she did not fully +comprehend, so fully was her mind occupied with thinking of the +condition of her husband's mind; but they left upon her an impression +that in the main Sir Francis Geraldine had told his story truly. +"Yes," she said, "it is true. Before I had met you I was engaged to +marry this other man. Our engagement was broken off, and then mamma +and I travelled abroad together. We there met you, and then you know +the rest." + +"And you thought it proper that I should be kept in the dark!" She +remained silent. She could not apologise to him after hearing the +accusation which rankled in his bosom. She could not go about to +explain that the moment fittest for an explanation had never come. +She could not endeavour even to make him understand that because +her story was so like his own, hers had not been told. She knew the +comparative insignificance of her own fault, and yet circumstances +had brought it about that she must stand oppressed with this weight +of guilt in his eyes. As he should be just or unjust, or rather +merciful or unmerciful, so must she endure or be unable to endure +her doom. "I do not understand it," he said, with affected calm. "It +is the case, then, that you have brought me into this position with +premeditated falsehood, and have wilfully deceived me as to your +previous engagement?" + +"No!" + +"How then?" + +"There has been no wilful deceit,--no cause for deceit whatsoever. +You were engaged to marry the lady who is now Mrs. Geraldine. I was +engaged to marry Sir Francis." + +"But I told you all." + +"You did." + +"It would have been impossible that I should have asked you to be +mine without telling you the whole story." She could not answer him. +She knew it to be true,--that he had told her and must have told her. +But for herself it had been so improbable that he had not known of +her engagement! And then there had been no opportunity,--no fitting +opportunity. She knew that she had been wrong, foolish, ill-judging; +but there had been nothing of that premeditated secrecy,--that +secrecy with a cause, of which he had hinted that she was guilty. +"I suppose that I may take it as proved that I have been altogether +mistaken?" This he said in the severest tone which he knew how to +assume. + +"How mistaken?" + +"I have believed you to be sweet, and pure, and innocent, and +true;--one in whom my spirit might refresh itself as a man bathes his +heated limbs in the cool water. You were to have been to me the joy +of my life,--my great treasure kept at home, open to no eyes but my +own; a thing perfect in beauty, to think of when absent and to be +conscious of when present, without even the need of expression. 'Let +the wind come and the storm,' I said to myself, 'I cannot be unhappy, +because my wife is my own.' There is an external grace about you +which was to my thinking only the culture of the woman within." + +"Well;--well." + +"It was a dream. I had better have married that little girl. She was +silly, and soon loved some one better. But she did not deceive me." + +"And I,--have I deceived you?" + +He paused before he answered her, and then spoke as though with much +thought, "Yes," he said; "yes." + +"Where? How?" + +"I do not know. I cannot pretend even to guess. I shall probably +never know. I shall not strive to know. But I do know that you have +deceived me. There has been, nay, there is, a secret between you and +one whom I regard as among the basest of men, of which I have been +kept purposely in ignorance." + +"There is no such secret." + +"You were engaged to be his wife. That at any rate has been kept +from me. He has been here as your friend, and when he came,--into +my house,--the purport of his visit was kept from me. He asked for +something, which was refused, and consequently he has written to me. +For what did he ask?" + +"Ask! For nothing! What was there for him to ask?" + +"I do not know. I cannot even pretend to guess. As I read his letter +there must have been something. But it does not matter. While you +have seemed to me to be one thing, you have been another. You have +been acting a part from the first moment in which we met, and have +kept it up all through with admirable consistency. You are not that +sweetly innocent creature which I have believed you to be." + +She knew that she was all that he had fancied her, but she could not +say so. She had understood him thoroughly when he had told her that +she had been to him the cool water in which the heated man might +bathe his limbs; that she was the treasure to be kept at home. Even +in her misery, something of delight had come to her senses as she +heard him say that. The position described to her had been exactly +that which it had been her ambition to fill. She knew that in spite +of all that had come and gone she was still fit to fill it. There had +been nothing,--not a thought to mar her innocence, her purity, her +woman's tenderness. She was all his, and he was certain to know every +thought of her mind and every throb of her heart. She did believe +that if he could read them all, he would be perfectly satisfied. But +she could not tell him that it was so. Words so spoken will be the +sweetest that can fall into a man's ear,--if they be believed. But +let there come but the shadow of a doubt over the man's mind, let him +question the sincerity of a tone, and the words will become untrue, +mawkish and distasteful. A thing perfect in beauty! How was she to +say that she would be that to him? And yet, understanding her error +as she had done with a full intelligence, she could have sworn that +it should be so. The beauty he had spoken of was not simply the sheen +of her loveliness, nor the grace of her form. It was the entirety of +her feminine attraction, including the purity of her soul, which was +in truth still there in all its perfection. But she could not tell +him that he was mistaken in doubting her. Now he had told her that +she was not that innocent creature which he had believed her to be. +What was she to do? How was she to restore herself to his favour? +But through it all there was present to her an idea that she would +not humble herself too far. To the extent of the sin which she had +committed she would humble herself if she knew how to do that without +going beyond it. But further than that in justice both to him and +to herself she would not go. "If you have condemned me," she said, +"there must be an end of it,--for the present." + +"Condemned you! Do you not condemn yourself? Have you attempted any +word of excuse? Have you given any reason why I should have been kept +in the dark? Your friend Miss Altifiorla knew it all I presume?" + +"Yes, she knew it all." + +"And you would not have had her here if you could have avoided it +lest she should tell me?" + +"That is true. I wished to be the first to tell you myself." + +"And yet you had never whispered a word of it. Miss Altifiorla and +Sir Francis it seems are friends." Cecilia only shook her head. "I +heard yesterday at the station that they had gone to London together. +I presume they are friends." + +Quickly the idea passed through Mrs. Western's mind that Miss +Altifiorla had been untrue to her. She had kept her word to the +letter in not having told the secret to her husband but she had +discussed the whole matter with Sir Francis, and the letter which Sir +Francis had written was the result. "I do not know," she said. "If +they be more to each other than chance acquaintance I do not know it. +From week to week and from day to day before our marriage the thing +went on and the opportunity never came. Something would always fall +from you which made me afraid to speak at that moment. Then we were +married, and I found how wrong I had been. I still resolved to tell +you, but put it off like a coward from day to day. Your sister had +heard of my first engagement." + +"Did Bertha know it?" + +"Yes; and like myself she was surprised that you should be so +ignorant." + +"She might well be surprised." + +"Then I resolved to tell you. I would not do it till that other woman +had left the house. I would not have her by to see your anger." + +"And now this is the way in which the history of your former life has +reached my ears!" As he said this he held out in his hand the fatal +letter. "This is the manner in which you have left me to be informed +of a subject so interesting! I first hear from Sir Francis Geraldine +that he and you a twelvemonth since were engaged together as man and +wife." Here she stood quite silent. She did not care to tell him +that it was more than twelve months since. "That you think to be +becoming." + +"I do not think so." + +"That you feel to be compatible with my happiness!" Here, again, +there was a pause, during which she looked full into his face. "Such +is not my idea. My happiness is wrecked. It is gone." Here he made a +motion with his hand, as though to show that all his bliss had flown +away from him. + +"Oh, George, if you love me, do not speak like that!" + +"Love you! Yes I love you. I do not suppose that love can be made +to go at once, as I find that esteem may do, and respect, and +veneration." + +"Oh, George, those are hard words!" + +"Is it not so? This morning you were to me of all God's creatures the +brightest and the best. When I entered your room just now it was so +that I regarded you. Can you now be the brightest and the best? Has +not all that romance been changed at a moment's notice? But, alas! +love does not go after the same fashion." Then he turned shortly +round and left the room. + +She remained confounded and awe-stricken. There had been that about +him which seemed to declare a settled purpose--as though he had +intended to leave her for ever. She sat perfectly still, thinking +of it, thinking of the injustice of the sentence that had been +pronounced upon her. Though she had deserved much, she had not +deserved this. Though she had expected punishment, she had not +expected punishment so severe. In about twenty minutes her maid came +up to her, and with a grave face asked whether she would wish that +breakfast should be sent to her in her own room. Mr. Western had sent +to ask the question. "Yes," said she,--"if he pleases." There could +be no good in attempting to conceal from the servants a misery so +deep and so lasting as this. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +MR. WESTERN'S DECISION. + + +What should she do with herself? Her breakfast was brought to her. At +noon she was told that Mr. Western had gone out for the day and would +not return till the evening. She was asked whether she would have +her pony carriage, and, on refusing it, was persuaded by her maid +to walk in the grounds. "I think I will go out," she said, and went +and walked for an hour. Her maid had been peculiarly her own and had +come to her from Exeter; but she would not talk to her maid about +her quarrel with her husband, though she was sure that the girl knew +of the quarrel. Those messages had certainly come direct from her +husband, and could not, she thought, have been sent without some +explanation of the facts. She could see on the faces of all the +household that everyone knew that there was a quarrel. Twenty times +during the day would she have had her husband's name on her tongue +had there been no quarrel. It had been with her as though she had had +a pride in declaring herself to be his wife. But now she was silent +respecting him altogether. She could not bring herself to ask the +gardener whether Mr. Western wished this thing or the other. The +answer had always been that the master wished the paths and the +shrubs and the flowers to be just as she wished them. But now not +a word was spoken. For an hour she walked among the paths, and +then returned to her own room. Would she have her dinner in the +dining-room? If so, the master would have his in the library. Then +she could restrain herself no longer, but burst into tears. No; she +would have no dinner. Let them bring her a cup of tea in her own +room. + +There she sat thinking of her condition, wondering from hour to hour +what was to be the end of it. From hour to hour she sat, and can +hardly have been said to think. She lost herself in pondering first +over her own folly and then upon his gross injustice. She could not +but marvel at her own folly. She had in truth known from the first +moment in which she had resolved to accept his offer, that it was +her duty to tell him the story of her adventure with Sir Francis +Geraldine. It should have been told indeed before she had accepted +his offer, and she could not now forgive herself in that she had been +silent. "You must know my story," she should have said, "before there +can be a word more spoken between us." And then with a clear brow and +without a tremor in her voice she could have told it. But she had +allowed herself to be silent, simply because he had told the same +story, and then the moment had never come. She could not forgive +herself. She could never entirely forgive herself, even though the +day should come in which he might pardon her. + +But would he ever pardon her? Then her mind would fly away to the +injustice of his condemnation. He had spoken to her darkly, as though +he had intended to accuse her of some secret understanding with Sir +Francis. He had believed her to be guilty of some underhand plot +against his happiness, carried on with the man to whom she had +been engaged! Of what was it that he had imagined her to be guilty? +What was the plot of which in his heart he accused her? Then her +imagination looked out and seemed to tell her that there could be but +one. Her husband suspected her of having married him while her heart +was still the property of that other man! And as she thought of +this, indignation for the time almost choked her grief. Could it be +possible that he, to whom she had given everything with such utter +unreserve, whom she had made the god of her idolatry, to whom she had +been exactly that which he had known so well how to describe,--could +it be that he should have had every thought concerning her changed +in a moment, and that from believing her to be all pure and all +innocent, he should have come to regard her as a thing so vile as +that? She almost tore her hair in her agony as she said that it +must be so. He had told her that his respect, his esteem, and his +veneration, had all passed away. She could never consent to live with +him trusting solely to his love without esteem. + +But as the evening passed away and the night came, and as the +duration of the long hours of the day seemed to grow upon her, and as +no tidings came to her from her lord, she began to tell herself that +it was unbecoming that she should remain without knowing her fate. +The whole length of the tedious day had passed since he had left her +and had condemned her to breakfast in solitude. Then she accused +herself of having been hard with him during that interview, of having +failed to submit herself in repentance, and she told herself that if +she could see him once more, she might still whisper to him the truth +and soften his wrath. But something she must do. She had dismissed +her maid for the last time, and sat miserably in her room till +midnight. But still she could not go to bed till she had made some +effort. She would at any rate write to him one word. She got up +therefore and seated herself at the table with pen and ink before +her. She would write the whole story, she thought, simply the whole +story, and would send it to him, leaving it to him to believe or to +disbelieve it as he pleased. But as she bent over the table she felt +that she could not write such a letter as that without devoting an +entire day to it. Then she rapidly scrawled a few words:-- + + + DEAREST GEORGE,--Come to me and let me tell you + everything.--Your own CECILIA. + + +Then she addressed it to him and put it under her pillow that she +might send it to him as soon as she should wake in the morning. +Having done so she got into her bed and wept herself asleep. + +When the girl came into the room in the morning she at once asked +after her husband. "Is Mr. Western up yet?" The maid informed her +with an air of grave distress that Mr. Western had risen early and +had been driven away from the house to catch a morning train. More +than that the girl could not say. But she believed that a letter had +been left on the library table. She had heard John say that there was +such a letter. But John had gone with his master to the station. Then +she sent down for the letter, and within a few minutes held it in her +hand. + +We will now go back to Mr. Western. He, as soon as he had left his +wife's room in the morning went down-stairs, and began to consider +within himself what was the cause of this evil thing which had been +done to him. A very evil thing had been done. He did feel that the +absolute happiness which had been his for the last few days had +perished and gone from him. He was a man undemonstrative, and silent +in expressing his own feelings, but one who revelled inwardly in his +own feelings of contentment when he was content. His wife had been to +him all that he had dreamt that a woman should be. She had filled up +his cup with infinite bliss, though he had never told even to her how +full his cup had been. But in everything he had striven to gratify +her, and had been altogether successful. To go on from day to day +with his books, with his garden, with his exercise, and above all +with his wife, had been enough to secure absolute happiness. He had +suspected no misfortune, and had anticipated no drawback. Then on +a sudden there had come this damnable letter, which had made him +wretched for the time, even though he were sure that it was not true. +But he had known that it was only for the time, for he had been sure +that it was untrue. Then the blow had fallen, and all his contentment +was banished. There was some terrible mystery,--some mystery of which +he could not gauge the depth. Though he was gracious and confiding +and honest when left at peace, still he was painfully suspicious when +something arose of which the circumstances were kept back from him. +There was a secret here,--there was certainly a secret; and it was +shared between his wife, whom of all human beings he had loved the +best, and the man whom he most thoroughly despised. As long as it +was possible that the whole tale might be an invention he would not +believe a word against his wife; but, when it appeared that there was +certainly some truth in it, then it seemed that there was nothing too +monstrous for him to believe. + +After his solitary breakfast he walked abroad, and turned it all in +his mind. He had given her the opportunity of telling him everything, +and she had told him nothing. So he declared to himself. That one +damning fact was there,--clear as daylight, that she had willingly +bestowed herself upon this baronet, this creature who to his thinking +was vile as a man could be. As to that there was no doubt. That was +declared. How different must she have been from that creature whom +he had fancied that he had loved, when she would have willingly +consented to be the wife of such a man? And this had been done within +a year,--as he said. And then she had married him, telling him +nothing of it, though she must have known that he would discover it +as soon as she was his wife. It suited her to be his wife,--for some +reason which he could not perceive. She had achieved her object;--but +not on that account need he live with her. It had been an affair of +money, and his money she might have. + +He came back and got his horse, as the motion of walking was not fast +enough for him in his passion. It was grievous to be borne,--the fact +that he had been so mistaken in choosing for himself a special woman +as a companion of his life. He had desired her to be all honour, all +truth, all simplicity, and all innocence. And instead of these things +he had encountered fraud and premeditated deceit. She was his wife +indeed;--but not on that account need he live with her. + +And then his curiosity was raised. What was the secret between them? +There must have been some question of money, as to which at the last +moment they had disagreed. To his thinking it was vile that a young +woman should soil her mind with such thoughts and marry or reject +a man at the last moment because of his money. All that should be +arranged for her by her friends, so that she might go to her husband +without having been mixed in any question of a sordid matter. But +these two had probably found at the last moment that their income +was insufficient for their wants, and therefore his purse had been +thought convenient. As all these things, with a thousand others, +passed through his mind he came to the determination that at any rate +they must part. + +He came home, and before he ate his dinner he wrote to her that +letter, of which the contents shall now be given. It was a most +unreasonable letter. But to him in his sorrow, in his passion, it +seemed that every word was based upon reason. + + + DEAR CECILIA, [the letter ran] + + I need hardly tell you that I was surprised by the facts + which you at last told me this morning. I should have + been less pained, perhaps, had they come to me in the + first instance from yourself instead of from Sir Francis + Geraldine. But I do not know that the conclusion to which + I have been forced would have been in any way altered + had such been the case. I can hardly, I fear, make you + understand the shock with which I have received the + intelligence, that a month or two before I proposed to you + you had been the promised wife of that man. I need hardly + tell you that had I known that it was so I should not have + offered you my hand. To say the least of it, I was led + into my marriage by mistake. But a marriage commenced with + such a mistake as that cannot be happy. + + As to your object I cannot surmise. But I suppose that you + were satisfied, thinking me to be of a nature especially + soft and gentle. But I fear I am not so. After what has + passed I cannot bring myself to live with you again. Pray + believe it. We have now parted for ever. + + As to your future welfare, and as to the honour which will + be due to my name, which you must continue to bear, I am + quite willing to make any arrangements which friends of + yours shall think to be due to you. Half my income you + shall have, and you shall live here in this house if it be + thought well for you. In reference to these things your + lawyers had better see my lawyers. In the meantime my + bankers will cash your cheques. But believe me that I am + gone, not to return. + + Your affectionate husband, + + GEORGE WESTERN. + + +These words he wrote, struggling to be cool and rational while he +wrote them, and then he departed, leaving the letter upon the table. + + +END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. + + + + +VOLUME II. + +CHAPTER XIII. + +MRS. WESTERN PREPARES TO LEAVE. + + +Cecilia, when she first read her husband's letter, did not clearly +understand it. It could not be that he intended to leave her for +ever! They had been married but a few months,--a few months of +inexpressible love and confidence; and it was impossible that he +should intend that they should be thus parted. But when she had read +it again and again, she began to perceive that it was so; "Pray +believe it. We have now parted for ever." Had he stopped there her +belief would have only been half-hearted. She would not in truth +have thought that he had been in earnest in dooming her to eternal +separation. But he had gone on with shocking coolness to tell her how +he had arranged his plans for the future. "Half my income you shall +have." "You shall live here in this house, if it be thought well for +you." "Your lawyer had better see my lawyers." It was, in truth, his +intention that it should be so. And she had already begun to have +some knowledge of the persistency of his character. She was already +aware that he was a man not likely to be moved from his word. He had +gone, and it was his intention to go. And he had declared with a +magnanimity which she now felt to be odious, and almost mean, what +liberal arrangements he had made for her maintenance. She was in no +want of income. She told herself that she would rather starve in the +street than eat his bread, unless she might eat it from the same loaf +with him; that she would rather perish in the cold than enjoy the +shelter of his roof, unless she might enjoy it with him. + +There she remained the whole day by herself, thinking that something +must occur to mitigate the severity of the sentence which he had +pronounced against her. It could not be that he should leave her +thus,--he whose every word, whose every tone, whose every look, whose +every touch had hitherto been so full of tenderness. If he had loved +as she had loved how could he live without her? He had explained +his idea of a wife, and though he had spoken the words in his anger, +still she had been proud. But now it seemed as though he would have +her believe that she was wholly unnecessary to him. It could not be +so. He could not so have deceived her. It must be that he would want +her as she wanted him, and that he must return to her to satisfy the +cravings of his own heart. + +But as time went on her tenderness gradually turned to anger. He had +pronounced the sentence, the heaviest sentence which his mind could +invent against her whom he had made his own. Was that sentence just? +She told herself again and again that it was most unjust. The fault +which she had committed deserved no such punishment. She confessed to +herself that she had promised to become the wife of a man unworthy of +her; but when she had done so she had not known her present husband. +He at least had no cause of anger with her in regard to that. And +she, as soon as she had found out her mistake and the man's character +had become in part revealed to her, had with a terrible courage taken +the bull by the horns and broken away from the engagement which +outward circumstances at any rate made attractive. Then with her +mother she had gone abroad, and there she had met with Mr. Western. +At the moment of their meeting she had been at any rate innocent in +regard to him. From that moment she had performed her duty to him, +and had been sincere in her love, even as such a man as Mr. Western +could desire,--with the one exception of her silence. It was true +that she should have told him of Sir Francis Geraldine; of her folly +in accepting him and her courage in repudiating him. Day by day the +days had gone by, and there had been some cause for fresh delay, that +cause having ever reference to his immediate comfort. Did she not +know that had she told him, his offer, his love, his marriage would +have been the same? And now, was she to be turned adrift and thrown +aside, rejected and got rid of at an instant's notice, because, +for his comfort, the telling of her story had been delayed? The +injustice, the cruelty, the inhumanity of such a punishment were very +plain to her. + +Could he do it? As her husband had he a right so to dismiss her +from his bosom? And his money? Perish his money! And his house! The +remembrance of the offers which he made to her aggravated her wrath +bitterly. As his wife she had a right to his care, to his presence, +and to his tenderness. She had not married him simply to be +maintained and housed. Nor was that the meaning of their marriage +contract. Before God he had no right to send her away from him, and +to bid her live and die alone. + +But though he had no right he had the power. She could not force him +to be her companion. The law would give her only those things which +she did not care to claim. He already offered more than the law would +exact, and she despised his generosity. As long as he supported her +the law could not bring him back and force him to give her to eat of +his own loaf, and to drink of his own cup. The law would not oblige +him to encircle her in his arms. The law would not compel him to +let her rest upon his bosom. None of those privileges which were +undoubtedly her own could the law obtain for her. He had said that he +had gone, and would not return, and the law could not bring him back +again. Then she sat and wept, and told herself how much better for +her would have been that single life of which Miss Altifiorla had +preached to her the advantages. + +The second day since his departure had passed and she had taken no +step. Alone she had given way to sorrow and to indignation, but as +yet had decided on nothing. She had waited, still thinking that +something would be done to soften her sorrow; but nothing had been +done. The servants around her moved slowly, solemnly, and as though +struck with awe. Her own maid had tried to say a word once and again, +but had been silenced by the manner of her mistress. Cecilia, though +she felt the weight of the silence, could not bring herself to tell +the girl that her husband had left her for ever. The servants no +doubt knew it all, but she could not bring herself to tell them that +it was so. He had told her that her cheques on his bankers would be +paid, but she had declared that on no account should such cheque +be drawn by her. If he had made up his mind to desert her, and had +already left her without intending further communication, she must +provide for herself. She must go back to her mother, where the eyes +of all Exeter would see her. But she must in the first instance write +to her mother; and how could she explain to her mother all that had +happened? Would even her own mother believe her when she said that +she was already deserted by her husband for ever and ever because she +had not told him the story respecting Sir Francis Geraldine? + +On the third morning she resolved that she would write to her +husband. It was not fit, so she told herself, that she should leave +his house without some further word of instruction from him. But how +to address him she was ignorant. He was gone, but she did not know +whither. The servants, no doubt, knew where, but she could not bring +herself to ask them. On the third day she wrote as follows. The +reader will remember that that short scrawl which she addressed to +him from her bedroom had not been sent. + + + DEAR GEORGE,--This is the first letter I have written to + you as your wife, and it will be very sad. I do not think + that you can have remembered that yours would be the first + which I had ever received from my husband. + + Your order has crushed me altogether. It shall, + nevertheless, be obeyed as far as I am able to obey it. + You say something as to your means, and something also as + to your house. In that you cannot be obeyed. It is not + possible that I should take your money or live in your + house unless I am allowed to do so as your wife. The law, + I think, says that I may do so. But the law, of course, + cannot compel a man to be a loving, tender husband, or + even to accept the tenderness of a loving wife. I know + what you owe me, but I know also that I cannot exact it + unless you can give it with all your heart. Your money and + your house I will not have unless I can have them together + with yourself. Your bread would choke me. Your roof would + not shelter me. Your good things would be poison to + me,--unless you were here to make me feel that they were + yours also as well as mine. If you mean to insist on the + severity of your order, you will have to get rid of me + altogether. I shall then have come across two men of which + I do not know whether to wonder most at the baseness of + the one or the cruelty of the other. In that case I can + only return to my mother. In that case you will not, I + think, care much what may become of me; but as I shall + still bear your name, it is, I suppose, proper that you + should know where I purpose living. + + But, dear George, dearest George,--I wish you could know + how much dearer to me in spite of your cruelty than all + the world besides,--I cannot even yet bring myself to + believe that we can for ever be separated. Dear George, + endeavour to think how small has been my offence and + how tremendous is the punishment which you propose. The + offence is so small that I will not let myself down by + asking your pardon. Had you said a word sitting beside me, + even a word of anger, then I could have done so. I think I + could have made you believe how altogether accidental it + had been. But I will not do so now. I should aggravate + my own fault till it would appear to you that I had done + something of which I ought to be ashamed, and which + perhaps you ought not to forgive. I have done nothing of + which I am ashamed, and nothing certainly which you ought + even to think it necessary to pardon. + + +When she had got so far she sat for a while thinking whether she +would or would not tell him of the cause and the manner of her +silence. Should she refer him to his sister, who understood so well +how that silence had been produced? Should she explain to him that +she had in the first case hesitated to tell him her story because +her story had been so like to his own? But as she thought of it all, +she declared to herself that were she to do so she would in truth +condescend to ask his pardon. What she required of him was that he +should acknowledge her nature, her character, her truth to be such +that he had made a grievous mistake in attributing to her aught that +was a just cause of anger. "You stupid girl, you foolish girl, to +have given yourself and me such cause for discomfort!" That he should +have said to her, with his arm round her waist; that and nothing +more. Thinking of all this she resolved not to go into that subject. +Should she ever do so it must be when he had come back to her, and +was sitting there with his arm around her waist. She ended her +letter, therefore, very shortly. + + + As I must wait here till I hear from you, and cannot even + write to my mother till I do so, I must beg you to answer + my letter quickly. I shall endeavour to go on without + drawing any cheques. If I find it necessary I shall have + to write to my mother for money. + + Your most affectionate wife, + + CECILIA WESTERN. + + Oh, George, if you knew how I love you! + + +Then, as she did not like to send the letter out among the servants +without any address, and thus to confess to them that she did not +know where her husband had gone, she directed the letter to him at +his club in London. + +During the next day or two the pity of her servants, the silent, +unexpressed pity, was very hard to bear. As each morning came her +punishment seemed to become more and more intolerable to her. She +could not read. There were none among her friends, not even her +mother, to whom she could write. It was still her hope,--her faintest +hope, that she need confess to none of them the fact that her husband +had quarrelled with her. She could only sit and ponder over the +tyranny of the man who by his mere suspicions could subject a woman +to so cruel a fate. But on the evening of the third day she was told +that a gentleman had called to see her. Mr. Gray sent his card in to +her, and she at once recognised Mr. Gray as her husband's attorney. +She was sitting at the open window of her own bedroom, looking into +the garden, and she was aware that she had been weeping. "I will be +down at once," she said to the maid, "if Mr. Gray will wait." + +"Oh, ma'am, you do take on so dreadfully!" said the girl. + +"Never mind, Mary. I will come down and see Mr. Gray if you will +leave me." + +"Oh, ma'am, oh, Miss Holt, I have known you so long, may I not say a +word to you?" + +"I am not Miss Holt. I am still entitled to bear my husband's name." +Then the girl, feeling herself to have been rebuked, was leaving +the room, when her mistress jumped up from her seat, took her in +her arms, and kissed her. "Oh, Mary," she said, "I am unhappy, so +unhappy! But pray do not tell them. It is true that you have known me +long, and I can trust you." Then the girl, crying much more bitterly +than her mistress, left the room. + +In a few minutes Cecilia followed her, and entered the parlour into +which Mr. Gray had been shown, without a sign of tears upon her +cheeks. She had been able to assume a look of injured feminine +dignity, of almost magnificent innocence, by which the lawyer was +much startled. She was resolved at any rate to confess no injury done +by herself to her husband, and to say nothing to Mr. Gray of any +injury done by him to her. Mr. Gray, too, was a gentleman, a man over +fifty years of age, who had been solicitor to Mr. Western's father. +He knew the husband in this case well, but he had as yet known +nothing of the wife. He had been simply told by Mr. Western to +understand that he, Mr. Western, had no fault to find with the lady; +that he had not a word to say against her; but that unfortunately +circumstances had so turned out that all married happiness was +impossible for him. Mr. Gray had endeavoured to learn the facts; +but he had been aware that Mr. Western was a man who would not bear +pumping. A question or two he had asked, and had represented to his +client how dreadful was the condition to which he was condemning both +the lady and himself. But his observations were received with that +peculiar cold civility which the man's manner assumed when he felt +that interference was taken in matters which were essentially private +to himself. "It is so, Mr. Gray, that in this case it cannot be +avoided. I wish you to understand, that all pecuniary arrangements +are to be made for Mrs. Western which she herself may desire. Were +she to ask for everything I possess she must have it,--down to the +barest pittance." But at this moment he had not received his wife's +letter. + +There was a majesty of beauty about Mrs. Western by which Mr. Gray +was startled, but which he came to recognise before the interview was +over. I cannot say that he understood the cause of the quarrel, but +he had become aware that there was much in the lady very much on a +par with her husband's character. And she, when she found out, as she +did instinctively, that she had to deal with a gentleman, dropped +something of the hauteur of her silence. But she said not a word +as to the cause of their disagreement. Mr. Gray asked the question +in the simplest language. "Can you not tell me why you two have +quarrelled so quickly after your marriage?" But she simply referred +him to her husband. "I think you must ask Mr. Western about that." +Mr. Gray renewed the question, feeling how important it was that +he should know. But she only smiled, and again referred him to her +husband. But when he came to speak to her about money arrangements +she smiled no longer. "It will not be necessary," she said. + +"But it is Mr. Western's wish." + +"It will not be necessary. Mr. Western has decided that we +must--part. On that matter I have nothing to say. But there will be +nothing for any lawyer to do on my behalf. If Mr. Western has made +up his mind, I will return to my mother. I can assure you that no +steps need be taken as to money." "No steps will be possible," she +added with all that feminine majesty which was peculiar to her. "I +understand from you that Mr. Western's mind is made up. You can +tell him that I shall be ready to leave this house for my mother's, +in--let me say a week." Mr. Gray went back to town having been able +to make no other arrangement. He might pay the servants' wages,--when +they were due; and the tradesmen's bills; but for herself and her +own peculiar wants Mrs. Western would take no money. "You may tell +Mr. Western," she said, "that I shall not have to encroach on his +liberality." So Mr. Gray went back to town; and Mrs. Western carried +herself through the interview without the shedding of a tear, without +the utterance of a word of tenderness,--so that the lawyer on leaving +her hardly knew what her wishes were. + +"Nevertheless I think it is his doing," he said to himself. "I think +she loves him." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +TO WHAT A PUNISHMENT! + + +Mr. Western, when he received his wife's letter, after having given +his instructions to the lawyer, was miserable enough. But not on that +account did he think of changing his purpose. He had made up his +mind,--as men say, and having made it up he assured himself that he +had done it with ample cause. He could not quite explain to himself +the reasons for his anger. He did not quite know what were the faults +of which he accused his wife. But he was sure that his wrath was +just, and had come from sins on her part which it would be unbecoming +that he as a man and a husband should condone. And his anger was the +hotter because he did not know what those sins were. There had been +some understanding,--so he thought,--between his wife and Sir Francis +Geraldine which was derogatory to his honour. There had been an +understanding and a subsequent quarrel, and Sir Francis Geraldine had +been base enough to inform him of the understanding because of the +quarrel. Sir Francis no doubt had been very base, but not on that +account had his wife been less a sinner. What was it to him that Sir +Francis should be base? No vice, no lies, no cruelty on the part of +Sir Francis were anything to him. But his wife;--that she whom he +had taken to his bosom as his own, that she in whom he had believed, +she who was to be the future depository of all his secrets, his very +second self, that she, in the very moment in which he had exposed +to her the tenderness of his heart, that she should then have +entertained a confidential intercourse with such a one as Sir Francis +Geraldine, an intercourse of which she had intended that he should +know nothing,--that, that was more than he could endure. It was +this,--this feeling that he was to know nothing of it, which was too +much for him. It seemed to him that he had been selected to be a +stalking-horse for them in their intercourse. It was not that he ever +accused his wife of illicit love. He was not base enough to think +her so base as that. But there had been some cause for a mysterious +alliance as to which he had been kept in the dark. To be kept in the +dark, and by his own wife, was the one thing that was unendurable. +And then the light had been let in upon him by that letter from Sir +Francis, in which Sir Francis had offered "such courtesies as are +generally held to be pleasant in a neighbourhood!" The intention +had been that this old friendship should be renewed under his roof, +and be renewed without any information being given to him that it +had ever previously existed. This was the feeling that had made it +incumbent on him to repudiate a wife who had so treated him. This was +the feeling which forbad him to retreat from his suicidal purpose. +His wife had had a secret, a secret which it was not intended that he +should share, and her partner in the secret had been that man whom +of all men he had despised the most, and who, as he now learnt, had +been only the other day engaged to marry her. In fostering his wrath +he had declared to himself that it was but only the other day; and +he had come to think that at the very moment in which he had told +Cecilia Holt of all his own troubles she had then, even then, been +engaged to this abominable baronet. "I have got another man to offer +to marry me, and therefore our engagement, which is a trouble to us +both, may now be over." Some such communication as this had been +made, and he had been the victim of it. + +And yet as he thought of all this, and nursed his rage, and told +himself how impossible it was that he should even pretend to live +with such a woman with continued confidence, even then he was at +moments almost overcome by the tenderness of his recollections. He +had loved her so entirely; and she to his outward eyes and outward +ears had been so fit to be loved! He had thanked his stars that after +running into so great a peril with that other lady it had at last +been given to him to settle his heart where it might dwell securely. +She had required from him no compliments, none of the little +weaknesses of love-making, no pretences, had demanded from him the +taking of no trouble which would have grated against his feeling. She +had been everything that his very soul desired. Even on the day after +their wedding he had been able to sit down with her in a quiet and +assured conviction that she was all that he wanted to make him happy. +And she had played her part so well! She had been to him as though it +had been a fresh thing to her to love a man with all her heart, and +to be able to talk to him of her love. And yet she, the while, was +in secret and most intimate communication with a man to whom he +had been in the habit of applying within his own breast all the +vilest epithets which the language could afford. "Swindler, thief, +scoundrel," were the terms he had thought of. In his dislike to the +ways of the world in general he had declared to himself that the +world admitted such as Sir Francis within its high places without +disgust. This was the man who had coolly demanded to be intimate with +him, and had done so in order that he might maintain his acquaintance +with his wife! + +We know how wrong he was in these thoughts;--how grievously he +wronged her of whom he was thinking. Of the worst of all these sins +she was absolutely innocent;--of so much the worst that the fault of +which she had not been innocent was not worth regarding when thought +of in reference to that other crime. But still it was thus that he +believed, and though he was aware that he was about to submit himself +to absolute misery in decreeing their separation, yet there was to +his thinking no other remedy. He had been kept in the dark. To the +secrets of others around him he was he declared to himself absolutely +indifferent. They might have their mysteries and it would be nothing +to him. He had desired to have one whose mysteries should be his +mysteries; who should share every thought of his heart, and of whose +secret thoughts he desired to keep the only key. He had flattered +himself that it was so, and this had been the result! It may be +doubted whether his misery were not altogether as bitter as hers. + +"Of course she shall live with her mother if she pleases it," he +said to Mr. Gray on the following morning. "As to money, if she will +name no sum that she requires I must leave it to you to say what in +justice ought to be allowed to her. You know all the circumstances of +my property." + +"But I know none of the circumstances of your marriage," replied Mr. +Gray. + +"They were altogether of the usual kind." + +"None of the circumstances of your separation, I should have said." + +"It is unnecessary," replied Mr. Western, gloomily. + +"It will be very difficult to give her any advice." + +"You may take it if you will that the fault is all mine. I would +provide for her as I should be bound to do if by my own cruelty or my +own misconduct I had driven her from me!" He had no idea as he said +this that by his own cruelty and his own misconduct he was driving +her from him. + +"My conviction is that she will take nothing," said Mr. Gray. + +"In a matter of business she must take it. The money must be paid +to her, let her do what she will with it. Even though it should be +thrown into the sea, I must pay it." + +"I think you will find that she has a will of her own." + +"And she will find that I have," said Mr. Western with a frown. +It was exactly on this point that the husband and wife were being +separated. He had thought that she had calculated that when once they +were married she had carried her purpose in spite of his will. But he +would let her understand that it was not so. She had so far succeeded +that she was entitled to bear his name, but she had not mastered him +in the matter, and should not do so. + +"It is a thousand pities, Mr. Western, you will allow me to say so, +but it is a thousand pities. A most handsome lady:--with a fine +lady-like air! One in a thousand!" + +Mr. Western could not endure to hear the catalogue of his wife's +charms set forth to him. He did not want to be told by his lawyer +that she was "handsome" and "one in a thousand"! In that respect +their quarrel made no difference. No gentleman wishes another to +assure him that his wife is one in a thousand. An old mother might +say so, or an old aunt; hardly any one less near and less intimate +could be allowed to do so. Mr. Western was aware that no man in the +ordinary course of events would be less likely to offend in that way +than Mr. Gray. But in this case Mr. Gray should not, he thought, have +done it. He had come to Mr. Gray about money and not about his wife's +beauty. "I hardly think we need discuss that," he said, still with +a heavy frown on his brow. "Perhaps you will think over what I have +said to you, and name a sum to-morrow." + +"At the risk of making you angry I have to speak," continued Mr. +Gray. "I knew your father, and have known you all your life. If this +is to make her miserable, and if, as I gather, she has committed +no great fault, will it not be--wicked?" Mr. Gray sat silent for a +few moments, looking him in the face. "Have you consulted your own +conscience, and what it will say to you after a time? She has given +all that she has to you, though there has not been a shilling,--and +no money can repay her. One fault is not pardonable,--one only +fault." + +"No, no. I do not accuse her." + +"Nor dream that she is guilty,--if I understand the matter rightly." + +"No, I do not. But I do not come here to be interrogated about her +after this fashion,--nor to be told that I am wicked. For what sins +I commit I must be myself responsible. I am unable,--at any rate +unwilling,--to tell you the circumstances, and must leave you to draw +your own conclusions. If you will think over the matter, and will +name a sum, I shall be obliged to you." Then he was about to leave +the chamber, but Mr. Gray interposed himself between his client and +the door. + +"Pray excuse me, Mr. Western. I know that you are angry, but pray +excuse me. I should ill do my duty to an old client whom I respect +did I not dare, as being older than he is, to give the advice which +as a bystander I think that he requires." Mr. Western stood perfectly +silent before him, but clearly showing his wrath by the frown upon +his brow. "I venture to say that you are taking upon yourself as a +husband to do that which the world will not pardon." + +"I care nothing for the world." + +"Pardon me. You will care for it when you come to consider that its +decision has been just. When you have to reflect that you have ruined +for ever the happiness of a woman whom you have sworn to love and +protect, and that you have cast her from you for some reason which +you cannot declare and which is not held to justify such usage, then +you will regard what the world says. You will regard it because your +own conscience will say the same. If I mistake not you still love +her." + +"I am not here to discuss such points," said Mr. Western angrily. + +"Think of the severity of the punishment which you are inflicting +upon one whom you love; and of the effect it must have on her +feelings. I tell you that you have no right to do this,--unless she +has been guilty as you confess she has not." Then he seated himself +in his arm-chair, and Mr. Western left the chamber without saying +another word. + +He went out into Lincoln's Inn, and walked westward towards his Club, +hardly knowing in his confusion whither he was going. At first his +breast was hot with anger against Mr. Gray. The man had called him +wicked and cruel, and had known nothing of the circumstances. Could +it be wicked, could it be cruel for him to resent such treachery +as that of which he had been the victim? All his holiest hopes had +been used against him for the vilest purposes and with the most fell +effect! He at any rate had been ruined for ever. And the man had told +him about the world! What did he in his misery care for the world's +judgment? Cecilia had married him,--and in marrying him had torn his +heart asunder. This man had accused him of cruelty in leaving her. +But how could he have continued to live with her without hypocrisy? +Cruel indeed! What were her sufferings to his,--hers, who had +condescended to the level of Sir Francis Geraldine, and had +trafficked with such a one as that as to the affairs of their joint +happiness! To such a woman it was not given to suffer. Yes; she was +beautiful and she looked as a lady should look. Mr. Gray had been +right enough in that. But he had not known how looks may deceive, how +noble to the eye may be the face of a woman while her heart within is +ignoble, paltry, and mean. But as he went on with his walk by degrees +he came to forget Mr. Gray, and to think of the misery which was in +store for himself. And though at the moment he despised Mr. Gray, his +thoughts did occupy themselves exactly with those perils of which Mr. +Gray had spoken. The woman had trusted herself to his care and had +given him her beauty and her solicitude. He did in his heart believe +that she loved him. He remembered the last words of her letter--"Oh, +George, if you knew how I love you!" He did not doubt but that those +words were true. He did not suppose that she had given her heart to +Sir Francis Geraldine,--that she had truly and sincerely devoted +herself to one so mean as that! Such heart as she had to give had +been given to himself. But there had been traffic of marriage with +this man, and even continued correspondence and an understanding as +to things which had put her with all her loveliness on a level with +him rather than with her existing husband. What this understanding +was he did not, he said, care to inquire. It had existed and still +did exist. That was enough to make him know that she was untrue to +him as his wife,--untrue in spirit if not in body. But in truth he +did care to know. It was, indeed, because he had not known, because +he had been allowed only to guess and search and think about it, that +all this misery had come. He had been kept in the dark, and to be +kept in the dark was to him, of all troubles, the most grievous. When +he had first received the letter from Sir Francis he had not believed +it to be true;--from first to last it had been a fiction. But when +once his wife had told him that the engagement had existed, he +believed all. It was as though she had owned to him the circumstance +of a still existing intimate friendship. He had been kept in the +dark, but he did not know how far. + +But still there loomed to him as to the future, vaguely, the idea +that by the deed he was doing now, at this present moment, he was +sacrificing her happiness and his own for ever,--as regarded this +world. And the people would say that he had done so, the people +whose voices he could not but regard. She would say so, and her +mother,--and he must acknowledge it. And Lady Grant would know that +it had been so, and Mr. Gray would always think so to the end. And +his heart became tender even towards her. What would be her fate,--as +his wife and therefore debarred from the prospects of any other +future? She would live with her mother as any widow would live,--with +much less of hope, with less chance of enjoying her life, than would +any other widow. And when her mother should die she would be all +alone. To what a punishment was he not dooming her! + +If he could die himself it would be well for all parties. He had +taken his great step in life and had failed. Why should he doom her, +who was differently constituted, to similar failure? It had been a +great mistake. He had made it and now there was no escape. But then +again his pity for himself welled up in his heart. Why had he been +so allured, so deceived, so cozened? He had intended to have given +all good things. The very essence of his own being he had bestowed +upon her,--while she, the moment that his back was turned, was +corresponding with Sir Francis Geraldine! That thought he could not +stand. She, in truth, had been greatly in error in her first view of +the character of Sir Francis Geraldine; but it must be a question +whether he was not so also. The baronet was a poor creature, but not +probably so utterly vile as he thought him. As he turned it all over +in his mind, while wandering to and fro, he came to the conclusion +that Mr. Gray was wrong, and that it was impossible that she who had +been the sharer of the thoughts of Sir Francis Geraldine, should now +remain to share his. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +ONCE MORE AT EXETER. + + +Three weeks had passed and much had been done for Mrs. Western to fix +her fate in life. It was now August, and she was already living at +Exeter as a wife separated from her husband. Of much she had had to +think and much to determine before she had found that haven of rest. +Twice during the time she had received letters from her husband, +but each letter had been short, and, though not absolutely without +affection in its language, each letter had been absolutely obdurate. +He had been made quite sure that it was not for the benefit of either +of them that they should attempt to live together. Having come to +that decision, which he represented as unchangeable, he was willing, +he said, to do anything which she might demand for her future +satisfaction and comfort. "There is nothing you can do," she had said +when she had written last, "as you have refused to do your duty." +This had made him again angry. "What right had she to talk to me of +my duty seeing that she has so grossly neglected her own?" he said to +himself. Then he had suddenly gone from England, leaving no address +even with his sister or with his lawyer. But during this time his +mind was not quiet for one instant. How could she have treated him +so, him, who had been so absolutely devoted to her, who had so +entirely given himself up to her happiness? + +Lady Grant, when she had heard what was to be done, had hurried up to +London but had not found them. She had gone to Exeter and there she +had in vain endeavoured to comfort Cecilia. She had declared that her +brother would in time forgive. But Cecilia's whole nature had by this +time apparently been changed. "Forgive!" she had said. "What will +he forgive? There is nothing that he can forgive; nothing that can +be spoken of in the same breath with his perfidy and cruelty. Can I +forgive? Ask yourself that, Lady Grant. Is it possible that I should +forgive?" After two days spent in conversations such as these, Lady +Grant went back to town and discussed the matter with Mr. Gray. They +did not at present know her brother's address; but still there was a +hope that she might induce him to hear reason and again to consent +to live with his wife. "Of all men," she said to the lawyer, "he is +the most honest and the most affectionate; but of all men the most +self-willed and obstinate. An injustice is with him like a running +sore; and, alas, it is not always an injustice, but a something that +he has believed to be unjust." + +Cecilia had written at great length to her mother, telling her with +all details the story as it was to be told, and sparing herself in +nothing. "That wicked man has contrived it all. But, oh, that such a +one as my husband should have been weak enough to have fallen into a +pit so prepared!" Then Mrs. Holt had come up to town and taken her +daughter back with her to Exeter. Now, at last, on this occasion, +the old lady was both energetic and passionate. There had been much +discussion before they had both decided that they would again venture +to live together among their old friends in their old home. But here +Cecilia had shown herself to be once again stronger than her mother. +"Why not?" she said. "What have I done to make it necessary that you +should be torn away from your house? I am not at all ashamed of what +I have done." In this she had blazoned forth her courage with almost +a false conviction. She knew that she had done wrong;--that she had +done that of which among wives she ought to be ashamed. But her sin +had been so small in comparison with the punishment inflicted upon +her that it sunk to nothing even in her own eyes. She felt that she +had been barbarously used. The people of Exeter, or the people of the +world at large, might sympathise with her or not as they pleased. But +under such a mountain of wrong as she had endured, she would not show +by any conduct of her own that she could have in the least deserved +it. "No, mamma," she said; "let them stay away or let them come, I +shall be ready for either. I am a poor, wretched woman, whom to crush +utterly has been within the power of the man she has loved. He has +chosen to exercise it, and I must suffer. But he shall not make me +ashamed. I have done nothing to deserve his cruelty." + +And then when she had been at Exeter but a few days there came +another source of trouble,--though not of unmitigated trouble. She +told her mother that in due course of time her cruel husband would +become the father of a child. She would not write to him. He had +not chosen to let her know his address; nor was it fitting to her +feelings to communicate such a fact in a letter which she must +address secretly to his banker or to his club. Yet the fact was of +such a nature that it was imperative that he should know it. At last +it was told by Mrs. Holt to Lady Grant. Cecilia had herself attempted +it, but had found that she could not do it. She could not write the +letter without some word of tenderness, and she was resolved that no +word of tenderness should go from her to him. It would seem as though +she were asking for money, and were putting forward the coming of the +little stranger as a plea for it. She would ask for no money. She had +appealed to his love, and had appealed in vain. If he were hard, she +would be so too. In her heart of hearts she probably entertained the +idea of some possible future in which she might yet put the child +into its father's arms;--but it should be done not at her request. +It should be at his prayer. At least there was this comfort to +her,--that she no longer dreaded his power. He had so contrived that +to her thinking the fault was altogether on his side. Forgive! Oh +yes; she would forgive! Oh yes; she would forgive, so readily, so +sweetly, with the full determination that it should all be like a +blank nightmare that had come between them and troubled their joys. +But in the bottom of the heart of each it must be understood that it +had been hers to pardon and his to be pardoned. Or if not so, then +she must continue to live her widowed life at Exeter. + +Mrs. Holt was energetic and passionate rather than discreet. She +would not admit that her child had done any wrong, and could not be +got to understand but that the law should make a husband live with +his wife in the proper way. It was monstrous to her thinking that +her daughter should be married and taken away, and then sent back, +without any offence on her part. In the resentment which she felt +against Mr. Western she filled quite a new part among the people of +Exeter. "Oh, mamma; you are so loving, so good," said her daughter; +"but do not let us talk about it! Cannot you understand that, angry +as I am, I cannot endure to have him abused?" "Abused!" said Mrs. +Holt, kindling in her wrath. "I cannot hold myself without abusing +him." But it very soon did come to pass that Mr. Western's name was +not mentioned between them. Mrs. Holt would now and again clench her +fist and shake her head, and Cecilia knew that in her thoughts she +was executing some vengeance against Mr. Western; but there was a +truce to spoken words. Cecilia indeed often executed her vengeance +against her husband after some fashion of her own, but her mother did +not perceive it. + +Among their Exeter friends there soon came to be an actual breach +with Miss Altifiorla. Miss Altifiorla, as soon as it was known that +Mrs. Western had reappeared in Exeter, had rushed down to greet her +friend. There she had been received coldly by Cecilia, and more +than coldly by Cecilia's mother. "My dear Cecilia," she had said, +attempting to take hold of her friend's hand, "I told you what would +come of it." + +"There need be nothing said about it," said Mrs. Western. + +"Not after the first occasion," said Miss Altifiorla. "A few +words between us to show that each understands the other will be +expedient." + +"I do not see that any words can be of service," said Mrs. Western. + +"Not in the least," said Mrs. Holt. "Why need anything be said? You +know that she has been cruelly ill-used, and that is all you need +know." + +"I do know the whole history of it," said Miss Altifiorla, who had +taken great pride to herself among the people of Exeter in being the +best-informed person there as to Mrs. Western's sad affairs. "I was +present up to the moment, and I must say that if Cecilia had then +taken my advice things would have been very different. I am not +blaming her." + +"I should hope not," said Mrs. Holt. + +"But things would have been very different. Cecilia was a little +timid at telling her husband the truth. And Mr. Western was like +other gentlemen. He did not like to be kept in the dark by his wife. +You see that Cecilia has given mortal cause for offence to two +gentlemen." + +This was not to be endured. Cecilia did not exactly know all the +facts as they had occurred,--between Miss Altifiorla and Sir +Francis,--and certainly knew none of those which were now in process +of occurring; but she strongly suspected that something had taken +place, that some conversation had been held, between her friend and +Sir Francis Geraldine. She had been allowed to read the letter from +Sir Francis to her husband, and she remembered well the meaning of +it. But she could not remember the terms which he had used. She had, +however, thought that something which had passed between himself and +Miss Altifiorla had been the immediate cause of the writing of that +letter. She did think that Miss Altifiorla had, as it were, gone over +to the enemy. That she had been prepared to pardon. The enemy had +in fact told no falsehood in his letter. It had been her misfortune +that the story which he had told had been true;--and her further +misfortune that her husband should have believed so much more than +the truth. For all that she did not hold Miss Altifiorla to be +responsible. But when she was told that she had given cause for +mortal offence to two gentlemen, there was something in the phrase +which greatly aggravated her anger. It was as though this would-be +friend was turning against her for her conduct towards Sir Francis. +And she was just as angry that the friend should turn against her +for her conduct to her husband. "Miss Altifiorla," she said, "I must +request that there be no further conversation between us in reference +to the difference between me and my husband." + +"Miss Altifiorla!" said the lady. "Is it to come to that, +Cecilia;--between you and me who have enjoyed so much sweet +friendship?" + +"Certainly, if you make yourself so offensive," said Mrs. Holt. + +"It is the only mode by which I can show that I am in earnest," said +Cecilia. "If it does not succeed, I must declare that I shall be +unwilling to meet you at all. I told you to be silent, and you would +not." + +"Oh, very well! If you like to quarrel it will quite suit me. But in +your present condition I hardly think that you are wise in throwing +off your old friends. It is just the time when you ought to cling to +those who would be true to you." + +This was more than Cecilia could bear. "I shall cling to those who +are true to me," she said, leaving the room. + +"Oh, very well! Then I shall know how to conduct myself." This was +addressed to Mrs. Holt. + +"I hope you will conduct yourself, as you call it, somewhere away +from here. You're very fond of meddling, that's the truth; and +Cecilia in her present condition does not want to be meddled with. +Oh, yes; you can go away as soon as ever you please." Thereupon Miss +Altifiorla left the room and withdrew. + +It must be explained that this lady, since she was last upon the +scene, had learned to entertain new hopes, very exalted in their +nature. It had first occurred to her during those ten minutes at +the Paddington railway station, that it might possibly be so if she +played her cards well. And then how glorious would be the result! Sir +Francis Geraldine had squeezed her hand. If he might be made to go +on squeezing her hand sufficiently, how great might be the effect +produced! Lady Geraldine! How beautiful was the sound! She thought +that within all the bounds of the English peerage,--and she believed +that she knew that those bounds included the Baronets,--there was no +sweeter, no more glorious, no more aristocratic appellation. Lady +Geraldine! What a change, what a blissful change would that be! + +When she thought of the chill of her present life, of its want of +interest, of its insipid loneliness, and then told herself what might +be in store for her should she live to become Lady Geraldine, she +declared to herself that even though the chance might be very small, +the greatness of the reward if gained would justify the effort. Lady +Geraldine! And she saw no reason why her chance should be so very +small. She had a cousin with a pedigree longer than even that of Sir +Francis,--Count Altifiorla, who, indeed, had no money, but was a +genuine Count. She herself had a nice little sum of money, quite +enough to be agreeable to a gentleman who might be somewhat out at +elbows from the effects of Newmarket. And she did not think too +little of her own personal appearance. She knew that she had a good +wearing complexion, and that her features were of that sort which did +not yield very readily to the hand of time. There were none of the +endearing dimples of early youth, none of the special brightness +of English feminine loveliness, none of the fresh tints of sweet +girlhood; but Miss Altifiorla boasted to herself that she would look +the British aristocratic matron very well. She certainly had not that +Juno beauty which Cecilia Holt could boast, that beauty which could +be so severe to all chance comers, but which could melt at once and +become soft and sweet and easy to one favoured individual. Miss +Altifiorla acknowledged to herself that it was her nature always to +remain outwardly the same to all men. But then dress and diamonds, +and all the applied paraphernalia of aristocracy would, she felt, go +far with her. + +If Sir Francis could be once got to admire her, she was sure that +Sir Francis would never be driven to repent of his bargain from any +falling off on her part. She thought that she would know how to be +the master; but this would be an after consideration, and one as to +which she need not at present pay especial attention. Sir Francis +had squeezed her hand most affectionately, and there had been a +subsequent meeting at Exeter, where he had stayed a couple of hours +as he went through to his own property. And she was sure that he had +stayed for the purpose of meeting her. Since that affair with Cecilia +Holt he had not been made warmly welcome at the Deanery. Yet he had +stayed and had absolutely called upon Miss Altifiorla. He had found +her and had discussed Mr. and Mrs. Western with much sarcastic +humour. "Now you haven't!" Miss Altifiorla had said, when he told her +of the letter he had written. "How could you be so hard upon the poor +man?" "Perhaps the lady may think that I have been hard upon her," +Sir Francis had replied. "Perhaps she will know the meaning of tit +for tat. Perhaps she will understand now that one good turn deserves +another. It was not that I cared so much for her," he said. "I'd got +to feel that she was far too virtuous for me, too stuck up, you'll +understand. I wasn't at all disappointed when she played me that +trick. She didn't turn out the sort of girl that I had taken her for. +I knew that I had had an escape. But, nevertheless, tit for tat is +fair on both sides. She played me a trick, and now I've played her +one and we are even. We can each go to work again. She began a little +too soon, perhaps, for her own comfort; but that's her affair and not +mine." + +In answer to all this, Miss Altifiorla had only laughed and smiled +and declared that Cecilia had been served right, though she +thought,--she said that she thought,--that Sir Francis had been +almost too hard. "That's my way of doing business," he had added. "If +anyone wants me to run straight, they must begin by running straight +themselves. I can be as sweet as new milk if I'm well treated." Then +there had been a moment in which Miss Altifiorla had almost expected +that he was going to do something preparatory to declaring himself. +She was convinced that he was about to kiss her; but at the very +moment at which the event had been expected, Mrs. Green had been +announced and the kiss did not, alas, come off. She could hardly +bring herself to be civil to Mrs. Green when Sir Francis declared +that he must go to the station. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +"IT IS ALTOGETHER UNTRUE." + + +The month of September wore itself away at Exeter very sadly. An +attempt was made to bid Mrs. Western welcome back to her old home; +but from the nature of the circumstances there could hardly be much +heartiness in the attempt. Mrs. Thorne came over from Honiton to see +her, but even between Cecilia and Maude Hippesley, who was certainly +the most cherished of her Exeter friends, there could be no free +confidence, although there was much sympathy. Mrs. Western could +bring herself to speak evil to no one of her husband. She had, with +much passion, told the entire story to her mother, but when her +mother had begun to say hard words respecting him Cecilia had found +it impossible to bear them. Had her mother taken Mr. Western's +part, it may be doubted whether she could have endured that. There +was no speech concerning him which was possible for her ears. She +still looked forward to the chance of having him back again, and if +he would come back, if he would take her back, then he should be +entirely forgiven. He should be so forgiven that no mutual friend +should have heard a word of reproach from her lips. She herself would +know how hardly she had been used; but there should be no one to say +that she had ever been heard to complain of her husband. Not the less +was her heart full of wrath. Not the less did she during every hour +of the day turn over in her thoughts the terrible injustice of which +she had been the victim. But it can be understood that even to her +old friend Maude Hippesley, who was now happy in her new home as +Mrs. Thorne, she could not talk openly of the circumstances of her +separation. But there was, alas, no other subject of such interest to +her at the present moment as to give matter for free conversation. + +The Dean's family, and especially Mrs. Hippesley, attempted to be +kind to her. The Dean himself came down and called with much decanal +grandeur, conspicuous as he walked up to the Hall door with shovel +hat and knee breeches. But even the Dean could not do much. He had +intended to take Mrs. Western's part as against his brother-in-law, +having been no doubt prompted by some old feeling of favour towards +Cecilia Holt; but now he was given to understand that this Mr. +Western had also gone astray, and in such a way as to make it hardly +possible that he should talk about it. He called therefore and took +her by the hand, and expressed a hope that all things should be made +to go straight, and then he left her, taking her by the hand again, +and endeavouring to prove his esteem by his manner of doing so. +That was the beginning and the end of the Dean's comforting. Mrs. +Hippesley could do but little more. She did make an attempt at +confidential conversation, but was soon stopped by Cecilia's cold +manner. Mrs. Western, indeed, could speak to none. She could not +utter a word either for or against her husband. Mrs. Green came, of +course, more than once; but it was the same thing. Mrs. Western could +endure to talk and to be talked to about nothing. And though there +was friendship in it, it was but a subdued feeling of friendship,--of +friendship which under the circumstances had to be made silent. Mrs. +Green when she had taken her leave determined not to come again +immediately, and Mrs. Western when Mrs. Green had gone felt that she +did not wish her to come. She could live with her mother more easily +than with her old friends, because her mother understood the tone of +her mind. Each kept their thoughts to themselves on that subject of +which each was thinking; but each sympathised with the other. + +Lady Grant as soon as she understood the condition of things at once +began to correspond with her brother. To her it was a matter of +course that he should, sooner or later, take his wife back again. But +to her thinking it was most important that he should do so before +the fact of their quarrel had been flaunted before the world by an +enduring separation. She wrote in the first instance without throwing +blame upon either party, but calling upon her brother to show the +honesty and honour of his purpose by coming back at once to Durton +Lodge, and receiving Cecilia. "Of course it must be so sooner or +later," said Lady Grant, "and the quicker you do it so much easier +will be the doing." It should be told that Mrs. Holt had, without +telling her daughter in her passion, herself written to Mr. Western. +"You have sacrificed my daughter in your perversity, and that without +the slightest cause for blame." Such had been the nature of Mrs. +Holt's letter, which had reached him but a day before that of his +sister. Lady Grant's appeal had not been of the same nature. She had +said nothing of the sin of either of them; but had written as though +both had been in fault, misunderstanding each other, and neither +having been willing to yield a little. Then she had appealed to +her brother's love and affectionate disposition. It was not till +afterwards that she had been able to inform him of the baby that was +expected. + +Mr. Western answered his sister's letter from Dresden. To Mrs. Holt +he sent no reply: but he used her letter as the ground for that which +he made to Lady Grant, writing as though Mrs. Holt's words had come +directly from his wife. "They say that I have sacrificed Cecilia +without the slightest fault on her part. I have not sacrificed her, +and there has been terrible fault on her part. Fault! A young woman +marries a man while she is yet engaged to another, and tells the +poor dupe whom she has got within her clutches nothing of her first +engagement! Is there no fault in that? And she afterwards entertains +the first man at her husband's house, and corresponds with him, and +prepares at last to receive him there as a friend, and that without a +word on the subject spoken to her husband! Is there no fault in that? +And at last the truth becomes known to him because the base man is +discontented with the arrangements that have been made, and chooses +to punish her by exposing her at last to the wrath of her husband! I +say nothing of him. With his conduct in the world I have no concern. +But can all that have taken place with no fault on her part? What in +such a state of things should I have done? Should I have contented +myself simply with forbidding my wife to receive the man at my house? +Should I have asked her no question as to the past? Should I have +passed over that engagement which had been in full existence during +the last twelve months, and have said nothing of it? Or should I have +expressed my anger and then have forgiven her, and attempted to live +with her as though this man had never existed? Knowing me as you do, +can you say that that would have been possible to me? How could I +have lived with a wife of whom I knew so much as I had then learned +of mine,--but had known so little before. Had I been a man of the +world, living for the world, careless as to my own home except as to +the excellence of my dinner and the comfort of my bed, it might have +been possible. A man trusting for his happiness to such means might +perhaps have continued to exist and not have been broken-hearted. But +I think you will understand that such could not be the case with me. +I looked for my happiness to my wife's society, and I discovered when +I had married that I could not find it there. I could never respect +her! + +"But she tells me that having married her I have no right to +sacrifice her. As I had been fool enough to allow myself to be so +quickly allured by her charms, and had made those charms my own, I +was bound to stand by my bargain! That I take it is the argument +which she uses. I grant the truth of it. It is I that should be +sacrificed and not she. I have so acted that I am bound to submit +myself to such a verdict. What the law would require from me I cannot +say. The law might perhaps demand a third of my income. She shall +have two-thirds if she wishes it. She shall have seven-eighths if she +will ask for it. At present I have given instructions by which during +her life she shall have one-half. I am aware that in the heat of her +passion she has declined to accept this. It shall nevertheless be +paid to her credit. And I must deny that one who has achieved her +marriage after such a fashion has any right, when so treated, to +regard herself as sacrificed. I am the victim. But as I am convinced +that she and I cannot live happily together, I reserve to myself the +right of living apart." + +Lady Grant, when she received this letter, immediately sat down to +write to Cecilia, but she soon found it to be impossible to put +into a letter all that there was to be said. She was living in the +neighbourhood of Perth, whereas her sister-in-law was at Exeter. +And yet the matter was of such moment that she perceived it to be +essential that they should see each other. Perhaps it might be better +that Mrs. Western should come to her; and therefore she wrote to +her,--not explaining the cause of the proposed visit, to do which +would be as difficult as to write the full letter, but simply saying +that in the present condition of things she thought it would be well +that Cecilia should visit her. This however Mrs. Western refused to +do. She had come to her mother, she said, in her terrible difficulty, +and in her present circumstances would not at once leave her. She +considered herself bound to obey her husband, and would remain at +Exeter until she received instructions from him to leave it. + +There was in her letter a subdued tone of displeasure, which Lady +Grant felt that she had not deserved. She at any rate was anxious to +do her best. But she would not on that account abandon the task which +she had undertaken. Her only doubt was whether she had better go +to her brother at Berlin or to his wife at Exeter. She understood +perfectly now the nature of those mistaken suspicions which filled +her brother's mind. And she was almost sure of the circumstances +which had produced them. But she was not quite sure; and were she to +make mistakes in discussing the matter with him, such mistakes might +be fatal. She thought that with Cecilia she could not do other than +good. She knew her brother's mind better than did his wife, and she +imagined that between them such a story might be told,--a story so +true and so convincing that the husband might be brought back. + +The following very short letter therefore was written. "My dear +Cecilia, as you will not come to me at Perth, I must go to you at +Exeter. I shall start this day week and will be with you on the +following Wednesday. Do not mind as to a room for me, as I can stop +at the hotel; but it is I think imperative that we should see each +other. Yours affectionately, Bertha Grant." + +"Mamma, Lady Grant is coming here next week," said Cecilia to her +mother. + +"To this house next week?" + +"She says that she will come to the hotel; but of course we must +receive her here." + +"But why is she coming?" + +"I suppose it is because she thinks that something should be done on +behalf of her brother. I can understand her feeling, and am sure that +she sympathises with me. But I do not think that any good will come +of it. Unless he can be made to see how wrong he is nothing will be +able to change him. And until his very nature is changed he will +not be made to understand his own fault." It was thus for the first +time for a fortnight that Mrs. Western spoke to her mother about her +husband. + +At the day appointed Lady Grant came and Mrs. Western met her at the +station. "Of course you will not go to the hotel," she said; "there +is plenty of room at the house. I am greatly obliged to you for +coming. It seems a dreadful thing to have to come on such a business +all the way from Perth. I know that I ought to apologise to you for +the trouble." + +"Apologise! There can be no apologising between you and me. If I can +make each of you understand the truth there is not I think any doubt +but that you will be brought together." + +"If he can be made to see the truth, it may be so. I do not know that +there is any seeing of the truth necessary on the other side. I have +complained of nothing. He has taken upon himself to leave me for some +cause as to which I am perfectly in the dark. However we will not +talk about it now." Then she put Lady Grant into the fly and took her +home. + +There was nothing more said about it on that day. Mrs. Western, in +whose bosom something of her feeling of anger against her husband was +most unjustly extended towards Lady Grant, took care that they two +should not be at once left together again. Mrs. Holt was studiously +civil, but always with a feeling that Mr. Western and Lady Grant were +brother and sister. It was probable that the sister would take her +brother's part and consequently be at any moment converted into an +enemy. The first evening at Exeter was passed very uncomfortably +by the three ladies. But on the following morning a conference was +demanded. "My dear," said Lady Grant, "we have got to discuss all +this and we may as well do it at once. What does your husband mean +when he says that you were still engaged to Sir Francis when you +became engaged to him?" + +"Has he said so?" + +"Yes; indeed." + +"Then he has said what is altogether untrue. Nor is there the +slightest ground for such an untruth. Everything between me and Sir +Francis Geraldine was over before we had gone to the Continent. Why; +I left England in consequence of the shock it gave me to have to +abandon him. Does he know,--does your brother know what I told you?" + +"He did not know it when he wrote to me." + +"I suppose not. I should think he would send some message. As a +rule he is soft-hearted, although to me he has become suddenly so +inexpressibly cruel." + +"But you understand now the cause of his displeasure?" + +"Not in the least," said the angry wife. "I know of no cause for his +displeasure. Displeasure! I know of no cause to justify a step so +terrible as this." + +"Though the statement may be untrue as you say--" + +"It is untrue. It is altogether untrue." + +"But he has believed it!" + +"Why has he believed it? Why; why?" + +"Ah indeed; why?" said Lady Grant. "I suppose that no lie becomes +prevalent in the world for evil without some fault on the part of +somebody. Even though it may not have been expressed in exact terms, +some false person has intentionally spread it abroad. And then a man +in his wrath, when he hears the lie will distort it, and twist it, +and aggravate it,--to his own wrong and to that of others." + +"But my own husband! Him whom I so passionately loved!" + +"And who so passionately loved you! It was because of that that the +lie has so rankled! And, Cecilia, dear, let us be altogether open to +each other." + +"I have concealed nothing from you," said Mrs. Western proudly. + +"Nor wilfully from him. But you had kept from him a detail of your +past life,--of your life not long since past, which, as you yourself +felt, ought to have been made known to him." + +"It would have been made known to him." + +"Just so. But unfortunately he was first allowed to hear it from +another quarter. How it was told from thence you and I do not know." + +"I saw the letter to him from Sir Francis Geraldine. There was no +such statement in it as that you have now made. The tone of the +letter was ungentlemanlike and abominable; but the facts as declared +were true." + +"Do you believe then that he has invented this falsehood against you, +to excuse himself?" + +"No," said the deserted wife; "I do not think he invented it." + +"Nor I. How was it then that the idea has made its way into his +brain?" + +"He is suspicious," said Mrs. Western, speaking very slowly. + +"Yes; he is suspicious. It is the fault of his character. But he is +true and honest, and affectionate, and is by no means exacting or +self-seeking. You have no right to expect that your husband should be +perfect;--nor has he a right to expect it of you. He had no idea of +this engagement till it was told by him who of all men was bound not +to tell him." + +The conversation was carried on after this for a considerable time, +but was left chiefly in the hands of Lady Grant. Two or three times +Mrs. Western put in a word, but it was always to ask what might be +the effect upon him when he should have learned the tidings which she +had sent him. Lady Grant seemed to think that he would of course come +back and again take his wife to his bosom, as soon as he should be +made to understand all the exact facts as to her intercourse with Sir +Francis Geraldine and as to her quarrel with him. But poor Cecilia +seemed to believe more in the coming of the little stranger. "He can +reject me," she once said, with mingled bitterness and hope, "but I +cannot believe that such as he should reject his own child." + +But neither then nor on the following day, which was the last that +Lady Grant allowed herself at Exeter, could she be induced to send to +her husband a single word asking his pardon. "No," she said, holding +her head aloft as she spoke; "it is for me to pardon him. If he wants +my pardon he shall have it. He need not ask for it, but if he comes +he shall have it." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +MISS ALTIFIORLA RISES IN THE WORLD. + + +During this time a correspondence, more or less regular, was +maintained between Miss Altifiorla and Sir Francis Geraldine. Sir +Francis had gone to Scotland for the shooting, and rather liked the +interest of Miss Altifiorla's letters. It must be understood that it +had commenced with the lady rather than the gentleman. But that was a +fact of which he was hardly aware. She had written him a short note +in answer to some questions he had asked respecting Mrs. Western when +he had been in Exeter, and this she had done in such a manner as to +make sure of the coming of a further letter. The further letter had +come and thus the correspondence had been commenced. It was no doubt +chiefly in regard to Mrs. Western; or at first pretended to be so. +Miss Altifiorla thought it right to speak always of her old friend +with affectionate kindness;--but still with considerable severity. +The affectionate kindness might go for what it was worth; but it was +the severity, or rather the sarcasm, which gratified Sir Francis. And +then Miss Altifiorla gradually adopted a familiar strain into which +Sir Francis fell readily enough. In fact Sir Francis found that a +young woman who would joke with him, and appear to follow his lead in +her joking, was more to his taste than an austere beauty such as had +been his last love. + +"Lady Grant is here at this moment," Miss Altifiorla said in one of +her letters. She had by this time fallen into that familiar style of +writing which hardly declared whether it belonged to a man's letter +or a woman's. "I suppose you know who Lady Grant is. She is your +fortunate rival's magnificent widowed sister, and has come here I +presume to endeavour to set matters right. Whether she will succeed +may be doubtful. She is the exact ditto of her brother, who of all +human beings gives himself the finest airs. But Cecilia since her +separation has given herself airs too, and now leads her lonely +life with her nose high among the stars. Poor dear Cecilia! her +misfortunes do not become her, and I think they have hardly been +deserved. They are all the result of your bitter vengeance, and +though I must say that she in sort deserves it, I think that you +might have spared her. After all she has done you no harm. Consider +where you would be with Cecilia Holt for your wife and guardian. +Hard though you are, I do not think you would have been hard enough +to treat her as he has done. Indeed there is an audacity about his +conduct to which I know no parallel. Fancy a man marrying a wife and +then instantly bidding her go home to her mother because he finds +that she once liked another man better than himself! I wonder whether +the law couldn't touch him! But you have escaped from all that, and +I really can't understand why you should be so awfully cruel to the +poor girl." Then she signed herself "Yours always, F. A." as though +she had not been a woman at all. + +In all this there was much guile. She had already taken the length +of his foot, and knew how to flatter him, and to cheat him at the +same time. "That poor young woman of mine seems to have got into +difficulties," he said to Dick Ross, who had gone down with him to +Scotland. + +"You have made the difficulties for her," said Dick. + +"Well; I paved the way perhaps. That was only justice. Did she +think that she was going to hit me and that she wasn't to be hit in +return?" + +"A woman," growled Dick. + +"Women are human beings the same as men, and when they make +themselves beasts have got to be punished. You can't horsewhip a +woman; but if you look at it all round I don't see that she ought to +get off so much better than a man. She is a human creature and ought +to be made to feel as a man feels." + +But this did not suit Dick's morality or his sense of chivalry. +According to his thinking a woman in such matters ought to be allowed +to do as she pleased, and the punishment, if punishment there is to +be, must come from the outside. "I shouldn't like to have done it; +that's all." + +"You've always treated women well; haven't you?" + +"I don't say that. I don't know that I've ever treated anybody +particularly well. But I never set my wits to work to take my revenge +on a woman." + +"Look here, old fellow," said Sir Francis. "You had better contrive +to make yourself less disagreeable or else you and I must part. If +you think that I am going to be lectured by you, you're mistaken." + +"You ask me, and how can I help answering you? It was a shabby trick. +And now you may bluster as much as you please." Then the two sat +together, smoking in silence for five minutes. It was after breakfast +on a rainy day, such as always made Dick Ross miserable for the time. +He had to think of creditors whom he could not pay, and of his future +life which did not lie easily open before him, and of all the years +which he had misused. Circumstances had lately thrown him much into +the power of this man whom he heartily disliked and despised, but at +whose hands he had been willing to accept many of the luxuries of his +life. But still he resolved not to be put down in the expression of +his opinions, although he might in truth be turned off at a moment's +notice. "You are corresponding with that old woman now?" + +"What do you know about my correspondence?" + +"I know just what you told me. That letter there is from the lady +with the Italian name. She has more mischief even than you have, I +believe." At hearing this Sir Francis only laughed. "If you don't +take care she'll make you marry her, and then where will you be?" + +"Where would you be, old fellow?" + +"It don't much matter where I should be," said poor Dick. "There's +a revolver up-stairs and I sometimes think that I had better use +it. I've nothing but myself to look after. I've no baronetcy and no +estate, and can destroy none but myself. You can't hurt me very much. +I'll tell you what it is, Geraldine. You want a wife so that you may +cut out your cousin from the property. You're a good-looking fellow +and you can talk, and, as chance would have it, you had, I imagine, +got hold of a true lady. But she found you out." + +"What did she find out?" + +"The sort of fellow that you are. She met you among the Dean's +people, and had to find you out before she knew you. However she did +before it was too late, and she gave you the sack." + +"That's your idea." + +"She did," said Dick boldly. "And there should have been an end of +it. I don't say but what it might have been as well for you as for +her. But it suited you to have your revenge, and you've had it." + +"I rather think I have," said Sir Francis. + +"But you've got a woman to help you in getting it who seems to have +been as spiteful as you, without any excuse. I shouldn't think that +she'd make a good wife. But if you don't take care she'll be yours." +Then Dick got up and walked out of the room with his pipe in his +mouth, and went into his bedroom, thinking that it might be as well +for him to pack up and take his departure. The quarters they were in +were, as he declared to himself, "beastly" in wet weather; but his +shirts hadn't come from the wash, and he had no vehicle to take him +to the railway station without sending for a fly. And after all what +he had said to Sir Francis was not much worse than what had often +been said before. So he chucked off his slippers, and threw himself +upon the bed, thinking that he might as well endeavour to get through +the morning by going to sleep. + +Sir Francis when he found himself alone began to think over all the +circumstances of his present position. Among those circumstances +Dick Ross was one. When he had intended to marry Miss Holt he had +determined to get rid of Dick. Indeed Dick had been got rid of +partially, and had begun to talk of going to Canada or the Cannibal +Islands, by way of beginning the work of his life. Then Sir Francis +had been jilted, and Dick had again become indispensable to him. But +Dick had ever had a nasty way of speaking his mind and blowing up his +patron, which sometimes became very oppressive to the Baronet. And +now at the present moment he was more angry with him for what he had +said as to Miss Altifiorla than for his remarks as to his conduct to +the other lady. All that was simply severe in Dick's words he took +for a compliment. If Dick found fault with his practice he at any +rate acknowledged his success. But his remarks as to the second lady +had been very uncourteous. He had declared that she with the Italian +name was a worse devil even than himself, and had warned him not +to marry the fiend. Now he had nearly made up his mind that he +would marry her. With all the ladies with whom he had hitherto been +connected he had become aware that, in marrying them, he must more +or less alter his manner of life. With Miss Altifiorla no such +alteration would be necessary. He attributed a certain ease which she +possessed to her Italian blood, and thought that he would be able +to get on with her very comfortably. To marry was imperative with +him,--because of his cousin. But he thought that were he to marry +Miss Altifiorla he might continue to live his ordinary life almost +without interruption. He had considered that in doing so he need not +even dismiss Dick Ross. But now, in consequence partly of the great +discourtesy of Dick's remarks and partly from his strong inclination +for Miss Altifiorla, he began to think that after all Dick had better +go. Just at this moment Dick's fortunes were, he knew, very low. One +sum of money had been lost at cards, and another sum of money had not +come. Dick's funds were almost absolutely worn out. But that was only +a reason the more for parting with him. He did not care to have to +deal with a man who had to wear out his old clothes in his house +because he had not credit with his tailor to get a new coat and +trousers. He thought that he would part with Dick; but he had not +quite made up his mind when he sat down to write his letter to Miss +Altifiorla. + +"My dear Miss Altifiorla," he said. "I really don't see that you +have any reason to blow me up as you do about 'poor Cecilia.' I do +not think that poor Cecilia has had it at all hotter than she has +deserved; and when you tell me that I have been awfully cruel to the +poor girl, you seem to forget that the poor girl began the war by +being awfully cruel to me. If you and I should ever come to know +each other, you may be sure that I shall never treat any woman well +because she has treated me badly. It's a kind of gallantry I cannot +understand, and must make a man's conduct quite indifferent to +the sex generally. If you're to treat all alike, whether they run +straight or bolt, why shouldn't they all bolt? It would come to +the same thing in the end. There is Dick Ross been making himself +uncommonly disagreeable on the same subject. I don't mind your +lecturing me a little,--chiefly because you don't think it; but I'll +be hanged if I take it from him. He has not done so very well himself +that he is entitled to blow up anyone. + +"Mind you write and tell me what happens over at St. David's." (Mrs. +Holt lived in Exeter at St. David's.) "I shall be glad to know +whether that respectable person, Mr. Western, comes back again. I +don't think she'll have a good time if he does, and if he don't I +sha'n't break my heart." Then he put his pen down and sat for a while +thinking what should be his last paragraph. Should he put an end to +all his doubts and straightway make his offer, or should he dally a +little longer and still keep the power in his own hands? At last he +said to himself that even if he wrote it his letter would not go till +to-morrow morning, and he would have the night to think about it. +This consideration got the better of his prudence and he did write +it, simply beginning a new sentence on the page. "Don't you think +that you and I know each other well enough to make a match of it? +There is a question for you to answer on your own behalf, instead of +blowing me up for any cruelty to Cecilia Holt." + +Then he signed his name, "Yours ever, F. G." + +Miss Altifiorla when she received the letter was surprised, but not +startled. She had expected that it would come, but not so quickly; +and it may be said of her that she had quite made up her mind as to +the final answer to be given if it should come. But still she had to +think much about it before she wrote her reply. It might be very well +for him to be sudden, but any over-suddenness on her part would put +him on his guard. If he should be made to feel alarmed at what he had +done, if he should be once frightened at his own impetuousness and +hers, he would soon find his way back again out of the difficulty. +But still she must flatter him, still she must make him think that +she loved him. It would not at all do for her to write as though the +thing were impossible. Then in a pleasant reverie she gave herself +up for a while to meditating over the sudden change which had come +upon her views of life. She remembered how strong she had been +in recommending Cecilia not to marry this man, and how she had +congratulated her when she found that she had escaped. And she +remembered the severe things she had said about Mr. Western. But in +her thoughts there was nothing of remorse or even of regret. "Well, +well; that it should have come to this! That he should have escaped +from Cecilia and have chosen me! Upon the whole it will be much +better for him. I shall tread on his corns less than she would, and +be less trodden upon, too, than she. It may be that I must tread on +his corns a little, but I will not begin till after my marriage." +Such was the nature of her thoughts. Perhaps an idea did creep in +as to some awkwardness when she should meet Cecilia. But they could +never see much of each other, and it might be that there would be no +such meeting. "What does it matter?" she said, as she turned to her +writing-table. + +But this was not till three days had passed after the receipt of the +proposal. Three days, she thought, was a fitting time to show that, +though hurried by an affair of so much moment, she was not too much +hurried. And then she wrote as follows:-- + + + MY DEAR SIR FRANCIS, + + Your letter has almost taken away my breath. Why, you know nothing + or little about me! And since we have been acquainted with each other + our conversation has chiefly been about another lady to whom you were + engaged to be married. Now you ask me to be your wife; at least, if I + understand your letter, that is its purport. If I am wrong, of course + you will tell me so. + + But of course I know that I am not wrong; and of course I am + flattered, and of course pleased. What I have seen of you I have + altogether liked, and I do not know why we should not be happy + together. But, marriage! marriage is a most important step,--as, no + doubt, you are well aware. Though I am quite earnest in what I am + saying, still I cannot but smile, and can fancy that you are smiling, + as though after all it were but a joke. However, give me but one week + to think of it all, and then I will answer you in sober earnest. + + Yours ever (as you sign yourself), + + F. A. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +A MAN'S PRIDE. + + +About a week after Lady Grant had gone, Mrs. Western received a +letter from her husband. She had expected that he would write, +and had daily looked for the letter. But when it did come she did +not know whether to take it as a joy or a source of additional +discomfort. There was in it hardly a word of declared affection. +Nothing was said as to his future life or hers; but he did write, as +she thought, in a familiar and loving strain as to the event which +had yet to be expected for many months. "My sister has told me your +news," he said, "and I cannot but let you know how anxious I shall +be both for your safety and for that of the stranger. If there be +anything that I can do for your comfort, if you will ask me, you may +be sure that it will be done. I am still at Dresden, and have no idea +of immediately returning to England." There was no commencement to +this, nor any ending. He did not even sign his name, nor call her his +wife, or his dear Cecilia. Upon the whole she felt that it rather +confirmed her sentence of banishment than gave her reason for hope. +He had felt when he wrote it that he could not remain altogether +silent, but had yet determined to awaken no hopes by an assurance of +his returning love. "In fact, the letter," she said to her mother, +"must be taken as meaning nothing. He did not choose to subject +himself to the charge of having been indifferent to the coming of +such an event. But beyond this he had nothing to say to me." Poor +Mrs. Holt remained altogether silent when her daughter discussed the +subject. She knew that she could not speak without loud abuse, and +she knew also that her daughter would not allow her to abuse him. + +Cecilia, without asking the advice of anyone, resolved that she would +not answer the letter. She could not write without using affectionate +language, and such words should never come from her till she had +first been addressed with full affection by him. "Never," she had +said to herself a score of times; "never!" The meaning of this +had been that having been so cruelly ill-used she would do and +say nothing that might be taken as evidence that she had thought +herself in the wrong. She would bear it all rather than give him to +understand that she did not appreciate his cruelty. She had told him +of her love, and he had not vouchsafed to say a word to her in reply. +It was of the injustice done to her that she complained in the words +which she was constantly framing for herself; but it was the apparent +want of affection which was deepest in her heart. Though he had been +twice as cruel, twice as hard, she would have been less unhappy had +she succeeded in drawing from him one word of affection. "What can he +do for my comfort?" she said to herself again and again. "He means +that if I want money I shall have it, so that he may avoid the +disgrace of leaving his wife and his child unprovided for. I will +not have his money, unless he also come himself." She would not even +write to Lady Grant, or let her know that she had received a letter +from her husband. "Oh, yes; I have heard from him. There is his +letter," and she flung the document across the table to her mother. +Having done so she at once left the room, so that there should be no +discussion on the matter. "That there should be not a word of love in +it; not a single word," she went on saying to herself. "How hard must +be a man's heart, and how changeable! He certainly did love me, and +now it has all gone, simply through an unworthy suspicion on his own +part." + +But here she showed how little able she had been as yet to read the +riddle of a man's heart,--how ignorant she had been of the difficulty +under which a man may labour to express his own feeling! That +which we call reticence is more frequently an inability than an +unwillingness to express itself. The man is silent, not because he +would not have the words spoken, but because he does not know the +fitting words with which to speak. His dignity and his so-called +manliness are always near to him, and are guarded, so that he should +not melt into open ruth. So it was with Mr. Western. Living there +all alone at Dresden, seeing no society, passing much of his time +in a vain attempt to satisfy himself with music and with pictures, +he spent all his hours in thinking how necessary his wife had made +herself to his comfort during the few months that they were married. +He had already taught himself to endeavour to make excuses for +her,--though in doing so he always fell back at last on the enormity +of her offence. Though he loved her, though he might probably pardon +her in his weakness, it was impossible that the sin should be washed +out. His anger still burned very hotly, because he could not quite +understand the manner in which the sin had been committed. There was +a secret, and he did not know the nature of the secret. There had +been an understanding, of which he did not even yet know the nature, +between his wife and that base baronet. And then the terrible truth +of his memory added to his wounds. He thought of all the words +that had been spoken, and which he felt ought to have given her an +opportunity of telling the truth,--and would have done so had she not +purposely kept the secret. He had playfully asked her how it had been +that she had loved no other man, and then she had remained silent in +a manner which he now declared to himself to be equal to a falsehood. +And when he had been perfectly free with his own story, she had still +kept back hers. She had had her story, and had resolved that he +should not know it, even though he had been so open with his. He no +doubt had been open at a time when he had no right to expect her to +be equally so; but when the time did come then, then she had been a +traitor to him. When accepting his caresses, and returning them with +all a young wife's ardour, even at that moment she had been a traitor +to him. Though in his arms she had thought,--she must have continued +to think,--of some unholy compact which existed between her and Sir +Francis Geraldine. And even now she had not told him the nature of +that compact. Even now she might be corresponding with Sir Francis +or seeing him for aught that he knew to the contrary. How was it +possible that he should pardon a wife who had sinned against him as +she had sinned? + +And yet he was so far aware of his own weakness, as to admit to +himself that he would have taken her back to him if she had answered +his last letter in a contrite spirit and with affectionate words. +He would have endeavoured to forgive if not to forget, and would +have allowed himself to fall into the loving intimacy of domestic +life,--but that she was cold and indifferent, as well as treacherous. +So he told himself, keeping his wrath hot, though at the same time +his love nearly mastered him. But in truth he knew nothing of things +as they really were. He had made the mistake of drawing a false +conclusion from some words written by Sir Francis, and then of +looking upon those words as containing the whole truth. Sir Francis +had no doubt intended him to think that he and Cecilia Holt had come +to some rupture in their engagement from other than the real cause. +He had intended Mr. Western to believe that they had both agreed, and +that they had merely resolved between them that they had better not +be husband and wife. He had intended to convey the idea that he had +been more active in so arranging it than Cecilia herself. Cecilia +though she had read the letter had done so in such a frame of mind +as hardly to catch the truth. But he, Mr. Western, had caught it +altogether, and had believed it. Though he knew that the man was a +dishonest liar yet he had believed the letter. He was tortured at +the thought that his wife should have made herself a party to such a +compact, and that the compact should still have remained in existence +without his knowledge. Although there were hours during which he was +most anxious to return to her,--in which he told himself that it +was more difficult to stay away from her than even to endure her +faithlessness; though from day to day he became convinced that he +could never return to the haunts of men or even to the easy endurance +of life without her, yet his pride would ever come back to him and +assure him that as a reasonable man he was unable to put up with +such treachery. He had unfortunately been taught to think, by the +correspondence which had come from the matter of his cousin's racing +bet, that Sir Francis Geraldine was the very basest of mankind. It +was unfortunate because he had no doubt been induced to think worse +of his wife because she had submitted herself and continued to submit +herself to a man who was in his eyes so contemptible. He could not +endure the idea that a woman for whom such a partnership had had +charms should be the chosen companion of all his hours. He had +already lived with her for weeks which should have been enough to +teach him her character. During those weeks he had been satisfied +to the very full. He had assured himself frequently that he had at +last met a woman that suited him and made her his own. Had he known +nothing of Sir Francis Geraldine he would have been thoroughly +contented. Then had come the blow, and all his joys were "sicklied +over" with the unhealthy tone which his image of her former lover +gave him. She became at once to him a different creature. Though he +told himself that she was still the same Cecilia as had been his +delight, yet he told himself also that she was not the same as he had +fancied her when he at first knew her. + +There is in a man a pride of which a woman knows nothing. Or rather a +woman is often subject to pride the very opposite. The man delights +to think that he has been the first to reach the woman's heart. The +woman is rejoiced to feel that she owns permanently that which has +been often reached before. The man may know that in his own case it +is not so with him. But as there has been no concealment, or perhaps +only a little to conceal, he takes it as it comes and makes the best +of it. His Mary may have liked some other one, but it has not gone +farther. Or if she has been engaged as a bride there has been no +secret about it. Or it has been a thing long ago so that there has +been time for new ideas to form themselves. The husband when he does +come knows at any rate that he has no ground of complaint, and is not +kept specially in the dark when he takes his wife. But Mr. Western +had been kept specially in the dark, and was of all men the least +able to endure such treatment. To have been kept in the dark as to +the man with whom the girl was engaged, as he thought, at the very +moment in which she had accepted him! To have been made use of as a +step, on which a disadvantageous marriage might be avoided without +detriment to her own interest! It was this feeling which made him +utterly prostrate,--which told him that death itself would be the one +desirable way out of his difficulties if death were within his reach. + +When he received the letter from his sister telling him that he might +probably become the father of a child, he was at the first prepared +to say that thus would they two be reconciled. He could hardly live +apart, not only from the mother of his child, but from the child +itself. He went away into solitude and wept hot tears as he thought +of it all. But ever as he thought of it the cause of his anger came +back to him and made him declare to himself that in the indulgence +of no feeling of personal tenderness ought he to disgrace himself. +At any rate it could not be till she should have told him the whole +truth,--till she should have so told her story as to enable him to +ascertain whether that story were in all respects true. At present, +as he said to himself, he was altogether in the dark. But in fact +had he now learned the very story as it had existed, and had Cecilia +told it as far as she was able to tell it all, she would even in +his estimation have been completely white-washed. In her perfect +absolution from the terrible sin of which he now accused her he would +have forgiven and forgotten altogether the small, the trifling fault, +which she had in truth committed. + +There was something of nobility in all these feelings;--but then that +something was alloyed by much that was ignoble. He had resolved that +were she to come back to him she must come acknowledging the depth of +her sin. He would endeavour to forgive though he could not forget; +but he never thought to himself in these hours that it would be well +for him to be gracious in his manner of forgiveness. To go to her and +fetch her home to him, and say to her that all that was past should +be as a dream, a sad and ugly dream, but one to which no reality was +attached, never occurred to him. He must still be the master, and, in +order that his masterdom might be assured, full and abject confession +must be made. Yet he had such an idea of his wife, that he felt that +no such confession would be forthcoming, and therefore to him it +appeared ever more and more impossible that they two should again +come together. + +With Cecilia the matter was regarded with very different eyes. To +her, too, it was apparent that she had been treated with extremest +cruelty. She, too, was very hot in her anger. In discussing +the matter with herself, she allowed herself thoughts in which +indignation against her husband was maintained at a boiling heat. But +nevertheless she had quite resolved to forgive him altogether if he +would once come to her. And to insure her forgiveness no word even +of apology should be necessary. She knew that she would have to deal +with a man to whom the speaking of such words would be painful, and +none should be expected, none asked for. If he would but show her +that he still loved her, that should suffice. The world around them +would of course know that she had been sent away from him, and then +taken back. There was in this much that was painful,--a feeling +full of dismay as she reflected that all her friends, that her +acquaintance, that the very servants should know that she had been so +disgraced. But of all that she would take no notice,--no notice as +far as the outside world was concerned. Let them think, let them talk +as they would, she would then have her one great treasure with which +to console herself, and that treasure, if once more her own, would +suffice for her happiness. In her hottest anger she told herself from +time to time that her anger would all depart from her,--that it would +be made to vanish from her as by a magician's wand,--if she could +only once more be allowed to feel his arm round her waist. + +In all this she had no friend with whom to discuss either her anger +or her hopes. Her mother she knew shared her anger to the full, but +entertained hopes altogether different. Her desires were so different +that they hardly amounted to hopes. Yes, he might be allowed to +return, but with words of absolute contrition, with words which +should always be remembered against him. Such would have been Mrs. +Holt's expression as to the state of things had she ventured to +express herself. But she understood enough of her daughter's feelings +to repress them. + +The only person who sympathised with Cecilia and her present +condition was the girl who had once before evoked from her so +strong a feeling of tenderness. She did know that the man had to be +forgiven, terrible as had been his sin, and that nothing more was to +be said about it. "Oh, ma'am," she said, "he'll come back now! I'm +sure he'll come back now, and never more have any of them silly +vagaries." + +"Who can say what vagaries a man may choose to indulge?" + +"That's true too, ma'am. That any man should have had such a vagary +as this! But he's dying to come back. I'm sure of it. And when he +does come and finds that he's let to come quiet, and that he's asked +to say nothing as he don't like, and that you are all smiles to him +and kindness,--and then with the baby coming and all,--my belief is +that he'll be happier then than he was even the first day when he had +you." This, though spoken in rough language, so exactly expressed +Cecilia's wishes, that she did feel that her maid at least entirely +sympathised with her. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +DICK TAKES HIS FINAL LEAVE. + + +When Sir Francis received the reply which Miss Altifiorla sent to his +letter, he was not altogether satisfied with it. He had expected that +the lady would at once have flown into his arms. But the lady seemed +to hesitate, and asked for a week to think about it. This showed +so much ingratitude on her part,--was so poor an acknowledgment of +the position which he had offered her, that he was inclined to be +indignant. "D---- it; if she don't care about it she sha'n't have +it." It was thus that he expressed himself aloud in the hearing of +Dick Ross; but without however explaining who the she was, or what +the it was, or indeed in any way asking Dick's opinion on the matter. +Not the less had Miss Altifiorla been wise in the nature of the +reply which she had given. Had she expressed her warm affection, and +at once accepted all that had been proffered, the gentleman would +probably have learnt at once to despise that which had been obtained +so easily. As it was he was simply cross, and thought that he had +determined to withdraw the proposal. But still the other letter was +to come, and Miss Altifiorla's chance was still open to her. + +The immediate consequence of these doubts in the mind of Sir Francis +was a postponement of the verdict of banishment which he had +resolved to pronounce against Dick as soon as his marriage with +Miss Altifiorla should have been settled. He did not wish to leave +himself altogether alone in the world, and if this Dick were +dismissed it would be necessary that he should provide himself with +another,--unless he were minded to provide himself with a wife +instead. He became therefore gradually more gracious after the little +speech which has been above given. Dick had understood perfectly who +the "she" had been, and what was the "it" intended. As no question +had been asked he had made no reply, but he was quite quick enough +to perceive the working of the Baronet's mind. He despised the +Baronet almost as thoroughly as did Mr. Western. But for certain +purposes,--as to which he despised himself also,--the friendship of +the Baronet suited him just at present. + +One morning, for private reasons of his own, Dick went into Perth, +which was twenty miles distant from the Baronet's shooting lodge, and +returned the same day bringing the postbag with him from a point in +the road at which it was daily left by the postman. Sir Francis with +unusual haste read his letters, and among them was one from Miss +Altifiorla. But Dick had a budget of news which he was anxious to +reveal, and which he did tell before Sir Francis had said anything as +to his own letter. There was another friend, one Captain Fawkes, at +the Lodge with them, and Dick had at first been restrained by this +man's presence. As soon as he found himself alone with Sir Francis he +began. "Lady Grant has gone off to Dresden," he said. + +"Where did you hear that?" asked the Baronet. + +"They told me so at the club. Everybody in Perth knows that she has +gone;--and why." + +"What business is it of theirs? Since you know so much about it, why +has she gone?" + +"To persuade her brother to come home and take his wife once more. It +was an infernal shame that they should ever have been separated. In +fact she has gone to undo what you did. If she can only succeed in +making the man know the whole truth about it, free from all lies, +she'll do what she's gone to do." + +"What the devil do you mean by lies?" said Sir Francis, rising in +wrath from his chair. + +"Well; lies mean lies. As I haven't applied the word to anyone I +suppose I may be allowed to use it and to stand by it. I suppose you +know what lies mean, and I suppose you are aware that Western has +been made to believe lies about his wife." + +"Who told them?" + +"I say nothing about that," said Dick. "Lies are a sort of thing +which are very commonly told, and are ordinarily ascribed to the +world at large. The world never quarrels with the accusation. The +world has told most infernal lies to this man about his wife. I don't +suppose the world means to call me out for saying as much as that." +Then the two remained silent for some moments and Dick proceeded with +his eloquence. "Of course there have been lies,--damnable lies. Had a +man, or a woman,--it's all one,--gone to that poor creature with a +pistol in his hand and blown her brains out he wouldn't have done a +more dastardly action." + +"What the devil do you mean by that?" said the other. + +"I'm not talking about you,--specially. I say lies have been told; +but I do not say who has told them. I rather suspect a woman to be at +the bottom of it." Sir Francis who had in his pocket a most tender +and loving reply from Miss Altifiorla knew very well who was the lady +to whom Dick referred. "That man has been made to believe certain +things about his wife which are all lies,--lies from beginning to +end." + +"He has been made to believe that she was engaged to me first. Is +that a lie?" + +"That depends on the way in which it was told. He didn't send her +home merely for that. I am not saying what the lies were, but they +were damnable lies. You sometimes tell me that I ain't any better +than another,--or generally a great deal worse. But I'd rather have +blown my brains out than have told such lies about a woman as have +been told here by somebody. You ask me what they were saying at the +club in Perth. Now you know it pretty well all." + +It must be supposed that what had passed at the club had induced Dick +to determine that it would no longer become him to remain with Sir +Francis as his humble friend. Very evil things had in truth been +said of Sir Francis, and they were more than Dick could endure. The +natural indignation of the man was aroused, so that by degrees it had +come to pass that he hated the Baronet. He had before said very sharp +words to him, but had now gone home resolved in his righteous mind to +bring things to a conclusion. It matters little in the telling of our +story to know what lies Dick did in truth impute to his friend; but +they were of a nature to fill his mind with righteous wrath and to +produce from him the eloquence above described. + +Sir Francis, whose vanity had been charmed by the letter which he +kept in his pocket, had already made up his mind to part with Dick. +But Dick's words as now spoken left him no alternative. It was a +question with him whether he could not so part with him as to inflict +some further punishment. "Why, Dick," he said smiling, "you have +broken out quite in a new place." + +"I know nothing about that." + +"You must have been with the Bishop and taken a lesson in preaching. +I never heard you come out so strong before." + +"I wish you'd heard what some of those men at Perth said about you." + +"And how you answered them as my friend." + +"As far as I remember I didn't say much myself. What I did say +certainly was not in your favour. But I was hardest on that sweet +young lady with the Italian name. You won't mind that because you and +she are two, now." + +"Can you tell me, Ross, how long you have been eating my bread?" + +"I suppose I could." + +"Or how much you have drank of my wine?" + +"I haven't made a calculation of that nature. It isn't usual." + +"For shooting here, how much have you ever contributed?" + +"When I shoot I contribute nothing. All the world understands that." + +"How much money do you owe me?" + +"I owe you nothing that I've ever promised to pay." + +"And now you think it a sign of a fine gentleman to go and talk +openly at a club about matters which you have heard from me in +confidence! I don't. I think it a very--" + +"A very what, Sir Francis? I have not done as you allege. But you +were going to observe a very--; what was it?" It must be here +explained that Dick Ross was not a man who feared many things; but +that Sir Francis feared much. Dick had little to lose by a row, +whereas the Baronet would be injured. The Baronet therefore declined +to fill in the epithet which he had omitted. He knew from former +experience what Dick would and what he would not bear. + +"I don't choose to descend to Billingsgate," said Sir Francis. "I +have my own ideas as to your conduct." + +"Very gentlemanlike, isn't it?" said Dick, with a smile, meaning +thereby to impute it to Sir Francis as cowardice that he was +unwilling to say the reverse. + +"But, under all the circumstances, it will be quite as well that you +should leave the Lodge. You must feel that yourself." + +"Oh; quite so. I am delighted to think that I shall be able to leave +without having had any unpleasant words. Perhaps to-morrow will do?" + +"Just as you please." + +"Then I shall be able to add a few drops to all those buckets of +claret which you threw in my teeth just now. I wonder whether any +gentleman was ever before asked by another gentleman how much wine +he had drank in his house, or how many dinners he had eaten. When +you asked me did you expect me to pay for my dinners and wine?" Sir +Francis refused to make any reply to this question. "And when you +delicately hinted at my poverty, had you found my finances to be +lower than you'd always known them? It is disagreeable to be a +penniless younger brother. I have found it so all my life. And I +admit that I ought to have earned my bread. It would have been much +better for me had I done so. People may declare that I am good for +nothing, and may hold me up as an example to be shunned. But I +flatter myself that nobody has called me a blackguard. I have told +no lies to injure men behind their backs;--much less have I done so +to injure a woman. I have sacrificed no girl to my revenge, simply +because she has thrown me over. In the little transactions I have +had I have always run straight. Now I think that upon the whole I +had better go before dinner, and not add anything to the bucket of +claret." + +"Just as you please," said Sir Francis. Then Dick Ross left the room +and went away to make such arrangements for his departure as were +possible to him, and the readers of this story shall see him and hear +him no more. + +Sir Francis when he was left alone took out Miss Altifiorla's letter +and read it again. He was a man who could assume grand manners in his +personal intercourse with women, but was peculiarly apt to receive +impression from them. He loved to be flattered, and was prone to +believe anything good of himself that was said to him by one of them. +He therefore took the following letter for more than it was worth. + + + MY DEAR SIR FRANCIS,--I know that you will have been quite + quick enough to have understood when you received my + former little scrawl what my answer would be. When a woman + attempts to deceive a man in such a matter she knows + beforehand that the attempt will be vain; and I certainly + did not think that I could succeed with you. But yet a + feeling of shamefacedness,--what some ladies consider as + modesty, though it might more properly be called _mauvaise + honte_,--forced me into temporary silence. What could I + wish better than to be loved by such a one as you? In the + first place there is the rank which goes for much with + me. Then there is the money, which I admit counts for + something. I would never have allowed myself to marry even + if I had chanced to love a poor man. Then there are the + manners, and the peculiar station before the world, which + is quite separate from the rank. To me these alone are + irresistible. Shall I say too that personal appearance + does count for much. I can fancy myself marrying an ugly + man, but I can fancy also that I could not do it without + something of disgust. + + +Miss Altifiorla when she wrote this had understood well that vanity +and love of flattery were conspicuous traits in the character of her +admirer. + + + Having owned so much, what is there more to say than that + I am the happiest woman between the seas? + + +The reader must be here told that this letter had been copied out a +second time because in the first copy she had allowed the word girl +to pass in the above sentence. Something told her that she had better +write woman instead, and she had written it. + + + What more is there for me to add to the above except + to tell you that I love you with all my heart. Months + ago,--it seems to be years now,--when Cecilia Holt had + caught your fancy, I did regard her as the most fortunate + girl. But I did not regard you as the happiest of men, + because I felt sure that there was a something between you + which would not suit. There is an asperity, rather than + strictness, about her which I knew your spirit would not + brook. She would have borne the battlings which would + have arisen with an equal temper. She can indeed bear all + things with equanimity--as she does her present position. + But you, though you would have battled and have conquered, + would still have suffered. I do not think that the wife + you now desire is one with whom you will have to wage + war. Shall I say that if you marry her whom you have now + asked to join her lot with yours, there will be no such + fighting? I think that I shall know how to hold my own + against the world as your wife. But with you I shall only + attempt to hold my own by making myself one with you in + all your desires and aspirations. + + I am yours with all my heart, with all my body and soul. + + FRANCESCA. + + I say nothing now about the immediate future, but I hope + it will please your highness to visit your most worthy + clerical relations in this cathedral city before long. I + shall say nothing to any of your clerical relations as + to my prospects in life until I shall have received your + sanction for doing so. But the sooner I do receive it the + better for my peace of mind. + + +Sir Francis was upon the whole delighted with the letter, and the +more delighted as he now read it for the third time. "There is such +an air of truth in every word of it." It was thus that he spoke to +himself about the letter as he sucked in the flattery. It was thus +that Miss Altifiorla had intended that he should receive it. She knew +herself too well to suspect that her flattery should fail. Not a word +of it failed. In nothing was he more gratified than in her allusions +to his matrimonial efforts with Miss Holt. She had assured him that +he would have finally conquered that strong-minded young woman. +But she had at the same time told him of the extreme tenderness of +his heart. He absolutely believed her when she whispered to him +her secret,--that she had envied Cecilia her lot when Cecilia was +supposed to be the happy bride. He quite understood those allusions +to his own pleasures and her assurance that she would never interfere +with him. There was just a doubt whether a thing so easily got +could be worth the keeping. But then he remembered his cousin and +determined to be a man of his word. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE SECRET ESCAPES. + + +"All right. See you soon. Ever yours, F. G." Such was the entire +response which Miss Altifiorla received from her now declared lover. +Sir Francis had told himself that he hated the bother of writing +love-letters. But in truth there was with him also an idea that it +might be as well that he should not commit himself to declarations +that were in their nature very strong. It was not that he absolutely +thought of any possible future event in which his letters might be +used against him, but there was present to him a feeling that the +least said might be the soonest mended. + +Miss Altifiorla when she received the above scrawl was quite +satisfied with it. She, too, was cautious in her nature, but not +quite so clever as her lover. She did, indeed, feel that she had now +caught her fish. She would not let him escape by any such folly as +that which Cecilia Holt had committed. The Baronet should be allowed +his full swing till she was entitled to call herself Lady Geraldine. +Then, perhaps, there might be a tussle between them as to which +should have his own way,--or hers. The great thing at present was to +obtain the position, and she did feel that she had played her cards +uncommonly well as far as the game had gone at present. + +But there came upon her an irresistible temptation to make her +triumph known among her friends at Exeter. All her girl friends had +got themselves married. There was Mrs. Green, and Mrs. Thorne, and +Mrs. Western. Poor Cecilia had not gained much, but still she was +Mrs. Western. Miss Altifiorla did in truth regard herself as Miss +Altifiorla with but small satisfaction. She had her theories about +women's rights, and the decided advantages of remaining single, +and the sufficiency of a lady to stand alone in the world. There +was probably some vague glimmering of truth in her ideas; some +half-formed belief in her own doctrine. But still it had ever been +an uncomfortable creed, and one which she was ready to desert at the +slightest provocation. Her friends had all deserted it, and had left +her as we say high and dry on the barren bank, while they had been +carried away by the fertilising stream. She, too, would now swim down +the river of matrimony with a beautiful name, and a handle to it, as +the owner of a fine family property. Women's rights was an excellent +doctrine to preach, but for practice could not stand the strain of +such temptation. And though in boasting of her good fortune she must +no doubt confess that she had been wrong, still there would be much +more of glory than of shame in the confession. + +It was chance probably that made her tell her secret in the first +instance to Mrs. Thorne. Mrs. Thorne had been Maude Hippesley and was +niece to Sir Francis Geraldine. Miss Altifiorla had pledged herself +to Sir Francis not to make known her engagement at the Deanery. +But such pledges go for very little. Mrs. Thorne was not now an +inhabitant of Exeter, and was, so to say, the most bosom-friend left +to her,--after her disruption from Mrs. Western. Was it probable that +such a secret should be kept from a bosom-friend? Mrs. Thorne who had +a large circle of friends in the county would hardly have admitted +the claim, but she would be more likely to do so after receiving the +intimation. Of course it would be conveyed under the seal of a sacred +promise,--which no doubt would be broken as soon as she reached +the Deanery. On this occasion she called on Miss Altifiorla to ask +questions in reference to "poor Cecilia." With herself and the Dean +and Mrs. Dean there was real sorrow at Cecilia's troubles. And there +was also no mode of acquiring true information. "Do tell me something +about poor Cecilia," said Mrs. Thorne. + +"Poor Cecilia, indeed! She is there all alone and sees almost no one. +Of course you've heard that Lady Grant was here." + +"We thought it so nice of Lady Grant to come all the way from +Scotland to see her sister-in-law." + +"Lady Grant of course is anxious to get her brother to take back his +wife. They haven't a great deal of money among them, and when Mrs. +Holt dies Cecilia's fortune would be a nice addition." + +"I don't think Lady Grant can have thought of that," said Mrs. +Thorne. + +"Lady Grant would be quite prudent in thinking of it and like the +rest of the world. Her husband was only a regimental officer in India +who got knighted for doing something that came in his way. There +isn't any family property among them, and of course she is anxious." + +This solicitude as to "family property" on the part of Miss +Altifiorla did strike Mrs. Thorne as droll. But she went on with her +inquiries. "And what is Cecilia doing?" + +"Not very much," said Miss Altifiorla. "What is there for her to do? +Poor girl! She has played her cards so uncommonly badly, when she +took up with Mr. Western after having been dropped by Sir Francis." + +"After dropping Sir Francis!" + +Miss Altifiorla smiled. Was it likely that Cecilia Holt should have +dropped Sir Francis? "It doesn't much matter now. If it does her +wounded pride good to say so of course she can say it." + +"We always believed that it was so at the Deanery." + +"At any rate she made a mess of it. And now she has to bear the +fortune which her fates have sent her. I own that I am a little angry +with Cecilia, not for having dropped Sir Francis as you called it, +but for managing her matters so badly with Mr. Western. She seems to +me to have no idea of the sort of duties which fall to the lot of a +wife." + +"I should have thought you'd have liked her the better for that," +said Mrs. Thorne, with a smile. + +"Why so? I think you must have misunderstood my theory of life. When +a woman elects to marry, and does so from sheer love and regard for +the man, she should certainly make her duty to him the first motive +of all her actions." + +"What a grand lesson! It is a pity that my husband should not be here +to hear it." + +"I have no doubt he finds that you do so." + +"Or Sir Francis Geraldine. I suppose my uncle is still in search of a +wife, and if he knew where to find such excellent principles he would +be able to make his choice. What a joke it would be should he again +try his luck at Exeter?" + +"He has again tried his luck at Exeter," said Miss Altifiorla, in +a tone in which some slight shade of ridicule was mixed with the +grandiloquence which she wished to assume. + +"What on earth do you mean?" said Mrs. Thorne. + +"Simply what I seem to mean. I had not intended to have told you at +present, though I would sooner tell you than any person living. You +must promise me, however, that it shall go no further. Sir Francis +Geraldine has done me the honour to ask me to be his wife." Thus she +communicated her good news; and did so in a tone of voice that was +very low, and intended to be humble. + +"My uncle going to marry you? Good gracious!" + +"Is it more wonderful than that he should have thought of marrying +Cecilia Holt?" + +"Well, yes. Not that I know why it should be, except that Cecilia +came first, and that you and she were so intimate." + +"Was he doomed to remain alone in the world because of that?" asked +Miss Altifiorla. + +"Well, no; I don't exactly mean that. But it is droll." + +"I hope that the Dean and Mrs. Hippesley will be satisfied with his +choice. I do particularly hope that all his friends will feel that he +is doing well. But," she added, perceiving that her tidings had not +been received with any strong expression of family satisfaction--"but +I trust that, as Lady Geraldine, I may at any rate be the means of +keeping the family together." + +There was to Mrs. Thorne almost a joke in this, as she knew that her +father did not at all approve of Sir Francis, and was with difficulty +induced to have him at the Deanery. And she knew also that the Dean +did in his heart greatly dislike Miss Altifiorla, though for the sake +of what was generally called "peace within the cathedral precincts," +he had hitherto put up also with her. What might happen in the Dean's +mind, or what determination the Dean might take when the two should +be married, she could not say. But she felt that it might probably +be beyond the power of the then Lady Geraldine "to keep the family +together." "Well, I am surprised," said Mrs. Thorne. "And I am to +tell nobody." + +"I don't see any good in publishing the thing in High Street just at +present." Then Mrs. Thorne understood that she need not treat the +communication as a strict secret. "In fact, I don't see why it should +be kept specially in the dark. Francis has not enjoined anything like +secrecy." This was the first time that she had allowed herself the +use of the Baronet's name without the prefix. "When it is to be I +have not as yet even begun to think. Of course he is in a hurry. Men, +I believe, generally are. But in this case there may be some reasons +for delay. Arrangements as to the family property must be made, and +Castle Gerald must be prepared for our reception. I don't suppose we +can be married just off hand, like some happier folks." Mrs. Thorne +did not know whether to take this to herself, as she had been married +herself at last rather in a scramble, or whether it was intended to +apply to poor Cecilia, whose husband, though he was in comfortable +circumstances, cannot be said to have possessed family property. +"And now, dear;" continued Miss Altifiorla, "what am I to do for +bridesmaids? You three have all been married before me. There are +his two unmarried sisters of course." Mrs. Thorne was aware that her +uncle had absolutely quarrelled with his mother and sisters, and had +not spoken to them for years. "I suppose that it will come off in the +cathedral, and that your father will perform the ceremony. I don't +know, indeed, whether Francis might not wish to have the Bishop." +Mrs. Thorne was aware that the Bishop, who was a strict man, would +not touch Sir Francis Geraldine with a pair of tongs. "But all these +things will shake themselves down comfortably no doubt. In the +meantime I am in a twitter of ecstatic happiness. You, who have gone +through it all, will quite understand what I mean. It seems that as +a lover he is the most exigeant of gentlemen. He requires constant +writing to, and woe betide me if I do not obey his behests. However, +I do not complain, and must confess that I am at the present moment +the most happy of young women." + +Mrs. Thorne of course expressed her congratulations, and took her +departure without having committed herself to a word as to the other +inhabitants of the Deanery. But when she got to her father's house, +where she was for the present staying, she in truth startled them all +by the news. The Dean had just come into the drawing-room to have his +afternoon tea and a little gossip with his wife and his own sister, +Mrs. Forrester, from London. "Who do you think is going to be +married, and to whom?" said Mrs. Thorne. "I'll give you all three +guesses apiece, and bet you a pair of gloves all round that you don't +make it out." + +"Not Miss Altifiorla?" said her mother. + +"That's only one. A marriage requires two personages. I still hold +good by my bet." + +"Miss Altifiorla going to be married!" said the Dean. "Who is the +unfortunate victim?" + +"Papa, do not be ill-natured. Why should not Miss Altifiorla be +married as well as another?" + +"In the first place, my dear," said Mrs. Forrester, "because I +understand that the lady has always expressed herself as being in +favour of a single life." + +"I go beyond that," said the Dean, "and maintain that any single life +would be preferable to a marriage with Miss Altifiorla." + +"Considering that she is my friend, papa, I think that you are very +unkind." + +"But who is to be the gentleman?" asked her mother. + +"Ah! there's the question! Why don't you guess?" Then Mrs. Dean +did name three or four of the most unpromising unmarried elderly +gentlemen in Exeter, and the Dean, in that spirit of satire against +his own order which is common among clergymen, suggested an old +widowed Minor Canon, who was in the habit of chanting the Litany. +"You are none of you near the mark. You ought to come nearer home." + +"Nearer home?" said Mrs. Dean with a look of discomfort in her face. + +"Yes, mamma. A great deal nearer home." + +"It can't be your Uncle Septimus," said the Dean. Now Uncle Septimus +was the unmarried brother of old Mr. Thorne, and was regarded by +all the Thorne family as a perfect model of an unselfish, fine old +lovable gentleman. + +"Good gracious, no!" said Mrs. Thorne. "What a horrible idea! +Fancy Uncle Septimus doomed to pass his life in company with Miss +Altifiorla! The happy man in question is--Sir Francis Geraldine." + +"No!" said Mrs. Hippesley, jumping from her seat. + +"It is impossible," said the Dean, who, though he greatly disliked +his brother-in-law, still thought something of the family into which +he had married, and thoroughly despised Miss Altifiorla. "I do not +think that Sir Francis could be so silly as that." + +"It cannot be," said Mrs. Hippesley. + +"What has the young lady done to make it impossible?" asked Mrs. +Forrester. + +"Nothing on earth," said Mrs. Thorne. "She is my special friend and +is in my opinion a great deal more than worthy of my uncle Francis. +Only papa, who dislikes them both, would like to make it out that the +two of them are going to cut their own throats each by marrying the +other. I wish papa could have heard the way in which she said that +he would have to marry them,--unless the Bishop should like to come +forward and perform the ceremony." + +"I shall do nothing of the kind," said the Dean angrily. + +"If you had heard," continued his daughter, "all that she had to +say about the family name and the family property, and the family +grandeur generally, you would have thought her the most becoming +young woman in the country to be the future Lady Geraldine." + +"I wish you wouldn't talk of it, my dear," said Mrs. Hippesley. + +"We shall have to talk of it, and had better become used to it among +ourselves. I don't suppose that Miss Altifiorla has invented the +story out of her own head. She would not say that she was engaged to +marry my uncle if it were not true." + +"It's my belief," said the Dean, getting up and walking out of the +room in great anger, "that Sir Francis Geraldine will never marry +Miss Altifiorla." + +"I don't think my brother will ever marry Miss Altifiorla," said Mrs. +Dean. "He is very silly and very vicious, but I don't think he'll +ever do anything so bad as that." + +"Poor Miss Altifiorla!" said Mrs. Thorne afterwards to her Aunt +Forrester. + +That same evening Miss Altifiorla, feeling that she had broken the +ice, and, oppressed by the weight of the secret which was a secret +still in every house in Exeter except the Deanery, wrote to her other +friend Mrs. Green, and begged her to come down. She had tidings to +tell of the greatest importance. So Mrs. Green put on her bonnet and +came down. "My dear," said Miss Altifiorla, "I have something to tell +you. I am going to be--" + +"Not married!" said Mrs. Green. + +"Yes, I am. How very odd that you should guess. But yet when I come +to think of it I don't know that it is odd. Because after all there +does come a time in,--a lady's life when it is probable that she +will marry." Miss Altifiorla hesitated, having in the first instance +desired to use the word girl. + +"That's as may be," said Mrs. Green. "Your principles used to be on +the other side." + +"Of course all that changes when the opportunity comes. It wasn't so +much that I disliked the idea of marriage, for myself, as that I was +proud of the freedom which I enjoyed. However that is all over. I am +free no longer." + +"And who is it to be?" + +"Ah, who is it to be? Can you make a guess?" + +"Not in the least. I don't know of anybody who has been spooning +you." + +"Oh, what a term to use! No one can say that anyone ever--spooned me. +It is a horrible word. And I cannot bear to hear it fall from my own +lips." + +"It is what young men do do," said Mrs. Green. + +"That I think depends on the rank in life which the young men +occupy;--and also the young women. I can understand that a Bank clerk +should do it to an attorney's daughter." + +"Well; who is it you are going to marry without spooning, which in +my vocabulary is simply another word for two young people being fond +of each other?" Miss Altifiorla remained silent for a while, feeling +that she owed it to herself to awe her present companion by her +manner before she should crush her altogether by the weight of +the name she would have to pronounce. Mrs. Green had received her +communication flippantly, and had probably felt that her friend +intended to demean herself by some mere common marriage. "Who is to +be the happy swain?" asked Mrs. Green. + +"Swain!" said Miss Altifiorla, unable to repress her feelings. + +"Well; lover, young man, suitor, husband as is to be. Some word +common on such occasion will I suppose fit him?" + +Miss Altifiorla felt that no word common on such occasions would fit +him. But yet it was necessary that she should name him, having gone +so far. And, having again been silent for a minute, so as to bethink +herself in what most dignified language this might be done, she +proceeded. "I am to be allied,"--again there was a little pause,--"to +Sir Francis Geraldine!" + +"Him Cecilia Holt rejected!" + +"Him who I think was fortunate enough to escape Cecilia Holt." + +"Goodness gracious! It seems but the other day." + +"Cecilia Holt has since recovered from her wounds and married another +husband, and is now suffering from fresh wounds. Is it odd that the +gentleman should have found some one else to love when the lady has +had time not only to love but to marry, and to be separated from +another man?" + +"Sir Francis Geraldine!" ejaculated Mrs. Green. "Well; I'm sure +I wish you all the joy in the world. When is it to be?" But Mrs. +Green had so offended Miss Altifiorla by her manner of accepting the +news that she could not bring herself to make any further gracious +answer. Mrs. Green therefore took her leave, and the fact of Miss +Altifiorla's engagement was soon known all over Exeter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +LADY GRANT AT DRESDEN. + + +"You have first to believe the story as I tell it you, and get out of +your head altogether the story as you have conceived it." This was +said by Lady Grant to her brother when she had travelled all the way +to Dresden with the purpose of inducing him to take his wife back. +She had come there solely with that object, and it must be said of +her that she had well done her duty as a sister. But she found it by +no means easy to induce her brother to look at the matter with her +eyes. In fact, it was evident to her that he did not believe the +story as she had told it. She must go on and din it into his ears +till by perseverance she should change his belief. He still thought +that credit should be given to that letter from Sir Francis, although +he was aware that to Sir Francis himself as a man he would have given +no credit whatsoever. It had suited his suspicions to believe that +there had been something in common between Sir Francis and his wife +up to the moment in which the terrible fact of her engagement had +been made known to him; and from that belief he could not free his +mind. He had already been persuaded to say that she should come back +to him; but she should come as a sinner confessing her sin. He would +take her back, but as one whom he had been justified in expelling, +and to whom he should be held as extending great mercy. + +But Lady Grant would not accept of his mercy, nor would she encourage +her coming back with such a purpose. It would not be good in the +first place for him that he should think that his wife had been an +offender. His future happiness must depend on his fixed belief in +her purity and truth. And, as for her,--Lady Grant was sure that no +entreaties would induce her to own that she had been in the wrong. +She desired to have no pardon asked, but would certainly ask for no +pardon on her own behalf. + +"Why was it that he came, then, to my house?" asked Mr. Western. + +"Am I, or rather is she, to account for the conduct of such a man as +that? Are you to make her responsible for his behaviour?" + +"She was engaged to him." + +"Undoubtedly. It should have been told to you,--though I can +understand the reasons which kept her silent from day to day. The +time will come when you will understand it also, and know, as I do, +how gracious and how feminine has been her silence." Then there came +across her brother's face a look of doubt as indicating his feeling +that nothing could have justified her silence. "Yes, George; the time +will come that you will understand her altogether although you are +far from doing so now." + +"I believe you think her to be perfect," said he. + +"Hardly perfect, because she is a human being. But although I know +her virtues I have not known her faults. It may be that she is too +proud,--a little unwilling, perhaps, to bend. Most women will bend +whether they be in fault or not. But would you wish your wife to do +so?" + +"I, at any rate, have not asked her." + +"You, at any rate, have not given her the opportunity. My accusation +against you is, that you sent her away from you on an accusation made +solely by that man, and without waiting to hear from herself whether +she would plead guilty to it." + +"I deny it." + +"Yes; I hear your denial. But you will have to acknowledge it, at any +rate to yourself, before you can ever hope to be a happy man." + +"When he wrote to me, I believed the whole story to be a lie from +first to last." + +"And when you found that it was not all a lie, then it became to you +a gospel throughout. You could not understand that the very faults +which had induced her to break her engagement were of a nature to +make him tell his story untruly." + +"When she acknowledged herself to have been engaged to him it nearly +broke my heart." + +"Just so. And, with your heart broken, you would not sift the truth. +She had committed no offence against you in engaging herself." + +"She should have told me as soon as we knew each other." + +"She should have told you before she accepted your offer. But she had +been deterred from doing so by your own revelation to her. You cannot +believe that she intended you always to be in the dark. You cannot +imagine that she had expected that you should never hear of her +adventure with Sir Francis Geraldine." + +"I do not know." + +"I had heard it, and she knew that I had heard it." + +"Why did you not tell me, then?" + +"Do you suppose that I wished to interfere between you and your +wife? Of course I told her that you ought to know. Of course I +told her that you ought to have known it already. But she excused +herself,--with great sorrow. Things had presented themselves in such +a way that the desired opportunity of telling you had never come." +He shook his head. "I tell you that it was so, and you are bound +to believe it of one of whom in all other respects you had thought +well;--of one who loved you with the fondest devotion. Instead +of that there came this man with his insidious falsehoods, with +his implied lies; this man, of whom you have always thought so +badly;--and him you believed instead! I tell you that you can justify +yourself before no human being. You were not entitled to repudiate +your wife for such offence as she had committed, you are not entitled +even had there been no mutual affection to bind you together. How +much less so in your present condition,--and in hers. People will +only excuse you by saying that you were mad. And now in order to +put yourself right, you expect that she shall come forward, and own +herself to have been the cause of this misfortune. I tell you that +she will not do it. I would not even ask her to do it;--not for her +sake, nor for your own." + +"I am then to go," said he, "and grovel in the dust before her feet." + +"There need be no grovelling. There need be no confessions." + +"How then?" + +"Go to Exeter, and simply take her. Disregard what all the world may +say, for the sake of her happiness and for your own. She will make +no stipulation. She will simply throw herself into your arms with +unaffected love. Do not let her have to undergo the suffering of +bringing forth your child without the comfort of knowing that you are +near to her." Then she left him to think in solitude over the words +she had spoken to him. + +He did think of them. But he found it to be impossible to put +absolute faith in them. It was not that he thought that his sister +was deceiving him, that he distrusted her who had taken this long +journey at great personal trouble altogether on his behalf; but that +he could not bring himself to believe that he himself had been so +cruel as to reject his young wife without adequate cause. It had +gradually come across his mind that he had been most cruel, most +unjust,--if he had done so; and to this judgment, passed by himself +on himself, he would not submit. In concealing her engagement she had +been very wrong, but it must be that she had concealed more than her +engagement. And to have been engaged to such a man added much to the +fault in his estimation. He would not acknowledge that she had been +deceived as to the man's character and had set herself right before +it was too late. Why had the man come to his house and asked for +him,--after what had passed between them,--if not in compliance with +some understanding between him and her? But yet he would take her +back if she would confess her fault and beg his pardon,--for then he +would be saved the disgrace of having to acknowledge that he had been +in fault from the first. + +His sister left him alone without saying a word on the subject for +twenty-four hours, and then again attacked him. "George," she said, +"I must go back to-morrow. I have left my children all alone and +cannot stay longer away from them." + +"Must you go to-morrow?" he asked. + +"Indeed, yes. Had not the matter been one of almost more than life +and death I should not have come. Am I to return and feel that my +journey has been for nothing?" + +"What would you have me do?" + +"Return with me, and go at once to Exeter." + +He almost tore his hair in his agony as he walked about the room +before he replied to her. But she remained silent, watching him. "You +must leave me here till I think about it." + +"Then I might as well not have come at all," she said. + +He moved about the room in an agony of spirit. He knew it to be +essential to his future happiness in life that he should be the +master in his own house. And he felt that he could not be so unless +he should be known to have been right in this terrible misfortune +with which their married life had been commenced. There was no +obliterating it, no forgetting it, no ignoring it. He had in his +passion sent her away from him, and, passionately, she had withdrawn. +Let them not say a word about it, there would still have been this +terrible event in both their memories. And for himself he knew that +unless it could be settled from the first that he had acted with +justice, his life would be intolerable to him. He was a man, and it +behoved him to have been just. She was a woman, and the feeling of +having had to be forgiven would not be so severe with her. She, when +taken a second time into grace and pardoned, might still rejoice and +be happy. But for himself, he reminded himself over and over again +that he was a man, and assured himself that he could never lift up +his head were he by his silence to admit that he had been in the +wrong. + +But still his mind was changed,--was altogether changed by the coming +of his sister. Till she had come all had been a blank with him, in +which no light had been possible. He could see no life before him +but one in which he should be constantly condemned by his fellow-men +because of his cruelty to his young wife. Men would not stop to ask +whether he had been right or wrong, but would declare him at any rate +to have been stern and cruel. And then he had been torn to the heart +by his memory of those passages of love which had been so sweet to +him. He had married her to be the joy of his life, and she had become +so to his entire satisfaction when in his passion he had sent her +away. He already knew that he had made a great mistake. Angry as he +had been, he should not have thus sought to avenge himself. He should +have known himself better than to think that because she had been in +fault he could therefore live without her. He had owned to himself +when his sister had come to him that he must use her services in +getting his wife once again. Was she not the one human being that +suited him at all points? But still,--but still his honour must be +saved. If she in truth desired to come back to him, she would not +hesitate to own that she had been in fault. + +"What am I to say to her? What message will you send to her? You will +hardly let me go back without some word." This was said to him by his +sister as he walked about the room in his misery. What message could +he send? He desired to return himself, and was willing to do so at +a moment's notice if only he could be assured that if he did so she +would as a wife do her duty by owning that she had been in the wrong. +How should he live with a wife who would always be asserting to +herself, and able to assert to him, that in this extremity of their +trouble he had been the cause of it;--not that she would so assert +it aloud, but that the power of doing so would be always present to +her and to him? And yet he was resolved to return, and if he allowed +his sister to go back without him never would there come so fair an +opportunity again. "I have done my duty by you," said his sister. + +"Yes, yes. I need hardly tell you that I am grateful to you." + +"And now do your duty by her." + +"If she will write to me one line to beg me to come I will do so." + +"You have absolutely driven her away from you, and left her abruptly, +so that she should have no opportunity of imploring you to spare her. +And now you expect that she should do so?" + +"Yes;--if she were wrong. By your own showing she was the first to +sin against me." + +"You do not know the nature of a woman, and especially you do not +know hers. I have nothing further to say. I shall leave this by the +early train to-morrow morning, and you can go with me or let me go +alone as you please. I have said what I came to say, and if I have +said it without effect it will only show me how hard a man's heart +may become by living in the world." Then she left him alone and went +her way. + +He took his hat and escaped from the Hotel and walked along the +Elbe all alone. He went far down the river, and did not return for +many hours. At first his thoughts were full of anger against his +sister, though he acknowledged that she had taken great trouble in +coming there on a mission intended to be beneficent to them both. +With the view solely of doing her duty to her brother and to her +sister-in-law, she had taken infinite trouble; yet he was very angry +with her. Being a woman she had most unjustly taken the part of +another woman against him. Cecilia would have suffered but little in +having been forced to acknowledge her great sin. But he would suffer +greatly,--he who had sinned not at all,--by the tacit confession +which he would be thus compelled to make. It was true that it was +necessary that he should return. The happiness of them all, including +that unborn child, required it. His sister knowing this demanded that +he should sacrifice himself in order that his wife might be indulged +in her pride. And yet he knew that he must do it. Though he might go +to her in silence, and in silence renew his married life, he would by +so doing confess that he had been wrong. To such confession he should +not be driven. In the very gall of bitterness, and with the sense of +injustice strong upon him, he did resolve that he would return to +England with his sister. But having so resolved, with his wrath hot +against Lady Grant, his mind was gradually turned to Cecilia and her +condition. How sweet would it be to have her once again sitting at +his table, once again leaning on his arm, once again looking up into +his face with almost comical doubt, seeking to find in his eyes what +answer he would best like her to make when referring to her for some +decision. "It is your opinion that I want," he would say. "Ah! but +if I only knew yours I should be so much better able to have one of +my own." Then there would come a look over her face which almost +maddened him when he thought that he should never see it again. It +was the idea that she who could so look at him should have looked +with the same smile into the face of that other man which had driven +him to fury;--that she should have so looked in those very days in +which she had gazed into his own. + +Could it be that though she had been engaged to the man she had never +taken delight in so gazing at him? That girl whom he had thought to +make his wife, and who had so openly jilted him, had never understood +him as Cecilia had done,--had never looked at him as Cecilia +had looked. But he, after he had been so treated,--happily so +treated,--had certainly never desired ever to see the girl. But this +wife of his, who was possessed of all the charms which a woman could +own, of whom he acknowledged to himself day after day that she was, +as regarded his taste, peerless and unequalled, she after breaking +from that man, that man unworthy to be called a gentleman, still +continued to hold intercourse with him! Was it not clear that she had +still remained on terms of intimacy with him? + +His walk along the Elbe was very bitter, but yet he determined to +return to England with his sister. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +MR. WESTERN YIELDS. + + +The fact that Lady Grant had gone to Dresden was not long in reaching +the ears of Mrs. Western. Dick Ross had heard at the club at Perth +that she had gone, and had told Sir Francis. Sir Francis passed on +the news to Miss Altifiorla, and from her it had reached the deserted +wife. Miss Altifiorla had not told it direct, because at that time +she and Cecilia were not supposed to be on friendly terms. But the +tidings had got about and Mrs. Western had heard them. + +"She's a good woman," said Cecilia to her mother. "I knew her to be +that the first moment that she came to me. She is rough as he is, +and stern, and has a will of her own. But her heart is tender and +true;--as is his also at the core." + +"I don't know about that," said Mrs. Holt, with the angry tone which +she allowed herself to use only when speaking of Mr. Western. + +"Yes; he is, mamma. In your affection for me you will not allow +yourself to be just to him. In truth you hardly know him." + +"I know that he has destroyed your happiness for ever, and made me +very wretched." + +"No, mamma; not for ever. It may be that he will come for me, and +that then we shall be as happy as the day is long." As she said +this a vision came before her eyes of the birth of her child and of +her surroundings at the time;--the anxious solicitude of a loving +husband, the care of attendants who would be happy because she was +happy, the congratulations of friends, and the smiles of the world. +But above all she pictured to herself her husband standing by her +bedside with the child in his arms. The dream had been dreamed +before, and was re-dreamed during every hour of the day. "Lady Grant +is strong," she continued, "and can plead for me better than I could +plead myself." + +"Plead for you! Why should there be anyone wanted to plead for you? +Will Lady Grant plead with you for her brother?" + +"It is not necessary. My own heart pleads for him. It is because he +has been in the wrong that an intercessor is necessary for me. It is +they who commit the injury that have a difficulty in forgiving. If he +came to me do you not know that I should throw myself into his arms +and be the happiest woman in the world without a word spoken?" The +conversation was not then carried further, but Mrs. Holt continued +to shake her head as she sate at her knitting. In her estimation no +husband could have behaved worse than had her son-in-law. And she +was of opinion that he should be punished for his misconduct before +things could be made smooth again. + +Some days afterwards Miss Altifiorla called at the house, and sent in +a note while she stood waiting in the hall. In the note she merely +asked whether her "dear Cecilia" would be willing to receive her +after what had passed. She had news to tell of much importance, and +she hoped that her "dear Cecilia" would receive her. There had been +no absolute quarrel, no quarrel known to the servants, and Cecilia +did receive her. "Oh, my dear," she said, bustling into the room with +an air of affected importance, "you will be surprised,--I think that +you must be surprised at what I have to tell you." + +"I will be surprised if you wish it," said Cecilia. + +"Let me first begin by assuring you, that you must not make light of +my news. It is of the greatest importance, not only to me, but of +some importance also to you." + +"It shall be of importance." + +"Because you begin with that little sneer which has become so common +with you. You must be aware of it. Amidst the troubles of your own +life, which we all admit to be very grievous, there has come upon +you a way of thinking that no one else's affairs can be of any +importance." + +"I am not aware of it." + +"It is so a little. And pray believe me that I am not in the least +angry about it. I knew that it would be so when I came to you this +morning; and yet I could not help coming. Indeed as the thing has now +been made known to the Dean's family I could not bear that you should +be left any longer in ignorance." + +"What is the thing?" + +"There it is again;--that sneer. I cannot tell you unless you will +interest yourself. Does nothing interest you now beyond your own +misfortunes?" + +"Alas, no. I fear not." + +"But this shall interest you. You must be awaked to the affairs of +the world--especially such an affair as this. You must be shaken up. +This I suppose will shake you up. If not, you must be past all hope." + +"What on earth is it?" + +"Sir Francis Geraldine--! You have heard at any rate of Sir Francis +Geraldine." + +"Well, yes; I have not as yet forgotten the name." + +"I should think not. Sir Francis Geraldine has--" And then she paused +again. + +"Cut his little finger," said Cecilia. Had she dreamed of what was +to come she would not have turned Sir Francis into ridicule. But she +had been aware of Miss Altifiorla's friendship with Sir Francis,--or +rather what she had regarded as an affectation of friendship, and did +not for a moment anticipate such a communication as was to be made to +her. + +"Cecilia Holt--" + +"That at any rate is not my name." + +"I dare say you wish it were." + +"I would not change my real name for that of any woman under the +sun." + +"Perhaps not; but there are other women in a position of less +grandeur. I am going to change mine." + +"No!" + +"I thought you would be surprised because it would look as though I +were about to abandon my great doctrine. It is not so. My opinions on +that great subject are not in the least changed. But of course there +must be some women whom the exigencies of the world will require to +marry." + +"A good many, first and last." + +"About the good many I do not at this moment concern myself. My duty +is clearly before me and I mean to perform it. I have been asked to +ally myself--;" then there was a pause, and the speaker discovered +when it was too late that she was verging on the ridiculous in +declaring her purpose of forming an alliance;--"that is to say, I am +going to marry Sir Francis Geraldine." + +"Sir Francis Geraldine!" + +"Do you see any just cause or impediment?" + +"None in the least. And yet how am I to answer such a question? I saw +cause or impediment why I should not marry him." + +"You both saw it, I suppose?" said Miss Altifiorla, with an air of +grandeur. "You both supposed that you were not made for each other, +and wisely determined to give up the idea. You did not remain single, +and I suppose we need not either." + +"Certainly not for my sake." + +"Our intimacy since that time has been increased by circumstances, +and we have now discovered that we can both of us best suit our own +interests by an--" + +"An alliance," suggested Mrs. Western. + +"If you please,--though I am quite aware that you use the term as a +sneer." As to this Mrs. Western was too honest to deny the truth, and +remained silent. + +"I thought it proper," continued Miss Altifiorla, "as we had been so +long friends, to inform you that it will be so. You had your chance, +and as you let it slip I trust that you will not envy me mine." + +"Not in the least." + +"At any rate you do not congratulate me." + +"I have been very remiss. I acknowledge it. But upon my word the news +has so startled me that I have been unable to remember the common +courtesies of the world. I thought when I heard of your travelling up +to London together that you were becoming very intimate." + +"Oh, it had been ever so much before that,--the intimacy at least. Of +course I did not know him before he came to this house. But a great +many things have happened since that; have there not? Well, good-bye, +dear. I have no doubt we shall continue as friends, especially as we +shall be living almost in the neighbourhood. Castle Gerald is to be +at once fitted up for me, and I hope you will forget all our little +tiffs, and often come and stay with me." So saying, Miss Altifiorla, +having told her grand news, made her adieus and went away. + +"A great many things have happened since that," said Cecilia, +repeating to herself her friend's words. It seemed to her to be so +many that a lifetime had been wasted since Sir Francis had first +come to that house. She had won the love of the best man she had +ever known, and married him, and had then lost his love! And now +she had been left as a widowed wife, with all the coming troubles +of maternity on her head. She had understood well the ill-natured +sarcasm of Miss Altifiorla. "We shall be living almost in the same +neighbourhood!" Yes; if her separation from her husband was to be +continued, then undoubtedly she would live at Exeter, and, as far as +the limits of the county were concerned, she would be the neighbour +of the future Lady Geraldine. That she should ever willingly be +found under the same roof with Sir Francis was, as she knew well, as +impossible to Miss Altifiorla as to herself. The invitation contained +the sneer, and was intended to contain it. But it created no anger. +She, too, had sneered at Miss Altifiorla quite as bitterly. They had +each learned to despise the other, and not to sneer was impossible. +Miss Altifiorla had come to tell of her triumph, and to sneer in +return. But it mattered nothing. What did matter was whether that +threat should come true. Should she always be left living at Exeter +with her mother? Then she dreamed her dream again, that he had come +back to her, and was sitting by her bedside with his hand in hers +and whispering sweet words to her, while a baby was lying in her +arms--his child. As she thought of the bliss of the fancied moment, +the still possible bliss, her anger seemed to fade away. What would +she not do to bring him back, what would she not say? She had done +amiss in keeping that secret so long, and though the punishment had +been severe, it was not altogether undeserved. It had come to him as +a terrible blow, and he had been unable to suppress his agony. He +should not have treated her so; no, he should not have sent her away. +But she could make excuses now, which but a few weeks since seemed to +her to be impossible. And she understood, she told herself that she +understood, the difference between herself as a woman and him as a +man. He had a right to command, a right to be obeyed, a right to be +master. He had a right to know all the secrets of her heart, and to +be offended when one so important had been kept from him. He had +lifted his hand in great wrath, and the blow he had struck had been +awful. But she would bear it without a word of complaint if only he +would come back to her. As she thought of it, she declared to herself +that she must die if he did not come back. To live as she was living +now would be impossible to her. But if he would come back, how +absolutely would she disregard all that the world might say as to +their short quarrel. It would indeed be known to all the world, but +what could the world do to her if she once again had her husband by +her side? When the blow first fell on her she had thought much of the +ignominy which had befallen her, and which must ever rest with her. +Even though she should be taken back again, people would know that +she had been discarded. But now she told herself that for that she +cared not at all. Then she again dreamed her dream. Her child was +born, and her husband was standing by her with that sweet manly smile +upon his face. She put out her hand as though he would touch it, and +was conscious of an involuntary movement as though she were bending +her face towards him for a kiss. + +Surely he would come to her! His sister had gone to him, and would +have told him the absolute truth. She had never sinned against him, +even by intentional silence. There had been no thought of hers since +she had been his wife which he had not been welcome to share. It +had in truth been for his sake rather than for her own that she had +been silent. She was aware that from cowardice her silence had been +prolonged. But surely now at last he would forgive her that offence. +Then she thought of the words she would use as she owned her fault. +He was a man, and as a man had a right to expect that she would +confess it. If he would come to her, and stand once again with his +arm round her waist, she would confess it. + +"My dear, here is a letter. The postman has just brought it." She +took the letter from her mother's hand and hardly knew whether to be +pleased or disappointed when she found that the address was in the +handwriting of Lady Grant. Lady Grant would of course write whether +with good news or with bad. The address told her nothing, but yet she +could not tear the envelope. "Well, my dear; what is it?" said her +mother. "Why don't you open it?" + +She turned a soft supplicating painful look up to her mother's face +as she begged for grace. "I will go up-stairs, mamma, and will tell +you by-and-by." Then she left the room with the letter unopened in +her hand. It was with difficulty that she could examine its contents, +so apprehensive was she and yet so hopeful, so confident at one +moment of her coming happiness, and yet so fearful at another that +she should be again enveloped in the darkness of her misery. But she +did at last persuade herself to read the words which Lady Grant had +written. They were very short, and ran as follows: "My dear Cecilia, +my brother returns with me, and will at once go down to Exeter." +The shock of her joy was so great that she could hardly see what +followed. "He will hope to reach that place on the fifteenth by the +train which leaves London at nine in the morning." + +That was all, but that was enough. She was sure that he would not +come with the purpose of telling her that he must again leave her. +And she was sure also that if he would once put himself within the +sphere of her personal influence it should be so used that he would +never leave her again. + +"Of course he is coming. I knew he would come. Why should he not +come?" This she exclaimed to her mother, and then went on to speak of +him with a wild rhapsody of joy, as though there had hardly been any +breach in her happiness. And she continued to sing the praises of her +husband till Mrs. Holt hardly knew how to bear her enthusiasm in a +fitting mood. For she, who was not in love, still thought that this +man's conduct had been scandalous, wicked, and cruel; and, if to be +forgiven, only to be forgiven because of the general wickedness and +cruelty of man. + +It had not been without great difficulty that Lady Grant induced her +brother to assent to her writing the letter which has been given +above. When he had agreed to return with her to England he had no +doubt assented to her assertion that he was bound to take his wife +back again, even without any confession. And this had been so much to +gain, had been so felt to be the one only material point necessary, +that he was not pressed as to his manner of doing it. But before they +reached London it was essential that some arrangement should be made +for bringing them together. "Could not I go down to Durton," he had +said, "and could not she come to me there?" No doubt he might have +gone to Durton, and no doubt she would have gone to him if asked. She +would have flown to him at Dresden, or to Jerusalem, at a word spoken +by him. Absence had made him so precious to her, that she would have +obeyed the slightest behest with joy as long as the order given were +to bring them once more together. But of this Lady Grant was not +aware, and, had she been so, the sense of what was becoming would +have restrained her. + +"I think, George, that you had better go to Exeter," she said. + +"Should we not be more comfortable at Durton?" + +"I think that when at Durton you will be more happy if you shall +yourself have fetched her from her mother's home. I think you owe it +to your wife to go to her, and make the journey with her. What is +your objection?" + +"I do not wish to be seen in Exeter," he replied. + +"Nor did she, you may be sure, when she returned there alone. But +what does it matter? If you can be happy in once more possessing +her, it cannot signify who shall see you. There can be nothing to be +ashamed of in going for your wife; nor can any evil happen to you. As +this thing is to be done, let it be done in a noble spirit." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +SIR FRANCIS' ESCAPE. + + +When she had told the Dean's family, and Mrs. Green, and Cecilia, +Miss Altifiorla began to feel that there was no longer a secret worth +the keeping. And indeed it became necessary to her happiness to +divulge this great step in life which she was about to take. She had +written very freely, and very frequently to Sir Francis, and Sir +Francis, to tell the truth, had not responded in the same spirit. She +had received but two answers to six letters, and each answer had been +conveyed in about three lines. There had been no expressions from +him of confiding love, nor any pressing demands for an immediate +marriage. They had all been commenced without even naming her, and +had been finished by the simple signature of his initials. But to +Miss Altifiorla they had been satisfactory. She knew how silly she +would be to expect from such an one as her intended husband long +epistles such as a school girl would require, and, in order to keep +him true to her, had determined to let him know how little exacting +she was inclined to be. She would willingly do all the preliminary +writing if only she could secure her position as Lady Geraldine. She +wrote such letters, letters so full of mingled wit and love and fun, +that she was sure that he must take delight in reading them. "Easy +reading requires hard writing," she said to herself as she copied +for the third time one of her epistles, and copied it studiously +in such handwriting that it should look to have been the very work +of negligence. In all this she had been successful as she thought, +and told herself over and over again how easy it was for a clever +woman to make captive a man of mark, provided that she set herself +assiduously to the task. + +She soon descended from her friends to the shopkeepers, and found +that her news was received very graciously by the mercantile +interests of the city. The milliners, the haberdashers, the furriers +and the bootmakers of Exeter received her communication and her +orders with pleased alacrity. With each of them she held a little +secret conference, telling each with a smiling whisper what fate +was about to do for her. To even the upholsterers, the bankers, the +hotel-keepers and the owners of post-horses she was communicative, +making every one the gratified recipient of her tidings. Thus in +a short time all Exeter knew that Sir Francis Geraldine was about +to lead to the hymeneal altar Miss Altifiorla, and it must be +acknowledged that all Exeter expressed various opinions on the +subject. They who understood that Miss Altifiorla was to pay for the +supplies ordered out of her own pocket declared for the most part how +happy a man was Sir Francis. But those who could only look to Sir +Francis for possible future custom were surprised that the Baronet +should have allowed himself to be so easily caught. And then the +aristocracy expressed its opinion which it must be acknowledged was +for the most part hostile to Miss Altifiorla. It was well known +through the city that the Dean had declared that he would never again +see his brother-in-law at the deanery. And it was whispered that the +Reverend Dr. Pigrum, one of the canons, had stated "that no one in +the least knew where Miss Altifiorla had come from." This hit Miss +Altifiorla very hard,--so much so, that she felt herself obliged to +write an indignant letter to Dr. Pigrum, giving at length her entire +pedigree. To this Dr. Pigrum made a reply as follows: "Dr. Pigrum's +compliments to Miss Altifiorla, and is happy to learn the name of +her great grandmother." Dr. Pigrum was supposed to be a wag, and the +letter soon became the joint property of all the ladies in the Close. + +This interfered much with Miss Altifiorla's happiness. She even went +across to Cecilia, complaining of the great injustice done to her by +the Cathedral clergymen generally. "Men from whom one should expect +charity instead of scandal, but that their provincial ignorance is so +narrow!" Then she went on to remind Cecilia how much older was the +Roman branch of her family than even the blood of the Geraldines. +"You oughtn't to have talked about it," said Cecilia, who in her +present state of joy did not much mind Miss Altifiorla and her +husband. "Do you suppose that I intend to be married under a bushel?" +said Miss Altifiorla grandly. But this little episode only tended to +renew the feeling of enmity between the ladies. + +But there appeared a paragraph in the "Western Telegraph" which +drove Miss Altifiorla nearly mad: "It is understood that one of the +aristocracy in this county is soon about to be married to a lady who +has long lived among us in Exeter. Sir Francis Geraldine is the happy +man, and Miss Altifiorla is the lady about to become Lady Geraldine. +Miss Altifiorla is descended from an Italian family of considerable +note in its own country. Her great grandmother was a Fiasco, and her +great great grandmother a Disgrazia. We are delighted to find that +Sir Francis is to ally himself to a lady of such high birth." Now +Miss Altifiorla was well aware that there was an old feud between Sir +Francis and the "Western Telegraph," and she observed also that the +paper made allusion to the very same relatives whom she had named in +her unfortunate letter to Dr. Pigrum. "The vulgarity of the people +of this town is quite unbearable," she exclaimed to Mrs. Green. But +when she was left alone she at once wrote a funnier letter than ever +to Sir Francis. It might be that Sir Francis should not see the +paragraph. At any rate she did not mention it. + +But unfortunately Sir Francis did see the paragraph; and, +unfortunately also, he had not appreciated the wit of Miss +Altifiorla's letters. "Oh, laws!" he had been heard to ejaculate on +receipt of a former letter. + +"It's the kind of thing a man has to put up with when he gets +married," said Captain McCollop, a gentleman who had already in some +sort succeeded Dick Ross. + +"I don't suppose you think a man ever ought to be married." + +"Quite the contrary. When a man has a property he must be married. I +suppose I shall have the McCollop acres some of these days myself." +The McCollop acres were said to lie somewhere in Caithness, but no +one knew their exact locality. "But a man will naturally put off the +evil day as long as he can. I should have thought that you might have +allowed yourself to run another five years yet." The flattery did +touch Sir Francis, and he began to ask himself whether he had gone +too far with Miss Altifiorla. Then came the "Western Telegraph," and +he told himself that he had gone too far. + +"By G----, she has told everybody in that beastly hole," said he. The +"beastly hole" was intended to represent Exeter. + +"Of course she has. You didn't suppose but that she would begin to +wear her honour and glory as soon as they were wearable." + +"She pledged herself not to mention it to a single soul," said Sir +Francis. Upon this Captain McCollop merely shrugged his shoulders. +"I'm d----d if I put up with it. Look here! All her filthy +progenitors put into the newspaper to show how grand she is." + +"I shouldn't care so very much about that," said the cautious +Captain, who began to perceive that he need not be specially bitter +against the lady. + +"You're not going to marry her." + +"Well, no; that's true." + +"Nor am I," said Sir Francis with an air of great decision. "She +hasn't got a word of mine in writing to show,--not a word that would +go for anything with a jury." + +"Hasn't she indeed?" + +"Not a word. I have taken precious good care of that. Between you and +me, I don't mind acknowledging it. But it had never come to more than +that." + +"Then in fact you are not bound to her." + +"No; I am not;--not what I call bound. She's a handsome woman you +know,--very handsome." + +"I suppose so." + +"And she'd do the drawing-room well, and the sitting at the top of +the table, and all that kind of thing." + +"But it's such a deuced heavy price to pay," said Captain McCollop. + +"I should not have minded the price," said Sir Francis, not quite +understanding his friend's remark, "if she hadn't made me ridiculous +in this way. The Fiascos and the Disgrazias! What the devil are they +to our old English families? If she had let it remain as it was, +I might have gone through with it. But as she has told all Exeter +and got that stuff put into the newspapers, she must take the +consequences. One is worse than another, as far as I can see." By +this Sir Francis intended to express his opinion that Miss Altifiorla +was at any rate quite as bad as Cecilia Holt. + +But the next thing to be decided was the mode of escape. Though Sir +Francis had declared that he was not what he called bound, yet he +knew that he must take some steps in the matter to show that he +considered himself to be free; and as the Captain was a clever man, +and well conversant with such things, he was consulted. "I should +say, take a run abroad for a short time," said the Captain. + +"Is that necessary?" + +"You'd avoid some of the disagreeables. People will talk, and your +relatives at Exeter might kick up a row." + +"Oh, d---- my relatives." + +"With all my heart. But people have such a way of making themselves +disgusting. What do you say to taking a run through the States?" + +"Would you go with me?" asked the Baronet. + +"If you wish it I shouldn't mind," said the Captain considerately. +"Only to do any good we should be off quickly. But you must write to +some one first." + +"Before I start, you think?" + +"Oh, yes;--certainly. If she didn't hear from you before you went, +you'd be persecuted by her letters." + +"There is no end to her letters. I've quite made up my mind what I'll +do about them. I won't open one of them. After all, why should she +write to me when the affair is over? You've heard of Mrs. Western, I +suppose?" + +"Yes; I've heard of her." + +"I didn't write to her when that affair was over. I didn't pester her +with long-winded scrawls. She changed her mind, and I've changed +mine; and so we're equal. I've paid her, and she can pay me if she +knows how." + +"I hope Miss Altifiorla will look at it in the same light," said the +Captain. + +"Why shouldn't she? She knew all about it when that other affair +came to an end. I wasn't treated with any particular ceremony. The +truth is, people don't look at these things now as they used to do. +Men and women mostly do as they like till they've absolutely fixed +themselves. There used to be duels and all that kind of nonsense. +There is none of that now." + +"No; you won't get shot." + +"I don't mind being shot any more than another man; but you must take +the world as you find it. One young woman treated me awfully rough, +to tell the truth. And why am I not to treat another just as roughly? +If you look at it all round, you'll see that I have used them just as +they have used me." + +"At any rate," said Captain McCollop, after a pause, "if you have +made up your mind, you'd better write the letter." + +Sir Francis did not see the expediency of writing the letter +immediately, but at last he gave way to his friend's arguments. And +he did so the more readily as his friend was there to write the +letter for him. After some attempts on his own part, he put the +writing of the letter into the hands of the Captain, and left him +alone for an entire morning to perform the task. The letter when it +was sent, after many corrections and revises, ran as follows:-- + + + MY DEAR MISS ALTIFIORLA,--I think that I am bound in + honour without a moment's delay to make you aware of the + condition of my mind in regard to marriage. I ain't quite + sure but what I shall be better without it altogether.-- + + +"I'd rather marry her twice over than let my cousin have the title +and the property," said the Baronet with energy. "You needn't tell +her that," said McCollop. "Of course when you've cleared the ground +in this quarter you can begin again with another lady." + + + --I think that perhaps I may have expressed myself badly + so as to warrant you in understanding more than I have + meant. If so, I am sure the fault has been mine, and I am + very sorry for it. Things have turned up with which I need + not perhaps trouble you, and compel me to go for a while + to a very distant country. I shall be off almost before + I can receive a reply to this letter. Indeed, I may be + gone before an answer can reach me. But I have thought it + right not to let a post go by without informing you of my + decision. + + I have seen that article in the Exeter newspaper + respecting your family in Italy, and think that it must + be very gratifying to you. I did understand, however, + that not a word was to have been spoken as to the matter. + Nothing had escaped from me, at any rate. I fear that + some of your intimate friends at Exeter must have been + indiscreet. + + Believe me yours, + With the most sincere admiration, + + FRANCIS GERALDINE. + + +He was not able to start for America immediately after writing this, +but he quitted his Lodge in Scotland, leaving no immediate address, +and hid himself for a while among his London clubs, where he trusted +that the lady might not find him. In a week's time he would be off to +the United States. + +Who shall picture the rage of Miss Altifiorla when she received +this letter? This was the very danger which she had feared, but had +hardly thought it worth her while to fear. It was the one possible +break-down in her triumph; but had been, she thought, so unlikely as +to be hardly possible. But now on reading the letter she felt that +no redress was within her reach. To whom should she go for succour? +Though her ancestors had been so noble, she had no one near her to +take up the cudgels on her behalf. With her friends in Exeter she had +become a little proud of late, so that she had turned from her those +who might have assisted her. "The coward!" she said to herself, "the +base coward! He dares to treat me in this way because he knows that +I am alone." Then she became angry in her heart against Cecilia, who +she felt had set a dangerous example in this practice of jilting. Had +Cecilia not treated Sir Francis so unceremoniously he certainly would +not have dared so to treat her. There was truth in this, as in that +case Sir Francis would at this moment have been the husband of Mrs. +Western. + +But what should she do? She took out every scrap of letter that she +had received from the man, and read each scrap with the greatest +care. In the one letter there certainly was an offer very plainly +made, as he had intended it; but she doubted whether she could depend +upon it in a court of law. "Don't you think that you and I know each +other well enough to make a match of it?" It was certainly written +as an offer, and her two answers to him would make it plain that it +was so. But she had an idea that she would not be allowed to use her +own letters against him. And then to have her gushing words read as +a reply to so cold a proposition would be death to her. There was +not another syllable in the whole correspondence written by him to +signify that he had in truth intended to become her husband. She felt +sure that he had been wickedly crafty in the whole matter, and had +lured her on to expose herself in her innocence. + +But what should she do? Should she write to him an epistle full of +tenderness? She felt sure that it would be altogether ineffectual. +Should she fill sheets with indignation? It would be of no use unless +she could follow up her indignation by strong measures. Should she +let the thing pass by in silence, as though she and Sir Francis had +never known each other? She would certainly do so, but that she +had allowed her matrimonial prospects to become common through all +Exeter. She must also let Exeter know how badly Sir Francis intended +to treat her. To her, too, the idea of a prolonged sojourn in the +United States presented itself. In former days there had come upon +her a great longing to lecture at Chicago, at Saint Paul's, and +Omaha, on the distinctive duties of the female sex. Now again the +idea returned to her. She thought that in one of those large Western +halls, full of gas and intelligence, she could rise to the height of +her subject with a tremendous eloquence. But then would not the name +of Sir Francis travel with her and crush her? + +She did resolve upon informing Mrs. Green. She took three days to +think of it, and then she sent for Mrs. Green. "Of all human beings," +she said, "you, I think, are the truest to me." Mrs. Green of course +expressed herself as much flattered. "And therefore I will tell you. +No false pride shall operate with me to make me hold my tongue. Of +all the false deceivers that have ever broken a woman's heart, that +man is the basest and the falsest." + +In this way she let all Exeter know that she was not to be married to +Sir Francis Geraldine; and another paragraph appeared in the "Western +Telegraph," declaring that after all Sir Francis Geraldine was not to +be allied to the Fiascos and Disgrazias of Rome. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +CONCLUSION. + + +Though the news of Miss Altifiorla's broken engagement did reach Mrs. +Western at St. David's, she was in a state of mind which prevented +her almost from recognising the fact. It was the very day on which +her husband was to come to her. And her joy was so extreme as almost +to have become painful. "Mamma," she said, "I shall not know what to +say to him." + +"Just let him come and receive him quietly." + +"Receive him quietly! How can I be quiet when he will have come back +to me? I think you do not realise the condition I have been in during +the last three months." + +"Yes, my dear, I do. You have been deserted, and it has been very +bad." + +But Mrs. Western did not approve of the word used, as it carried a +strong reproach against her husband. She was anxious now to take +upon herself the whole weight of the fault which had produced their +separation, and to hold him to have been altogether sinless. And +as yet she was not quite sure that he would again take her to his +home. All she knew was that he would be that day in Exeter, and that +then so much might depend on her own conduct. Of this she was quite +sure,--that were he to reject her she must die. In her present +condition, and with the memory present to her of the dreams she had +dreamed, she could not live alone at Exeter, divided from him, and +there give birth to her child. But he must surely intend to take her +into his arms when he should arrive. It could not be possible that he +should again reject her when he had once seen her. + +Then she became fidgety about her personal appearance,--a female +frailty which had never much prevailed with her,--and was anxious +even about her ribbons and her dress. "He does think so much about a +woman being neat," she said to her mother. + +"I never perceived it in him, my dear." + +"Because you have not known him as I have done. He does not say much, +but no one's eye is so accurate and so severe." All this arose from a +certain passage which dwelt in her remembrance, when he had praised +the fit of her gown, and had told her with a kiss that no woman ever +dressed so well as she did. + +"I think, my dear," continued Mrs. Holt, "that if you wear your black +silk just simply, it will do very well." + +Simply! Yes; she must certainly be simple. But it is so hard to be +simple in such a way as to please a man's eye. And yet, even when the +time came near, she did not dare to remain long in her bedroom lest +her own maid should know the source of her anxiety. At one time she +had declared that she would go down to the station to meet him, but +that idea had been soon abandoned. The first kiss she would give him +should not be seen by strangers. + +But if she were perplexed as to how she would bear herself on the +coming occasion he was much more so. It may be said of him, that +through his whole journey home from Dresden he was disturbed, +unhappy, and silent. And that when his sister left him in London, +and that he had nothing immediately before him but the journey down +to Exeter, he was almost overwhelmed by the difficulties of the +situation. His case as a man was so much worse than hers as a woman. +The speaking must all be done by him, and what was there that he +could say? There was still present to him a keen sense of the wrong +that he had endured; though he owned to himself that the punishment +which at the spur of the moment he had resolved upon inflicting was +too severe,--both upon her and upon himself. And though he felt +that he had been injured, he did gradually acknowledge that he had +believed something worse than the truth. How to read the riddle he +did not know, but there was a riddle which he had not read aright. If +Cecilia should still be silent, he must still be left in the dark. +But he did understand that he was to expect no confession of a fault, +and that he was to exact no show of repentance. + +When the train arrived at Exeter he determined to be driven at once +to the Hotel. It made him unhappy to think that everyone around him +should be aware that he was occupying rooms at an inn while his wife +was living in the town; but he did not dare to take his portmanteau +to Mrs. Holt's house and hang up his hat in her hall as though +nothing had been the matter. "Put it into a cab," he said to a porter +as the door was opened, "and bid him drive to the Clarence." + +But a man whose face he remembered had laid his hand upon his valise +before it was well out of the railway carriage. "Please, Sir," said +the man, "you are to go up to the house, and I'm to carry your +things. I am Sam Barnet, the gardener." + +"Very well, Sam," said Mr. Western. "Go on and I'll follow you." Now, +as he well knew, the house at St. David's was less than half a mile +from the railway station. + +He felt that his misery would be over in ten minutes, and yet for +ten minutes how miserable a man he was! Whilst she was trembling +with joy, a joy that was only dashed by a vague fear of his possible +sternness, he was blaming his fate as it shortened by every step the +distance between him and his wife. At last he had entered the path +of the little garden, and the door of the house was open before him. +He ventured to look, but did not see her. He was in the hall, but +yet he did not see her. "Cecilia is in the breakfast parlour," said +the voice of Mrs. Holt, whom in his confusion he did not notice. The +breakfast parlour was in the back part of the house, looking out into +the garden, and thither he went. The door was just ajar and he passed +in. In a second the whole trouble was over. She was in his arms at +once, kissing his face, stroking his hair, leaning on his bosom, +holding his arm round her own waist as though to make sure that he +should not leave her; crying and laughing at the same moment. "Oh, +George, my own George! It has all been my doing; but you will forgive +me! Say that one word that I am 'forgiven.'" Then there came another +storm of kisses which frustrated the possibility of his speaking to +her. + +What a wife she was to possess! How graceful, how gracious, how +precious were her charms,--charms in which no other woman surely ever +approached her! How warm and yet how cool was the touch of her lips; +how absolutely symmetrical was the sweet curve of her bust; what a +fragrance came from her breath! And the light of her eyes, made more +bright by her tears, shone into his with a heavenly brightness. Her +soft hair as he touched it filled him with joy. And once more she +was all his own. Let the secret be what it might, he was quite sure +that she was his own. As he bent down over her she pressed her cheek +against his and again drew his arm tighter round her waist. "George, +if you wished to know how I love you, you have taken the right step. +I have been sick for you, but now I shall be sick no longer. Oh, +George, it was my fault; but say that you have forgiven me." + +He could not bring himself to speak so much of an accusation as would +be contained in that word "forgive." How was he to pardon one whose +present treatment to him was so perfect, so loving, and so lovely? +"Sit down, George, and let me tell you how it was. Of course I was +wrong, but I did not mean to be wrong." + +"No, no," he said. "There shall be no wrong." And yet why had not +his sister told him that it would be like this? Why had she so +stoutly maintained that Cecilia would confess nothing. Here she was +acknowledging everything with most profuse confession. What could any +man desire more? "Do not speak of it;--at any rate now. Let me be +happy as I have got you." + +Then there was another storm of kisses, but she was not to be put +off from her purpose. "You must know it all. Sit down;--there, like +that." And she seated herself, leaning back upon him on the sofa. +"Before we had been abroad I had been engaged to that man." + +"Yes;--I understand that." + +"I had been engaged to him,--without knowing him. Then when I found +that he was not what I thought him, I made up my mind that it would +be better to throw him over than make us both miserable for life." + +"Certainly." + +"And I did so. I made a struggle and did it. From that time to this +I have had nothing to say to him,--nor he to me. You may say that I +treated him badly." + +"I don't say so. I, at any rate, do not say so." + +"My own, own man. Then we went abroad, and as good fortune would have +it you came in our way. It was not long before you made me love you. +That was not my fault, George. I loved you so dearly when you were +telling me that story about the other girl;--but, somehow, I could +not tell you then a similar story about myself. It seemed at first so +odd that my story should be the same, and then it looked almost as +though I were mocking you. Had you had no story to tell, you would +have known all my own before I had allowed myself to be made happy by +your love. Do you not perceive that it was so?" + +"Yes," he said, slowly, "I can understand what you mean." + +"But it was a mistake; for from day to day the difficulty grew upon +me, and when once there was a difficulty, I was not strong enough to +overcome it. There never came the moment in which I was willing to +mar my own happiness by telling you that which I thought would wound +yours. I had not dreamed beforehand how much more difficult it would +become when I should once be absolutely your wife. Then your sister +came and she told me. She is better than anybody in the world except +yourself." + +"All women are better than I am," he said. "It is their nature to be +so." + +Some half-ludicrous idea of Miss Altifiorla and her present +difficulties came across her mind, as she contradicted his assertion +with another shower of kisses. "She told me," continued Cecilia, +"that I was bound to let you know all the truth. Of course I knew +that; of course I intended it. But that odious woman was in the +house, and I could not tell you till she was gone. Then he came." + +"Why did he come?" + +"He had no right to come. No man with the smallest spirit would have +shown himself at your door. I have thought about it again and again, +and I can only imagine that it has been his intention to revenge +himself. But what matter his intentions so long as they do not come +between you and me? I want you to know all the truth, but not to +imagine more than the truth. Since the day on which I had told him +that he and I must part, there has been no communication between us +but what you know. He came to Durton and made his way into the house, +and Miss Altifiorla was there and saw it all; and then you were +told." + +"He is a mean brute." + +"But I am not a brute. Am I a brute? Say that I am nice once more. +You know everything now,--everything, everything. I do own that I +have been wrong to conceal it. My very soul should be laid bare to +you." + +"Cecilia, I will never be hard to you again." + +"I do not say that you have been hard. I do not accuse you. I know +that I have been wrong, and I am quite content that we should again +be friends. Oh, George, just at this moment I think it is sweeter +than if you had never sent me away." + +And so the reconciliation was made, and Mr. Western and Cecilia were +once more together. But no doubt to her mind, as she thought of it +all, there was present the happy conviction that she had been more +sinned against than sinning. She had forgiven, whereas she might have +exacted forgiveness. She had been gracious, whereas she might have +followed her mother's advice and have been repellent till she had +brought him to her feet. As it was, her strong desire to have him +once again had softened her, and now she had the double reward. She +had what she wanted, and was able to congratulate herself at the same +time on her virtue. But he, though he had too what he wanted, became +gradually aware that he had been cruel, stiff-necked, and obdurate. +She was everything that he desired, but he was hardly happy because +he was conscious that he had been unjust. And he was a man that loved +justice even against himself, and could not be quite happy till he +had made restitution. + +He stayed a week with her at Exeter, during which time he so far +recovered himself as to be able to dine at the deanery, and return +Dr. Pigrum's call. Then he was to start for his own house in +Berkshire, having asked Mrs. Holt to come to them a fortnight before +Christmas. He would have called on Miss Altifiorla had he not +understood that Miss Altifiorla in her present state of mind received +no visitors. She gave it out that since men had been men and women +had been women, no woman had been so basely injured as herself. But +she intended to redress the wrongs of her sex by a great movement, +and was devoting herself at present to hard study with that object. +She used to be seen daily walking two miles and back on the Crediton +Road, it being necessary to preserve her health for the sake of the +great work she had in hand. But it was understood that no one was to +accost her, or speak to her on these occasions, and at other times it +was well known that she was engaged upon the labours of her task. + +"And to-morrow we will go back to Durton," said Mr. Western to his +wife. + +"Dear Durton, how happy I shall be to see it once again!" + +"And how happy I shall be to take you again to see it! But before we +go it is necessary that I should say one thing." + +This he spoke in so stern a voice that he almost frightened her. Was +it possible that after all he should find it necessary to refer again +to the little fault which she had so cordially avowed? + +"What is it, George?" + +"I have made a mistake." + +"No, George, no, don't say so. There has been no mistake. A man +should own nothing. I have thought about it and am sure of it." + +"Let a man commit no fault, and then what you say will be true. I +made a mistake, and allowed myself to be so governed by it as to +commit a great injustice. I am aware of it, and I trust I may never +repeat it. Such a mistake as that I think that I shall never commit +again. But I did it, and I ask you to forgive me." In answer to this +she could only embrace him and hang upon him, and implore him in +silence to spare her. "So it has been, and I ask your pardon." + +"No, George, no; no." + +"Will you not pardon me when I ask you?" + +"I cannot bring myself to say such a word. You know that it is all +right between us. I cannot speak the word which you shall never be +made to hear. I am the happiest woman now in all England, and you +must not force me to say that which shall in any way lessen my +glory." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK KEPT IN THE DARK*** + + +******* This file should be named 22000.txt or 22000.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/0/0/22000 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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