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diff --git a/29828-h/29828-h.htm b/29828-h/29828-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d03ec83 --- /dev/null +++ b/29828-h/29828-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,24706 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/html4/loose.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Is He Popenjoy?, by Anthony Trollope</title> + <style type="text/css"> + +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .adtext {font-size:1.1em;line-height: 2.5em; text-align: left;display: block; text-indent: -1em;margin-left:1.1em;} + .adcenter {font-size:1.1em;text-align: center;display: block; padding-top:.5em;} + .newpg {page-break-before: always;} + + .chapterhead {margin: auto; font-weight: bold; text-align: center;} + + .firstwords {font-variant:small-caps;font-size:1.2em;font-weight:bold;} + + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .start {text-align: right;} + .letterstart {display: block;padding-right: 1em;} + .preclosing {text-align: left;} + .presignaturea {display: block;padding-left: 1em;} + .presignatureb {display: block;padding-left: 7em;} + + .closing {text-align: right;} + .presignature1 {display: block;padding-right: 14em;} + .presignature1long {display: block;padding-right: 7em;} + .presignature2 {display: block;padding-right: 5em;} + .presignature3 {display: block;padding-right: 1em; padding-top:.25em;} + + #titlepage {margin:2em 0; padding:2em; border:4px double black;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + span.smaller {font-size:.75em;} + span.tiny {font-size:.5em;} + .toc {text-align: left;font-weight: bold;font-size:1em;} + .tocchapter {text-align: center; font-size:1.25em;} + + hr.full { width: 100%; + height: 5px; } + pre {font-size: 85%; } + --> + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Is He Popenjoy?, by Anthony Trollope</h1> +<pre> +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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Is He Popenjoy?</p> +<p>Author: Anthony Trollope</p> +<p>Release Date: August 28, 2009 [eBook #29828]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IS HE POPENJOY?***</p> +<br><br><center><h3>E-text prepared by David Edwards, Linda Hamilton,<br> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br> + (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net/c/">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br> + from page images generously made available by<br> + Internet Archive<br> + (<a href="http://www.archive.org">http://www.archive.org</a>)</h3></center><br><br> +<p> </p> +<table border=0 bgcolor="ccccff" cellpadding=10> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive. See + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/ishepopenjoy00troluoft"> + http://www.archive.org/details/ishepopenjoy00troluoft</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<!-- Page i --> + +<div id="titlepage" class="newpg"> +<h1>IS HE POPENJOY?</h1> + +<h3>BY</h3> + +<h2>ANTHONY TROLLOPE,</h2> + +<p class="center">AUTHOR OF "DOCTOR THORNE," <a name="tn_pg_2"></a><!-- TN: changed single quote to double after "MINISTER"-->"THE PRIME MINISTER," "ORLEY FARM,"<br> +&C., &C.</p> +<p> </p> +<p class="center">THIRD EDITION.</p> +<p> </p><p> </p> + +<p class="center">LONDON:</p> + +<p class="center">CHAPMAN & HALL, 193, PICCADILLY. +1879.</p> + +<p class="center">[<i>All Rights Reserved.</i>]</p> +</div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<!-- Page ii --> +<p class="center">LONDON:<br> +BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS</p> + +<!-- Page iii --> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table border="0" width="80%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="Contents" align="center"> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="bottom"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER I.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="bottom"> +<td align="right" valign="bottom" colspan="2"><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr valign="top"> + <td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">INTRODUCTORY.—NUMBER ONE 1</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">1</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="bottom"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER II.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> + <td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">INTRODUCTORY.—NUMBER TWO</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">7</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="bottom"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER III.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> + <td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">LIFE AT MANOR CROSS</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">13</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="bottom"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER IV.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> + <td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">AT THE DEANERY</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">20</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="bottom"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER V.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> + <td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">MISS TALLOWAX IS SHOWN THE HOUSE</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">26</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="bottom"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER VI.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> + <td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">BAD TIDINGS</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">34</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="bottom"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER VII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> + <td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">CROSS HALL GATE</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">41</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="bottom"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER VIII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> + <td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">PUGSBY BROOK</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">47</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="bottom"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER IX.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> + <td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">MRS. HOUGHTON</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">52</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="bottom"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter"><!-- Page iv -->CHAPTER X.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> + <td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">THE DEAN AS A SPORTING MAN</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">61</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="bottom"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter"><!-- Page iv -->CHAPTER XI.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> + <td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">LORD AND LADY GEORGE GO UP TO TOWN</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">66</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="bottom"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> + <td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">MISS MILDMAY AND JACK DE BARON</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">72</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="bottom"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XIII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> + <td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">MORE NEWS FROM ITALY</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">79</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="bottom"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XIV.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> + <td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">"ARE WE TO CALL HIM POPENJOY?"</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">85</a></td> +</tr> + + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="bottom"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XV.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> + <td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">"DROP IT"</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">93</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="bottom"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XVI.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> + <td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">ALL IS FISH THAT COMES TO HIS NET</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">100</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="bottom"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XVII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">THE DISABILITIES</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">106</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XVIII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">LORD GEORGE UP IN LONDON</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">112</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XIX.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">RATHER "BOISTEROUS"</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">119</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XX.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">BETWEEN TWO STOOLS</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">126</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XXI.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">THE MARQUIS COMES HOME</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">132</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter"><!-- Page v -->CHAPTER XXII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">THE MARQUIS AMONG HIS FRIENDS</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">139</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XXIII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">THE MARQUIS SEES HIS BROTHER</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">146</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XXIV.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">THE MARQUIS GOES INTO BROTHERTON</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">153</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XXV.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">LADY SUSANNA IN LONDON</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">159</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XXVI.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">THE DEAN RETURNS TO TOWN</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">166</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XXVII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">THE BARONESS BANMANN AGAIN</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">173</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XXVIII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">"WHAT MATTER IF SHE DOES?" </span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">180</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XXIX.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">MR. HOUGHTON WANTS A GLASS OF SHERRY</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">186</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XXX.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">THE DEAN IS VERY BUSY</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">193</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XXXI.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">THE MARQUIS MIGRATES TO LONDON</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">198</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XXXII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">LORD GEORGE IS TROUBLED</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">205</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XXXIII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">CAPTAIN DE BARON</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">213</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter"><!-- Page vi -->CHAPTER XXXIV.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">A DREADFUL COMMUNICATION</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">220</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XXXV.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">"I DENY IT"</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">226</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XXXVI.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">POPENJOY IS POPENJOY</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">235</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XXXVII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">PREPARATIONS FOR THE BALL</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">241</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XXXVIII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">THE KAPPA-KAPPA</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">248</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XXXIX.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">REBELLION</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">254</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XL.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">AS TO BLUEBEARD</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XL">260</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XLI.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">SCUMBERG'S</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">268</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XLII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">"NOT GO!" </span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">276</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XLIII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">REAL LOVE</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">284</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XLIV.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">WHAT THE BROTHERTON CLERGYMEN SAID ABOUT IT</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">288</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XLV.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">LADY GEORGE AT THE DEANERY</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">293</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter"><!-- Page vii -->CHAPTER XLVI.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">LADY SARAH'S MISSION</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">298</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XLVII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">THAT YOUNG FELLOW IN THERE</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">307</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XLVIII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">THE MARQUIS MAKES A PROPOSITION</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">312</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER XLIX.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">"WOULDN'T YOU COME HERE;—FOR A WEEK?"</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIX">320</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER L.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">RUDHAM PARK</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_L">325</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER LI.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">GUSS MILDMAY'S SUCCESS</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_LI">333</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER LII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">ANOTHER LOVER</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_LII">341</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER LIII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">POOR POPENJOY! </span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_LIII">346</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER LIV.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">JACK DE BARON'S VIRTUE</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_LIV">352</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER LV.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">HOW COULD HE HELP IT? </span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_LV">357</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER LVI.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">SIR HENRY SAID IT WAS THE ONLY THING</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_LVI">365</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER LVII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">MR. KNOX HEARS AGAIN FROM THE MARQUIS</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_LVII">372</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter"><!-- Page viii -->CHAPTER LVIII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">MRS. JONES' LETTER</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_LVIII">378</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER LIX.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">BACK IN LONDON</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_LIX">384</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER LX.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">THE LAST OF THE BARONESS</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_LX">391</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER LXI.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">THE NEWS COMES HOME</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_LXI">397</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER LXII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">THE WILL</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_LXII">405</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER LXIII.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">POPENJOY IS BORN AND CHRISTENED</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_LXIII">410</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td colspan="2" align="center" valign="top"><span class="tiny"> </span><br><span class="tocchapter">CHAPTER LXIV.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr valign="top"> +<td align="left" style="width: 75%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"> +<span class="toc">CONCLUSION</span></td> +<td align="right" style="width: 16.67%; padding-bottom: 0!important;"><a href="#CHAPTER_LXIV">418</a></td> +</tr> + + +</table> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"><!-- Page 1 --> +<h1>IS HE POPENJOY?</h1> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">INTRODUCTORY.—NUMBER ONE.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">I would</span> that it were possible so to tell a story that a reader should +beforehand know every detail of it up to a certain point, or be so +circumstanced that he might be supposed to know. In telling the little +novelettes of our life, we commence our narrations with the presumption +that these details are borne in mind, and though they be all +forgotten, the stories come out intelligible at last. "You remember +Mary Walker. Oh yes, you do;—that pretty girl, but such a queer +temper! And how she was engaged to marry Harry Jones, and said +she wouldn't at the church-door, till her father threatened her with +bread and water; and how they have been living ever since as happy +as two turtle-doves down in Devonshire,—till that scoundrel, Lieutenant +Smith, went to Bideford! Smith has been found dead at the bottom +of a saw-pit. Nobody's sorry for him. She's in a madhouse at Exeter; +and Jones has disappeared, and couldn't have had more than thirty +shillings in his pocket." This is quite as much as anybody ought to +want to know previous to the unravelling of the tragedy of the Jones's. +But such stories as those I have to tell cannot be written after that +fashion. We novelists are constantly twitted with being long; and +to the gentlemen who condescend to review us, and who take up our +volumes with a view to business rather than pleasure, we must be +infinite in length and tedium. But the story must be made intelligible +from the beginning, or the real novel readers will not like it. The +plan of jumping at once into the middle has been often tried, and +sometimes seductively enough for a chapter or two; but the writer +still has to hark back, and to begin again from the beginning,—not +always very comfortably after the abnormal brightness of his few +opening pages; and the reader who is then involved in some ancient +family history, or long local explanation, feels himself to have been +defrauded. It is as though one were asked to eat boiled mutton after +woodcocks, caviare, or maccaroni cheese. I hold that it is better to +have the boiled mutton first, if boiled mutton there must be.<!-- Page 2 --></p> + +<p>The story which I have to tell is something in its nature akin to that +of poor Mrs. Jones, who was happy enough down in Devonshire till +that wicked Lieutenant Smith came and persecuted her; not quite so +tragic, perhaps, as it is stained neither by murder nor madness. But +before I can hope to interest readers in the perplexed details of the +life of a not unworthy lady, I must do more than remind them that +they do know, or might have known, or should have known the +antecedents of my personages. I must let them understand how it +came to pass that so pretty, so pert, so gay, so good a girl as Mary +Lovelace, without any great fault on her part, married a man so grim, +so gaunt, so sombre, and so old as Lord George Germain. It will not +suffice to say that she had done so. A hundred and twenty little +incidents must be dribbled into the reader's intelligence, many of +them, let me hope, in such manner that he shall himself be insensible +to the process. But unless I make each one of them understood and +appreciated by my ingenious, open-hearted, rapid reader,—by my +reader who will always have his fingers impatiently ready to turn the +page,—he will, I know, begin to masticate the real kernel of my story +with infinite prejudices against Mary Lovelace.</p> + +<p>Mary Lovelace was born in a country parsonage; but at the age of +fourteen, when her life was in truth beginning, was transferred by her +father to the deanery of Brotherton. Dean Lovelace had been a fortunate +man in life. When a poor curate, a man of very humble origin, +with none of what we commonly call Church interest, with nothing to +recommend him but a handsome person, moderate education, and a +quick intellect, he had married a lady with a considerable fortune, +whose family had bought for him a living. Here he preached himself +into fame. It is not at all to be implied from this that he had not +deserved the fame he acquired. He had been active and resolute in +his work, holding opinions which, if not peculiar, were at any rate +advanced, and never being afraid of the opinions which he held. His +bishop had not loved him, nor had he made himself dear to the bench +of bishops generally. He had the reputation of having been in early +life a sporting parson. He had written a book which had been characterised +as tending to infidelity, and had more than once been invited +to state dogmatically what was his own belief. He had never quite +done so, and had then been made a dean. Brotherton, as all the +world knows, is a most interesting little city, neither a Manchester +nor a Salisbury; full of architectural excellencies, given to literature, +and fond of hospitality. The Bishop of Brotherton,—who did not love +the dean,—was not a general favourite, being strict, ascetic, and utterly +hostile to all compromises. At first there were certain hostile passages +between him and the new dean. But the Dean, who was and +is urbanity itself, won the day, and soon became certainly the +most popular man in Brotherton. His wife's fortune doubled his +clerical income, and he lived in all respects as a dean ought to live.<!-- Page 3 --> +His wife had died very shortly after his promotion, and he had been +left with one only daughter on whom to lavish his cares and his +affection.</p> + +<p>Now we must turn for a few lines to the family of Lord George +Germain. Lord George was the brother of the Marquis of Brotherton, +whose family residence was at Manor Cross, about nine miles from the +city. The wealth of the family of the Germains was not equal to +their rank, and the circumstances of the family were not made more +comfortable by the peculiarities of the present marquis. He was an +idle, self-indulgent, ill-conditioned man, who found that it suited his +tastes better to live in Italy, where his means were ample, than on his +own property, where he would have been comparatively a poor man. +And he had a mother and four sisters, and a brother with whom he +would hardly have known how to deal had he remained at Manor +Cross. As it was, he allowed them to keep the house, while he simply +took the revenue of the estate. With the marquis I do not know that +it will be necessary to trouble the reader much at present. The old +marchioness and her daughters lived always at Manor Cross in possession +of a fine old house in which they could have entertained half the +county, and a magnificent park,—which, however, was let for grazing +up to the garden-gates,—and a modest income unequal to the splendour +which should have been displayed by the inhabitants of Manor Cross.</p> + +<p>And here also lived Lord George Germain, to whom at a very early +period of his life had been entrusted the difficult task of living as the +head of his family with little or no means for the purpose. When +the old Marquis died,—very suddenly, and soon after the Dean's coming +to Brotherton,—the widow had her jointure, some two thousand a year, +out of the property, and the younger children had each a small +settled sum. That the four ladies,—Sarah, Alice, Susanna, and Amelia,—should +have sixteen thousand pounds among them, did not seem to +be so very much amiss to those who knew how poor was the Germain +family; but what was Lord George to do with four thousand pounds, +and no means of earning a shilling? He had been at Eton, and had +taken a degree at Oxford with credit, but had gone into no profession. +There was a living in the family, and both father and mother had hoped +that he would consent to take orders; but he had declined to do so, +and there had seemed to be nothing for him but to come and live at +Manor Cross. Then the old Marquis had died, and the elder brother, +who had long been abroad, remained abroad. Lord George, who was +the youngest of the family, and at that time about five-and-twenty, +remained at Manor Cross, and became not only ostensibly but in very +truth the managing head of the family.</p> + +<p>He was a man whom no one could despise, and in whom few could +find much to blame. In the first place he looked his poverty in the +face, and told himself that he was a very poor man. His bread he +might earn by looking after his mother and sisters, and he knew no<!-- Page 4 --> +other way in which he could do so. He was a just steward, spending +nothing to gratify his own whims, acknowledging on all sides that he +had nothing of his own, till some began to think that he was almost +proud of his poverty. Among the ladies of the family, his mother and +sisters, it was of course said that George must marry money. In such +a position there is nothing else that the younger son of a marquis can +do. But Lord George was a person somewhat difficult of instruction +in such a matter. His mother was greatly afraid of him. Among his +sisters Lady Sarah alone dared to say much to him; and even to her +teaching on this subject he turned a very deaf ear. "Quite so, +George," she said; "quite so. No man with a spark of spirit would +marry a woman for her money,"—and she laid a great stress on the +word "for,"—"but I do not see why a lady who has money should +be less fit to be loved than one who has none. Miss Barm is a most +charming young woman, of excellent manners, admirably educated, if +not absolutely handsome, quite of distinguished appearance, and she +has forty thousand pounds. We all liked her when she was here." +But there came a very black frown upon Lord George's brow, and +then even Lady Sarah did not dare to speak again in favour of Miss +Barm.</p> + +<p>Then there came a terrible blow. Lord George Germain was in love +with his cousin, Miss De Baron! It would be long to tell, and perhaps +unnecessary, how that young lady had made herself feared by the +ladies of Manor Cross. Her father, a man of birth and fortune, but +not perhaps with the best reputation in the world, had married a +Germain of the last generation, and lived, when in the country, about +twenty miles from Brotherton. He was a good deal on the turf, spent +much of his time at card-playing clubs, and was generally known as +a fast man. But he paid his way, had never put himself beyond the +pale of society, and was, of course, a gentleman. As to Adelaide de +Baron, no one doubted her dash, her wit, her grace, or her toilet. +Some also gave her credit for beauty; but there were those who said +that, though she would behave herself decently at Manor Cross and +houses of that class, she could be loud elsewhere. Such was the lady +whom Lord George loved, and it may be conceived that this passion +was distressing to the ladies of Manor Cross. In the first place, Miss +De Baron's fortune was doubtful and could not be large; and then—she +certainly was not such a wife as Lady Brotherton and her daughters +desired for the one male hope of the family.</p> + +<p>But Lord George was very resolute, and for a time it seemed to them +all that Miss de Baron,—of whom the reader will see much if he go through +with our story,—was not unwilling to share the poverty of her noble +lover. Of Lord George personally something must be said. He was +a tall, handsome, dark-browed man, silent generally and almost gloomy, +looking, as such men do, as though he were always revolving deep +things in his mind, but revolving in truth things not very deep,—how<!-- Page 5 --> +far the money would go, and whether it would be possible to get a +new pair of carriage-horses for his mother. Birth and culture had +given to him a look of intellect greater than he possessed; but I would +not have it thought that he traded on this or endeavoured to seem +other than he was. He was simple, conscientious, absolutely truthful, +full of prejudices, and weak-minded. Early in life he had been taught +to entertain certain ideas as to religion by those with whom he had +lived at college, and had therefore refused to become a clergyman. +The bishop of the diocese had attacked him; but, though weak, he was +obstinate. The Dean and he had become friends, and so he had learned +to think himself in advance of the world. But yet he knew himself +to be a backward, slow, unappreciative man. He was one who could +bear reproach from no one else, but who never praised himself even +to himself.</p> + +<p>But we must return to his love, which is that which now concerns us. +His mother and sisters altogether failed to persuade him. Week after +week he went over to Baronscourt, and at last threw himself at +Adelaide's feet. This was five years after his father's death, when he +was already thirty years old. Miss De Baron, though never a favourite +at Manor Cross, knew intimately the history of the family. The +present marquis was over forty, and as yet unmarried;—but then Lord +George was absolutely a pauper. In that way she might probably +become a marchioness; but then of what use would life be to her, +should she be doomed for the next twenty years to live simply as one +of the ladies of Manor Cross? She consulted her father, but he seemed +to be quite indifferent, merely reminding her that though he would be +ready to do everything handsomely for her wedding, she would have +no fortune till after his death. She consulted her glass, and told +herself that, without self-praise, she must regard herself as the most +beautiful woman of her own acquaintance. She consulted her heart, +and found that in that direction she need not trouble herself. It +would be very nice to be a marchioness, but she certainly was not in +love with Lord George. He was handsome, no doubt—very handsome; +but she was not sure that she cared much for men being handsome. +She liked men that "had some go in them," who were perhaps a little +fast, and who sympathised with her own desire for amusement. She +could not bring herself to fall in love with Lord George. But then, +the rank of a marquis is very high! She told Lord George that she +must take time to consider.</p> + +<p>When a young lady takes time to consider she has, as a rule, given way, +Lord George felt it to be so, and was triumphant. The ladies at Manor +Cross thought that they saw what was coming, and were despondent. +The whole county declared that Lord George was about to marry Miss +De Baron. The county feared that they would be very poor; but the +recompence would come at last, as the present marquis was known not +to be a marrying man. Lady Sarah was mute with despair. Lady<!-- Page 6 --> +Alice had declared that there was nothing for them but to make the +best of it. Lady Susanna, who had high ideas of aristocratic duty, +thought that George was forgetting himself. Lady Amelia, who had +been snubbed by Miss De Baron, shut herself up and wept. The +Marchioness took to her bed. Then, exactly at the same time, two +things happened, both of which were felt to be of vital importance at +Manor Cross. Miss De Baron wrote a most determined refusal to +her lover, and old Mr. Tallowax died. Now old Mr. Tallowax had +been Dean Lovelace's father-in-law, and had never had a child but +she who had been the Dean's wife.</p> + +<p>Lord George did in truth suffer dreadfully. There are men to whom +such a disappointment as this causes enduring physical pain,—as though +they had become suddenly affected with some acute and yet lasting +disease. And there are men, too, who suffer the more because they +cannot conceal the pain. Such a man was Lord George. He shut +himself up for months at Manor Cross, and would see no one. At +first it was his intention to try again, but very shortly after the letter +to himself came one from Miss De Baron to Lady Alice, declaring that +she was about to be married immediately to one Mr. Houghton; and +that closed the matter. Mr. Houghton's history was well known to +the Manor Cross family. He was a friend of Mr. De Baron, very +rich, almost old enough to be the girl's father, and a great gambler. But +he had a house in Berkeley Square, kept a stud of horses in Northamptonshire, +and was much thought of at Newmarket. Adelaide De Baron +explained to Lady Alice that the marriage had been made up by her +father, whose advice she had thought it her duty to take. The news +was told to Lord George, and then it was found expedient never to +mention further the name of Miss De Baron within the walls of Manor +Cross.</p> + +<p>But the death of Mr. Tallowax was also very important. Of late +the Dean of Brotherton had become very intimate at Manor Cross. +For some years the ladies had been a little afraid of him, as they were +by no means given to free opinions. But he made his way. They +were decidedly high; the bishop was notoriously low; and thus, in a +mild manner, without malignity on either side, Manor Cross and the +Palace fell out. Their own excellent young clergyman was snubbed +in reference to his church postures, and Lady Sarah was offended. +But the Dean's manners were perfect. He never trod on any one's +toes. He was rich, and as far as birth went, nobody,—but he knew +how much was due to the rank of the Germains. In all matters he +obliged them, and had lately made the deanery very pleasant to Lady +Alice,—to whom a widowed canon at Brotherton was supposed to be +partial. The interest between the deanery and Manor Cross was quite +close; and now Mr. Tallowax had died leaving the greater part of his +money to the Dean's daughter.</p> + +<p>When a man suffers from disappointed love he requires consolation.<!-- Page 7 --> +Lady Sarah boldly declared her opinion,—in female conclave of course,—that +one pretty girl is as good to a man as another, and might be a +great deal better if she were at the same time better mannered and +better dowered than the other. Mary Lovelace, when her grandfather +died, was only seventeen. Lord George was at that time over thirty. +But a man of thirty is still a young man, and a girl of seventeen may be +a young woman. If the man be not more than fifteen years older than +the woman the difference of age can hardly be regarded as an obstacle. +And then Mary was much loved at Manor Cross. She had been a +most engaging child, was clever, well-educated, very pretty, with a nice +sparkling way, fond of pleasure no doubt, but not as yet instructed to +be fast. And now she would have at once thirty thousand pounds, +and in course of time would be her father's heiress.</p> + +<p>All the ladies at Manor Cross put their heads together,—as did also +Mr. Canon Holdenough, who, while these things had been going on, +had been accepted by Lady Alice. They fooled Lord George to the +top of his bent, smoothing him down softly amidst the pangs of his +love, not suggesting Mary Lovelace at first, but still in all things acting +in that direction. And they so far succeeded that within twelve months +of the marriage of Adelaide De Baron to Mr. Houghton, when Mary +Lovelace was not yet nineteen and Lord George was thirty-three, with +some few grey hairs on his handsome head, Lord George did go over +to the deanery and offer himself as a husband to Mary Lovelace.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">INTRODUCTORY NUMBER TWO.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">"What</span> ought I to do, papa?" The proposition was in the first +instance made to Mary through the Dean. Lord George had gone to +the father, and the father with many protestations of personal goodwill, +had declared that in such a matter he would not attempt to bias +his daughter. "That the connection would be personally agreeable to +myself, I need hardly say," said the Dean. "For myself, I have no +objection to raise. But I must leave it to Mary. I can only say that +you have my permission to address her." But the first appeal to Mary +was made by her father himself, and was so made in conformity with +his own advice. Lord George, when he left the deanery, had thus +arranged it, but had been hardly conscious that the Dean had advised +such an arrangement. And it may be confessed between ourselves,—between +me and my readers, who in these introductory chapters may +be supposed to be looking back together over past things,—that the +Dean was from the first determined that Lord George should be his +son-in-law. What son-in-law could he find that would redound more to<!-- Page 8 --> +his personal credit, or better advance his personal comfort. As to his +daughter, where could a safer husband be found! And then she might +in this way become a marchioness! His own father had kept livery +stables at Bath. Her other grandfather had been a candlemaker in +the Borough. "What ought I to do, papa?" Mary asked, when the +proposition was first made to her. She of course admired the Germains, +and appreciated, at perhaps more than its full value the notice she had +received from them. She had thought Lord George to be the handsomest +man she had ever seen. She had heard of his love for Miss +De Baron, and had felt for him. She was not as yet old enough to +know how dull was the house at Manor Cross, or how little of resource +she might find in the companionship of such a man as Lord George. Of +her own money she knew almost nothing. Not as yet had her fortune +become as a carcase to the birds. And now, should she decide in Lord +George's favour, would she be saved at any rate from that danger.</p> + +<p>"You must consult your own feelings, my dear," said her father. +She looked up to him in blank dismay. She had as yet no feelings.</p> + +<p>"But, papa——"</p> + +<p>"Of course, my darling, there is a great deal to be said in favour of +such a marriage. The man himself is excellent,—in all respects excellent. +I do not know that there is a young man of higher principles +than Lord George in the whole county."</p> + +<p>"He is hardly a young man, papa."</p> + +<p>"Not a young man! <a name="tn_pg_17"></a><!-- TN: Capitalized "he"-->He is thirty. I hope you do not call that old. +I doubt whether men in his position of life should ever marry at an +earlier age. He is not rich."</p> + +<p>"Would that matter?"</p> + +<p>"No; I think not. But of that you must judge. Of course with +your fortune you would have a right to expect a richer match. But +though he has not money, he has much that money gives. He lives +in a large house with noble surroundings. The question is whether +you can like him?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, papa." Every word she spoke she uttered hesitatingly. +When she had asked whether "that would matter," she +had hardly known what she was saying. The thing was so important +to her, and yet so entirely mysterious and as yet unconsidered, that +she could not collect her thoughts sufficiently for proper answers to +her father's sensible but not too delicate inquiries. The only ideas +that had really struck her were that he was grand and handsome, but +very old.</p> + +<p>"If you can love him I think you would be happy," said the Dean. +"Of course you must look at it all round. He will probably live to +be the Marquis of Brotherton. From all that I hear I do not think +that his brother is likely to marry. In that case you would be the +Marchioness of Brotherton, and the property, though not great, would +then be handsome. In the meanwhile you would be Lady George<!-- Page 9 --> +Germain, and would live at Manor Cross. I should stipulate on your +behalf that you should have a house of your own in town, for, at any +rate, a portion of the year. Manor Cross is a fine place, but you would +find it dull if you were to remain there always. A married woman too +should always have some home of her own."</p> + +<p>"You want me to do it, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I want you to please yourself. If I find that you +please yourself by accepting this man, I myself shall be better pleased +than if you please yourself by rejecting him; but you shall never +know that by my manner. I shall not put you on bread and water, +and lock you up in the garret either if you accept him, or if you reject +him." The Dean smiled as he said this, as all the world at Brotherton +knew that he had never in his life even scolded his daughter.</p> + +<p>"And you, papa?"</p> + +<p>"I shall come and see you, and you will come and see me. I shall +get on well enough. I have always known that you would leave me +soon. I am prepared for that." There was something in this which +grated on her feelings. She had, perhaps, taught herself to believe +that she was indispensable to her father's happiness. Then after a +pause he continued: "Of course you must be ready to see Lord +George when he comes again, and you ought to remember, my dear, +that marquises do not grow on every hedge."</p> + +<p>With great care and cunning workmanship one may almost make a +silk purse out of a sow's ear, but not quite. The care which Dean +Lovelace had bestowed upon the operation in regard to himself had +been very great, and the cunning workmanship was to be seen in every +plait and every stitch. But still there was something left of the +coarseness of the original material. Of all this poor Mary knew +nothing at all; but yet she did not like being told of marquises and +hedges where her heart was concerned. She had wanted,—had unconsciously +wanted,—some touch of romance from her father to satisfy the +condition in which she found herself. But there was no touch of +romance there; and when she was left to herself to work the matter +out in her own heart and in her own mind she was unsatisfied.</p> + +<p>Two or three days after this Mary received notice that her lover +was coming. The Dean had seen him and had absolutely fixed a time. +To poor Mary this seemed to be most unromantic, most unpromising. +And though she had thought of nothing else since she had first heard +of Lord George's intention, though she had laid awake struggling to +make up her mind, she had reached no conclusion. It had become +quite clear to her that her father was anxious for the marriage, and +there was much in it which recommended it to herself. The old elms +of the park of Manor Cross were very tempting. She was not indifferent +to being called My Lady. Though she had been slightly hurt +when told that marquises did not grow on hedges, still she knew that +it would be much to be a marchioness. And the man himself was<!-- Page 10 --> +good, and not only good but very handsome. There was a nobility +about him beyond that of his family. Those prone to ridicule might +perhaps have called him Werter-faced, but to Mary there was a sublimity +in this. But then was she in love with him?</p> + +<p>She was a sweet, innocent, ladylike, high-spirited, joyous creature. +Those struggles of her father to get rid of the last porcine taint, +though not quite successful as to himself, had succeeded thoroughly in +regard to her. It comes at last with due care, and the due care had +here been taken. She was so nice that middle-aged men wished +themselves younger that they might make love to her, or older that +they might be privileged to kiss her. Though keenly anxious for +amusement, though over head and ears in love with sport and frolic, +no unholy thought had ever polluted her mind. That men were men, +and that she was a woman, had of course been considered by her. +Oh, that it might some day be her privilege to love some man with all +her heart and all her strength, some man who should be, at any rate +to her, the very hero of heroes, the cynosure of her world! It was +thus that she considered the matter. There could surely nothing be +so glorious as being well in love. And the one to be thus worshipped +must of course become her husband. Otherwise would her heart be +broken, and perhaps his,—and all would be tragedy. But with tragedy +she had no sympathy. The loved one must become her husband. +But the pictures she had made to herself of him were not at all like +Lord George Germain. He was to be fair, with laughing eyes, quick +in repartee, always riding well to hounds. She had longed to hunt +herself, but her father had objected. He must be sharp enough sometimes +to others, though ever soft to her, with a silken moustache and +a dimpled chin, and perhaps twenty-four years old. Lord George was +dark, his eyes never laughed; he was silent generally, and never went +out hunting at all. He was dignified, and tall, very handsome, no +doubt,—and a lord. The grand question was that;—could she love +him? Could she make another picture, and paint him as her hero? +There were doubtless heroic points in the side wave of that coal-black +lock,—coal-black where the few grey hairs had not yet shown +themselves, in his great height, and solemn polished manners.</p> + +<p>When her lover came, she could only remember that if she accepted +him she would please everybody. The Dean had taken occasion to +assure her that the ladies at Manor Cross would receive her with open +arms. But on this occasion she did not accept him. She was very +silent, hardly able to speak a word, and almost sinking out of sight +when Lord George endeavoured to press his suit by taking her hand. +But she contrived at last to make him the very answer that Adelaide +De Baron had made. She must take time to think of it. But the +answer came from her in a different spirit. She at any rate knew as +soon as it was given that it was her destiny in life to become Lady +George Germain. She did not say "Yes" at the moment, only be<!-- Page 11 -->cause +it is so hard for a girl to tell a man that she will marry him at +the first asking! He made his second offer by letter, to which the +Dean wrote the reply:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"My dear Lord George,</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 2em;">"My daughter is gratified by your affection, and flattered by +your manner of showing it. A few plain words are perhaps the best. +She will be happy to receive you as her future husband, whenever it +may suit you to come to the deanery.</p> + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature2">"Yours affectionately,<br></span> +<span class="smcap presignature3">"Henry Lovelace."<br></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Immediately upon this the conduct of Lord George was unexceptionable. +He hurried over to Brotherton, and as he clasped his girl in +his arms, he told her that he was the happiest man in England. Poor +as he was he made her a handsome present, and besought her if she +had any mercy, any charity, any love for him, to name an early day. +Then came the four ladies from Manor Cross,—for Lady Alice had +already become Lady Alice Holdenough,—and caressed her, and +patted her, and petted her, and told her that she should be as welcome +as flowers in May. Her father, too, congratulated her with more of +enthusiasm, and more also of demonstrated feeling than she had ever +before seen him evince. He had been very unwilling, he said, to +express any strong opinion of his own. It had always been his desire +that his girl should please herself. But now that the thing was +settled he could assure her of his thorough satisfaction. It was all +that he could have desired; and now he would be ready at any time +to lay himself down, and be at rest. Had his girl married a spendthrift +lord, even a duke devoted to pleasure and iniquity, it would +have broken his heart. But he would now confess that the aristocracy +of the county had charms for him; and he was not ashamed to +rejoice that his child should be accepted within their pale. Then he +brushed a real tear from his eyes, and Mary threw herself into his +arms. The tear was real, and in all that he said there was not an +insincere word. It was to him a very glory of glories that his child +should be in the way of becoming the Marchioness of Brotherton. It +was even a great glory that she should be Lady George Germain. The +Dean never forgot the livery stable, and owned day and night that +God had been very good to him.</p> + +<p>It was soon settled that Mary was to be allowed three months for +preparation, and that the marriage was to be solemnized in June. Of +course she had much to do in preparing her wedding garments, but +she had before her a much more difficult task than that at which she +worked most sedulously. It was now the great business of her life to +fall in love with Lord George. She must get rid of that fair young +man with the silky moustache and the darling dimple. The sallow,<!-- Page 12 --> +the sublime, and the Werter-faced must be made to take the place of +laughing eyes and pink cheeks. She did work very hard, and sometimes, +as she thought, successfully. She came to a positive conclusion +that he was the handsomest man she ever saw, and that she certainly +liked the few grey hairs. That his manner was thoroughly noble no +one could doubt. If he were seen merely walking down the street +he would surely be taken for a great man. He was one of whom, as +her husband, she could be always proud;—and that she felt to be a +great thing. That he would not play lawn tennis, and that he did +not care for riding were points in his character to be regretted. +Indeed, though she made some tenderly cautious inquiries, she could +not find what were his amusements. She herself was passionately +fond of dancing, but he certainly did not dance. He talked to her, +when he did talk, chiefly of his family, of his own poverty, of the +goodness of his mother and sisters, and of the great regret which they +all felt that they should have been deserted by the head of their +family.</p> + +<p>"He has now been away," said Lord George, "for ten years; but +not improbably he may return soon, and then we shall have to leave +Manor Cross."</p> + +<p>"Leave Manor Cross!"</p> + +<p>"Of course we must do so should he come home. The place belongs +to him, and we are only there because it has not suited him to +reside in England."</p> + +<p>This he said with the utmost solemnity, and the statement had been +produced by the answer which the Marquis had made to a letter announcing +to him his brother's marriage. The Marquis had never been +a good correspondent. To the ladies of the house he never wrote at +all, though Lady Sarah favoured him with a periodical quarterly letter. +To his agent, and less frequently to his brother, he would write curt, +questions on business, never covering more than one side of a sheet +of notepaper, and always signed "Yours, B." To these the inmates +of Manor Cross had now become accustomed, and little was thought of +them; but on this occasion he had written three or four complete +sentences, which had been intended to have, and which did have, a +plain meaning. He congratulated his brother, but begged Lord George +to bear in mind that he himself might not improbably want Manor +Cross for his own purpose before long. If Lord George thought it +would be agreeable, Mr. Knox, the agent, might have instructions to +buy Miss Lovelace a present. Of this latter offer Lord George took +no notice; but the intimation concerning the house sat gravely on +his mind.</p> + +<p>The Dean did exactly as he had said with reference to the house in +town. Of course it was necessary that there should be arrangements +as to money between him and Lord George, in which he was very +frank. Mary's money was all her own,—giving her an income of nearly<!-- Page 13 --> +£1500 per annum. The Dean was quite of opinion that this should be +left to Lord George's management, but he thought it right as Mary's +father to stipulate that his daughter should have a home of her own. +Then he suggested a small house in town, and expressed an opinion +that his daughter should be allowed to live there six months in +the year. The expense of such a sojourn might be in some degree +shared by himself if Lord George would receive him for a month +or so in the spring. And so the thing was settled, Lord George +pledging himself that the house should be taken. The arrangement +was distasteful to him in many ways, but it did not seem to be unreasonable, +and he could not oppose it. Then came the letter from +the Marquis. Lord George did not consider himself bound to speak +of that letter to the Dean; but he communicated the threat to Mary. +Mary thought nothing about it, except that her future brother-in-law +must be a very strange man.</p> + +<p>During all those three months she strove very hard to be in love, +and sometimes she thought that she had succeeded. In her little way +she studied the man's character, and did all she could to ingratiate +herself with him. Walking seemed to be his chief relaxation, and +she was always ready to walk with him. She tried to make herself +believe that he was profoundly wise. And then, when she failed in +other things, she fell back upon his beauty. Certainly she had never +seen a handsomer face, either on a man's shoulders or in a picture. +And so they were married.</p> + +<p>Now I have finished my introduction,—having married my heroine +to my hero,—and have, I hope, instructed my reader as to those +hundred and twenty incidents, of which I spoke—not too tediously. +If he will go back and examine, he will find that they are all there. +But perhaps it will be better for us both that he should be in quiet +possession of them without any such examination.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">LIFE AT MANOR CROSS.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> married couple passed their honeymoon in Ireland, Lady +Brotherton having a brother, an Irish peer, who lent them for a few +months his house on the Blackwater. The marriage, of course, was +celebrated in the cathedral, and equally of course, the officiating +clergymen were the Dean and Canon Holdenough. On the day before +the marriage Lord George was astonished to find how rich a man was +his father-in-law.</p> + +<p>"Mary's fortune is her own," he said; "but I should like to give +her something. Perhaps I had better give it to you on her behalf."<!-- Page 14 --></p> + +<p>Then he shuffled a cheque for a thousand pounds into Lord George's +hands. He moreover gave his daughter a hundred pounds in notes +on the morning of the wedding, and thus acted the part of the benevolent +father and father-in-law to a miracle. It may be acknowledged +here that the receipt of the money removed a heavy weight from +Lord George's heart. He was himself so poor, and at the same time +so scrupulous, that he had lacked funds sufficient for the usual brightness +of a wedding tour. He would not take his mother's money, nor +lessen his own small patrimony; but now it seemed that wealth was +showered on him from the deanery.</p> + +<p>Perhaps a sojourn in Ireland did as well as anything could towards +assisting the young wife in her object of falling in love with her husband. +He would hardly have been a sympathetic companion in Switzerland +or Italy, as he did not care for lakes or mountains. But +Ireland was new to him and new to her, and he was glad to have an +opportunity of seeing something of a people as to whom so little is +really known in England. And at Ballycondra, on the Blackwater, they +were justified in feeling a certain interest in the welfare of the tenants +around them. There was something to be done, and something of +which they could talk. Lord George, who couldn't hunt, and wouldn't +dance, and didn't care for mountains, could enquire with some zeal +how much wages a peasant might earn, and what he would do with it +when earned. It interested him to learn that whereas an English +labourer will certainly eat and drink his wages from week to week,—so +that he could not be trusted to pay any sum half-yearly,—an Irish +peasant, though he be half starving, will save his money for the rent. +And Mary, at his instance, also cared for these things. It was her gift, +as with many women, to be able to care for everything. It was, perhaps, +her misfortune that she was apt to care too much for many things. The +honeymoon in Ireland answered its purpose, and Lady George, when +she came back to Manor Cross, almost thought that she had succeeded. +She was at any rate able to assure her father that she had been as +happy as the day was long, and that he was absolutely—"perfect."</p> + +<p>This assurance of perfection the Dean no doubt took at its proper +value. He patted his daughter's cheek as she made it, and kissed her, +and told her that he did not doubt but that with a little care she +might make herself a happy woman. The house in town had already +been taken under his auspices, but of course was not to be inhabited +yet.</p> + +<p>It was a very small but a very pretty little house, in a quaint little +street called Munster Court, near Storey's Gate, with a couple of +windows looking into St. James's Park. It was now September, and +London for the present was out of the question. Indeed, it had been +arranged that Lord George and his wife should remain at Manor Cross +till after Christmas. But the house had to be furnished, and the Dean +evinced his full understanding of the duties of a father-in-law in such<!-- Page 15 --> +an emergency. This, indeed, was so much the case that Lord George +became a little uneasy. He had the greater part of the thousand +pounds left, which he insisted on expending,—and thought that that +should have sufficed. But the Dean explained in his most cordial +manner,—and no man's manner could be more cordial than the Dean's,—that +Mary's fortune from Mr. Tallowax had been unexpected, that +having had but one child he intended to do well by her, and that, +therefore, he could now assist in starting her well in life without +doing himself a damage. The house in this way was decorated and +furnished, and sundry journeys up to London served to brighten the +autumn which might otherwise have been dull and tedious.</p> + +<p>At this period of her life two things acting together, and both +acting in opposition to her anticipations of life, surprised the young +bride not a little. The one was her father's manner of conversation +with her, and the other was her husband's. The Dean had never been +a stern parent; but he had been a clergyman, and as a clergyman +he had inculcated a certain strictness of life,—a very modified strictness, +indeed, but something more rigid than might have come from +him had he been a lawyer or a country gentleman. Mary had learned +that he wished her to attend the cathedral services, and to interest +herself respecting them, and she had always done so. He had explained +to her that, although he kept a horse for her to ride, he, as the +Dean of Brotherton, did not wish her to be seen in the hunting field. +In her dress, her ornaments, her books, her parties, there had been +always something to mark slightly her clerical belongings. She had +never chafed against this because she loved her father and was +naturally obedient; but she had felt something perhaps of a soft +regret. Now her father, whom she saw very frequently, never spoke +to her of any duties. How should her house be furnished? In +what way would she lay herself out for London society? What enjoyments +of life could she best secure? These seemed to be the matters +on which he was most intent. It occurred to her that when speaking +to her of the house in London he never once asked her what church +she would attend; and that when she spoke with pleasure of being so +near the Abbey, he paid little or no attention to her remark. And +then, too, she felt, rather than perceived, that in his counsels to her +he almost intimated that she must have a plan of life different from +her husband's. There were no such instructions given, but it almost +seemed as though this were implied. He took it for granted that her +life was to be gay and bright, though he seemed to take it also for +granted that Lord George did not wish to be gay and bright.</p> + +<p>All this surprised her. But it did not perhaps surprise her so much +as the serious view of life which her husband from day to day impressed +upon her. That hero of her early dreams, that man with the +light hair and the dimpled chin, whom she had not as yet quite +forgotten, had never scolded her, had never spoken a serious word to<!-- Page 16 --> +her, and had always been ready to provide her with amusements that +never palled. But Lord George made out a course of reading for her,—so +much for the two hours after breakfast, so much for the hour +before dressing,—so much for the evening; and also a table of results +to be acquired in three months,—in six months,—and so much by the +close of the first year; and even laid down the sum total of achievements +to be produced by a dozen years of such work! Of course she +determined to do as he would have her do. The great object of her +life was to love him; and, of course, if she really loved him, she +would comply with his wishes. She began her daily hour of Gibbon +after breakfast with great zeal. But there was present to her an idea +that if the Gibbon had come from her father, and the instigations to +amuse herself from her husband, it would have been better.</p> + +<p>These things surprised her; but there was another matter that +vexed her. Before she had been six weeks at Manor Cross she found +that the ladies set themselves up as her tutors. It was not the +Marchioness who offended her so much as her three sisters-in-law. +The one of the family whom she had always liked best +had been also liked best by Mr. Holdenough, and had gone +to live next door to her father in the Close. Lady Alice, though +perhaps a little tiresome, was always gentle and good-natured. Her +mother-in-law was too much in awe of her own eldest daughter ever +to scold anyone. But Lady Sarah could be very severe; and Lady +Susanna could be very stiff; and Lady Amelia always re-echoed +what her elder sisters said.</p> + +<p>Lady Sarah was by far the worst. She was forty years old, and +looked as though she were fifty and wished to be thought sixty. +That she was, in truth, very good, no one either at Manor Cross or in +Brotherton or any of the parishes around ever doubted. She knew +every poor woman on the estate, and had a finger in the making of +almost every petticoat worn. She spent next to nothing on herself, +giving away almost all her own little income. She went to church +whatever was the weather. She was never idle and never wanted to +be amused. The place in the carriage which would naturally have +been hers she had always surrendered to one of her sisters when there +had been five ladies at Manor Cross, and now she surrendered again +to her brother's wife. She spent hours daily in the parish school. +She was doctor and surgeon to the poor people,—never sparing herself. +But she was harsh-looking, had a harsh voice, and was dictatorial. +The poor people had become used to her and liked her ways. The +women knew that her stitches never gave way, and the men had a +wholesome confidence in her medicines, her plasters, and her cookery. +But Lady George Germain did not see by what right she was to be +made subject to her sister-in-law's jurisdiction.</p> + +<p>Church matters did not go quite on all fours at Manor Cross. The +ladies, as has before been <a name="tn_pg_25"></a><!-- TN: changed period to comma after "said"-->said, were all high, the Marchioness being<!-- Page 17 --> +the least exigeant in that particular, and Lady Amelia the most so. +Ritual, indeed, was the one point of interest in Lady Amelia's life. +Among them there was assent enough for daily comfort; but Lord +George was in this respect, and in this respect only, a trouble to them. +He never declared himself openly, but it seemed to them that he did +not care much about church at all. He would generally go of a Sunday +morning; but there was a conviction that he did so chiefly to oblige +his mother. Nothing was ever said of this. There was probably +present to the ladies some feeling, not uncommon, that religion is +not so necessary for men as for women. But Lady George was a +woman.</p> + +<p>And Lady George was also the daughter of a clergyman. There +was now a double connexion between Manor Cross and the Close at +Brotherton. Mr. Canon Holdenough, who was an older man than the +Dean, and had been longer known in the diocese, was a most unexceptional +clergyman, rather high, leaning towards the high and dry, very +dignified, and quite as big a man in Brotherton as the Dean himself. +The Dean was, indeed, the Dean; but Mr. Holdenough was uncle to +a baronet, and the Holdenoughs had been Holdenoughs when the +Conqueror came. And then he also had a private income of his own. +Now all this gave to the ladies at Manor Cross a peculiar right to be +great in church matters,—so that Lady Sarah was able to speak with +much authority to Mary when she found that the bride, though a +Dean's daughter, would only go to two services a week, and would +shirk one of them if the weather gave the slightest colouring of +excuse.</p> + +<p>"You used to like the cathedral services," Lady Sarah said to her, +one day, when Mary had declined to go to the parish church, to sing +the praises of St. Processus.</p> + +<p>"That was because they were cathedral services," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"You mean to say that you attended the House of God because +the music was good!" Mary had not thought the subject over +sufficiently to be enabled to say that good music is supplied with the +object of drawing large congregations, so she only shrugged her +shoulders. "I, too, like good music, dear; but I do not think the +want of it should keep me from church." Mary again shrugged her +shoulders, remembering, as she did so, that her sister-in-law did not +know one tune from another. Lady Alice was the only one of the +family who had ever studied music.</p> + +<p>"Even your papa goes on Saints' days," continued Lady Sarah, +conveying a sneer against the Dean by that word "even."</p> + +<p>"Papa is Dean. I suppose he has to go."</p> + +<p>"He would not go to church, I suppose, unless he approved of +going."</p> + +<p>The subject then dropped. Lady George had not yet arrived at +that sort of snarling home intimacy, which would have justified her<!-- Page 18 --> +in telling Lady Sarah that if she wanted a lesson at all, she would +prefer to take it from her husband.</p> + +<p>The poor women's petticoats was another source of trouble. Before +the autumn was over,—by the end of October,—when Mary had been +two months at Manor Cross, she had been got to acknowledge that +ladies living in the country should employ a part of their time in +making clothes for the poor people; and she very soon learned to +regret the acknowledgment. She was quickly driven into a corner by +an assertion from Lady Sarah that, such being the case, the time to be +so employed should be defined. She had intended to make something,—perhaps +an entire petticoat,—at some future time. But Lady +Sarah was not going to put up with conduct such as that. Mary had +acknowledged her duty. Did she mean to perform it, or to neglect +it? She made one petticoat, and then gently appealed to her husband. +Did not he think that petticoats could be bought cheaper than they +could be made? He figured it out, and found that his wife could earn +three-halfpence a day by two hours' work; and even Lady Sarah did +not require from her more than two hours daily. Was it worth while +that she should be made miserable for ninepence a week,—less than +£2 a-year? Lady George figured it out also, and offered the exact sum, +£1 19<i>s.</i>, to Lady Sarah, in order that she might be let off for the first +twelve months. Then Lady Sarah was full of wrath. Was that the +spirit in which offerings were to be made to the Lord? Mary was +asked, with stern indignation, whether in bestowing the work of her +hands upon the people, whether in the very fact that she was doing for +the poor that which was distasteful to herself, she did not recognise +the performance of a duty? Mary considered a while, and then said +that she thought a petticoat was a petticoat, and that perhaps the one +made by the regular petticoat-maker would be the best. She did not +allude to the grand doctrine of the division of labour, nor did she hint +that she might be doing more harm than good by interfering with +regular trade, because she had not studied those matters. But that +was the line of her argument. Lady Sarah told her that her heart in +that matter was as hard as a nether millstone. The young wife, not +liking this, withdrew; and again appealed to her husband. His mind +was divided on the subject. He was clearly of opinion that the petticoat +should be obtained in the cheapest market, but he doubted much +about that three-halfpence in two hours. It might be that his wife +could not do better at present; but experience would come, and in +that case, she would be obtaining experience as well as earning three-halfpence. +And, moreover, petticoats made at Manor Cross would, he +thought, undoubtedly be better than any that could be bought. He +came, however, to no final decision; and Mary, finding herself every +morning sitting in a great petticoat conclave, hardly had an alternative +but to join it.</p> + +<p>It was not in any spirit of complaint that she spoke on the subject<!-- Page 19 --> +to her father as the winter came on. A certain old Miss Tallowax had +come to the deanery, and it had been thought proper that Lady George +should spend a day or two there. Miss Tallowax, also, had money of +her own, and even still owned a share in the business; and the Dean +had pointed out, both to Lord George and his wife, that it would be +well that they should be civil to her. Lord George was to come on +the last day, and dine and sleep at the deanery. On this occasion, +when the Dean and his daughter were alone together, she said something +in a playful way about the great petticoat contest.</p> + +<p>"Don't you let those old ladies sit upon you," said the Dean. +He smiled as he spoke, but his daughter well knew, from his tone, +that he meant his advice to be taken seriously.</p> + +<p>"Of course, papa, I should like to accommodate myself to them as +much as I can."</p> + +<p>"But you can't, my dear. Your manner of life can't be their +manner, nor theirs yours. I should have thought George would see +that."</p> + +<p>"He didn't take their part, you know."</p> + +<p>"Of course he didn't. As a married woman you are entitled to +have your own way, unless he should wish it otherwise. I don't +want to make this matter serious; but if it is pressed, tell them +that you do not care to spend your time in that way. They cling to +old fashions. That is natural enough; but it is absurd to suppose +that they should make you as old-fashioned as themselves."</p> + +<p>He had taken the matter up quite seriously, and had given his +daughter advice evidently with the intention that she should profit by +it. That which he had said as to her being a married woman struck +her forcibly. No doubt these ladies at Manor Cross were her superiors +in birth; but she was their brother's wife, and as a married woman +had rights of her own. A little spirit of rebellion already began to +kindle itself within her bosom; but in it there was nothing of mutiny +against her husband. If he were to desire her to make petticoats all +day, of course she would make them; but in this contest he had been, +as it were, neutral, and had certainly given her no orders. She +thought a good deal about it while at the deanery, and made up her +mind that she would sit in the petticoat conclave no longer. It could +not be her duty to pass her time in an employment in which a poor +woman might with difficulty earn sixpence a day. Surely she might +do better with her time than that, even though she should spend it all +in reading Gibbon.<!-- Page 20 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">AT THE DEANERY.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">There</span> was a dinner-party at the deanery during Miss Tallowax's +sojourn at Brotherton. Mr. Canon Holdenough and Lady Alice were +there. The bishop and his wife had been asked,—a ceremony which +was gone through once a year,—but had been debarred from accepting +the invitation by the presence of clerical guests at the palace. But +his lordship's chaplain, Mr. Groschut, was present. Mr. Groschut +also held an honorary prebendal stall, and was one of the chapter,—a +thorn sometimes in the Dean's side. But appearances were well +kept up at Brotherton, and no one was more anxious that things +should be done in a seemly way than the Dean. Therefore, Mr. +Groschut, who was a very low churchman and had once been a Jew, +but who bore a very high character for theological erudition, was +asked to the deanery. There were also one or two other clergymen +there, with their wives, and Mr. and Mrs. Houghton. Mrs. Houghton, +it will be remembered, was the beautiful woman who had refused to +become the wife of Lord George Germain. Before taking this step, +the Dean had been careful to learn whether his son-in-law would +object to meet the Houghtons. Such objection would have been +foolish, as the families had all known each other. Both Mr. De Baron, +Mrs. Houghton's father, and Mr. Houghton himself, had been intimate +with the late marquis, and had been friends of the present lord before +he had quitted the country. A lady when she refuses a gentleman +gives no cause of quarrel. All this the Dean understood; and as he +himself had known both Mr. Houghton and Mr. De Baron ever since +he came to Brotherton, he thought it better that there should be such +a meeting. Lord George blushed up to the roots of his hair, and +then said that he should be very glad to meet the gentleman and +his wife.</p> + +<p>The two young brides had known each other as girls, and now met +with, at any rate, an appearance of friendship.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Mrs. Houghton, who was about four years the +elder, "of course I know all about it, and so do you. You are an +heiress, and could afford to please yourself. I had nothing of my own, +and should have had to pass all my time at Manor Cross. Are you +surprised?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I be surprised?" said Lady George, who was, however, +very much surprised at this address.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know; he is the handsomest man in England. Everybody +allows that; and, then, such a family—and such possibilities! +I was very much flattered. Of course he had not seen you then, or<!-- Page 21 --> +only seen you as a child, or I shouldn't have had a chance. It is a +great deal better as it is,—isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"I think so, certainly."</p> + +<p>"I am so glad to hear that you have a house in town. We go up +about the first of April, when the hunting is over. Mr. Houghton +does not ride much, but he hunts a great deal. We live in Berkeley +Square, you know; and I do so hope we shall see ever so much +of you."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I hope so too," said Lady George, who had never hitherto +been very fond of Miss De Baron, and had entertained a vague idea +that she ought to be a little afraid of Mrs. Houghton. But when her +father's guest was so civil to her she did not know how to be other +than civil in return.</p> + +<p>"There is no reason why what has passed should make any +awkwardness;—is there?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Lady George, feeling that she almost blushed at the +allusion to so delicate a subject.</p> + +<p>"Of course not. Why should there? Lord George will soon get +used to me, just as if nothing had happened; and I shall always be +ever so fond of him,—in a way, you know. There shall be nothing to +make you jealous."</p> + +<p>"I'm not a bit afraid of that," said Lady George, almost too +earnestly.</p> + +<p>"You need not be, I'm sure. Not but what I do think he was at +one time very—very much attached to me. But it couldn't be. And +what's the good of thinking of such a thing when it can't be? I don't +pretend to be very virtuous, and I like money. Now Mr. Houghton, +at any rate, has got a large income. If I had had your fortune at my +own command, I don't say what I might not have done."</p> + +<p>Lady George almost felt that she ought to be offended by all this,—almost +felt that she was disgusted; but, at the same time, she did not +quite understand it. Her father had made a point of asking the +Houghtons, and had told her that of course she would know the +Houghtons up in town. She had an idea that she was very ignorant +of the ways of life; but that now it would behove her, as a married +woman, to learn those ways. Perhaps the free and easy mode of +talking was the right thing. She did not like being told by another +lady that that other lady would have married her own husband, only +that he was a pauper; and the offence of all this seemed to be the +greater because it was all so recent. She didn't like being told that +she was not to be jealous, especially when she remembered that her +husband had been desperately in love with the lady who told her so +not many months ago. But she was not jealous, and was quite +sure she never would be jealous; and, perhaps, it did not matter. +All this had occurred in the drawing-room before dinner. Then +Mr. Houghton came up to her, telling that he had been commissioned<!-- Page 22 --> +by the Dean to have the honour of taking her down to dinner. Having +made his little speech, Mr. Houghton retired,—as gentlemen generally +do retire when in that position.</p> + +<p>"Be as nice as you can to him," said Mrs. Houghton. "He hasn't +much to say for himself, but he isn't half a bad fellow; and a +pretty woman like you can do what she likes with him."</p> + +<p>Lady George, as she went down to dinner, assured herself that she +had no slightest wish to take any unfair advantage of Mr. Houghton.</p> + +<p>Lord George had taken down Miss Tallowax, the Dean having been +very wise in this matter; and Miss Tallowax was in a seventh heaven +of happiness. Miss Tallowax, though she had made no promises, was +quite prepared to do great things for her noble connexions, if her +noble connexions would treat her properly. She had already made +half-a-dozen wills, and was quite ready to make another, if Lord George +would be civil to her. The Dean was in his heart a little ashamed of +his aunt; but he was man enough to be able to bear her eccentricities +without showing his vexation, and sufficiently wise to know that more +was to be won than lost by the relationship.</p> + +<p>"The best woman in the world," he had said to Lord George beforehand, +speaking of his aunt; "but, of course, you will remember +that she was not brought up as a lady."</p> + +<p>Lord George, with stately urbanity, had signified his intention of +treating Miss Tallowax with every consideration.</p> + +<p>"She has thirty thousand pounds at her own disposal," continued +the Dean. "I have never said a word to her about money, but, +upon my honour, I think she likes Mary better than any one else. +It's worth bearing in mind, you know."</p> + +<p>Lord George smiled again in a stately manner,—perhaps showing +something of displeasure in his smile. But, nevertheless, he was +well aware that it was worth his while to bear Miss Tallowax and her +money in his mind.</p> + +<p>"My lord," said Miss Tallowax, "I hope you will allow me to say +how much honoured we all feel by Mary's proud position." Lord +George bowed and smiled, and led the lady into the deanery dining-room. +Words did not come easily to him, and he hardly knew how +to answer the lady. "Of course, it's a great thing for people such as +us," continued Miss Tallowax, "to be connected with the family of a +Marquis." Again Lord George bowed. This was very bad, indeed,—a +great deal worse than he had anticipated from the aunt of so +courtly a man as his father-in-law, the Dean. The lady looked to be +about sixty; very small, very healthy, with streaky red cheeks, small +grey eyes, and a brown front. Then came upon him an idea, that it +would be a very long time before the thirty thousand pounds, or any +part of it, would come to him. And then there came to him another +idea, that as he had married the Dean's daughter, it was his duty to +behave well to the Dean's aunt, even though the money should never<!-- Page 23 --> +come to him. He therefore told Miss Tallowax that his mother hoped +to have the pleasure of seeing her at Manor Cross before she left +Brotherton. Miss Tallowax almost got out of her seat, as she +curtseyed with her head and shoulders to this proposition.</p> + +<p>The Dean was a very good man at the head of his own dinner-table, +and the party went off pleasantly in spite of sundry attempts at +clerical pugnacity made by Mr. Groschut. Every man and every +beast has his own weapon. The wolf fights with his tooth, the bull +with his horn, and Mr. Groschut always fought with his bishop,—so +taught by inner instinct. The bishop, according to Mr. Groschut, +was inclined to think that this and that might be done. That such +a change might be advantageously made in reference to certain +clerical meetings, and that the hilarity of the diocese might be +enhanced by certain evangelical festivities. These remarks were +generally addressed to Mr. Canon Holdenough, who made almost no +reply to them. But the Dean was, on each occasion, prepared with +some civil answer, which, while it was an answer, would still seem to +change the conversation. It was a law in the Close that Bishop +Barton should be never allowed to interfere with the affairs of +Brotherton Cathedral; and if not the bishop, certainly not the bishop's +chaplain. Though the Canon and the Dean did not go altogether on +all fours in reference to clerical affairs generally they were both +agreed on this point. But the Chaplain, who knew the condition of +affairs as well as they did, thought the law a bad law, and was determined +to abolish it. "It certainly would be very pleasant, Mr. +Holdenough, if we could have such a meeting within the confines of +the Close. I don't mean to-day, and I don't mean to-morrow; but we +might think of it. The bishop, who has the greatest love for the +cathedral services, is very much of that mind."</p> + +<p>"I do not know that I care very much for any out-of-door gatherings," +said the Canon.</p> + +<p>"But why out of doors?" asked the Chaplain.</p> + +<p>"Whatever meeting there is to be in the Close, will, I hope, be +held in the deanery," said the Dean; "but of all meetings, I must +say that I like meetings such as this, the best. Germain, will you +pass the bottle?" When they were alone together he always called +his son-in-law, George; but in company he dropped the more familiar +name.</p> + +<p>Mr. De Baron, Mrs. Houghton's father, liked his joke. "Sporting +men," he said, "always go to a meet, and clerical men to a meeting. +What's the difference?"</p> + +<p>"A good deal, if it is in the colour of the coat," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"The one is always under cover," said the Canon. "The other, I +believe, is generally held out of doors."</p> + +<p>"There is, I fancy, a considerable resemblance in the energy of +those who are brought together," said the Chaplain.<!-- Page 24 --></p> + +<p>"But clergymen ain't allowed to hunt, are they?" said Mr. +Houghton, who, as usual, was a little in the dark as to the subject +under consideration.</p> + +<p>"What's to prevent them?" asked the Canon, who had never been +out hunting in his life, and who certainly would have advised a young +clergyman to abstain from the sport. But in asking the question, he +was enabled to strike a sidelong blow at the objectionable chaplain, +by seeming to question the bishop's authority.</p> + +<p>"Their own conscience, I should hope," said the Chaplain, solemnly, +thereby parrying the blow successfully.</p> + +<p>"I am very glad, then," said Mr. Houghton, "that I didn't go into +the Church." To be thought a real hunting man was the great object +of Mr. Houghton's ambition.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid you would hardly have suited us, Houghton," said +the Dean. "Come, shall we go up to the ladies?"</p> + +<p>In the drawing-room, after a little while, Lord George found +himself seated next to Mrs. Houghton—Adelaide De Baron, as she +had been when he had sighed in vain at her feet. How it had come +to pass that he was sitting there he did not know, but he was quite +sure that it had come to pass by no arrangement contrived by himself. +He had looked at her once since he had been in the room, almost +blushing as he did so, and had told himself that she was certainly very +beautiful. He almost thought that she was more beautiful than his +wife; but he knew,—he knew now,—that her beauty and her manners +were not as well suited to him as those of the sweet creature whom he +had married. And now he was once more seated close to her, and it +was incumbent on him to speak to her. "I hope," she said, almost +in a whisper, but still not seeming to whisper, "that we have both +become very happy since we met last."</p> + +<p>"I hope so, indeed," said he.</p> + +<p>"There cannot, at least, be any doubt as to you, Lord George. I +never knew a sweeter young girl than Mary Lovelace; so pretty, so +innocent, and so enthusiastic. I am but a poor worldly creature +compared to her."</p> + +<p>"She is all that you say, Mrs. Houghton." Lord George also was +displeased,—more thoroughly displeased than had been his wife. But +he did not know how to show his displeasure; and though he felt it, +he still felt, also, the old influence of the woman's beauty.</p> + +<p>"I am so delighted to have heard that you have got a house in +Munster Court. I hope that Lady George and I may be fast friends. +Indeed, I won't call her Lady George; for she was Mary to me before +we either of us thought of getting husbands for ourselves." This was +not strictly true, but of that Lord George could know nothing. "And +I do hope,—may I hope,—that you will call on me?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I will do so."</p> + +<p>"It will add so much to the happiness of my life, if you will allow<!-- Page 25 --> +me to feel that all that has come and gone has not broken the friendship +between us."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>The lady had then said all that she had got to say, and changed her +position as silently as she had occupied it. There was no abruptness +of motion, and yet Lord George saw her talking to her husband at the +other side of the room, almost while his own words were still sounding +in his own ears. Then he watched her for the next few minutes. +Certainly, she was very beautiful. There was no room for comparison, +they were so unlike; otherwise, he would have been disposed to say +that Adelaide was the more beautiful. But Adelaide certainly would +not have suited the air of Manor Cross, or have associated well with +Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>On the next day the Marchioness and Ladies Susannah and Amelia +drove over to the deanery in great state, to call on Miss Tallowax, +and to take Lady George back to Manor Cross. Miss Tallowax enjoyed +the company of the Marchioness greatly. She had never seen a +lady of that rank before. "Only think how I must feel," she said to +her niece, that morning, "I, that never spoke to any one above a +baronet's lady in my life."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you'll find much difference," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"You're used to it. You're one of them yourself. You're above a +baronet's lady,—ain't you, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"I have hardly looked into all that as yet, aunt." There must +surely have been a little fib in this, or the Dean's daughter must +have been very much unlike other young ladies.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I ought to be afraid of you, my dear; only you are so +nice and so pretty. And as for Lord George, he was quite condescending." +Lady George knew that praise was intended, and therefore +made no objection to the otherwise objectionable epithet.</p> + +<p>The visit of the Marchioness was passed over with the less disturbance +to Miss Tallowax because it was arranged that she was to be +taken over to lunch at Manor Cross on the following day. Lord +George had said a word, and Lady Sarah had consented, though, as +a rule, Lady Sarah did not like the company of vulgar people. The +peasants of the parish, down to the very poorest of the poor, were her +daily companions. With them she would spend hours, feeling no inconvenience +from their language or habits. But she did not like +gentlefolk who were not gentle. In days now long gone by, she had +only assented to the Dean, because holy orders are supposed to make +a gentleman; for she would acknowledge a bishop to be as grand a +nobleman as any, though he might have been born the son of a +butcher. But nobility and gentry cannot travel backwards, and she +had been in doubt about Miss Tallowax. But even with the Lady +<a name="tn_pg_34"></a><!-- TN: "Sarahs" changed to "Sarah"-->Sarah a feeling has made its way which teaches them to know that +they must submit to some changes. The thing was to be regretted,<!-- Page 26 --> +but Lady Sarah knew that she was not strong enough to stand quite +alone. "You know she is very rich," the Marchioness had said in a +whisper; "and if Brotherton marries, your poor brother will want it +so badly."</p> + +<p>"That ought not to make any difference, mamma," said Lady +Sarah. Whether it did make any difference or not, Lady Sarah +herself probably hardly knew; but she did consent to the asking of +Miss Tallowax to lunch at Manor Cross.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">MISS TALLOWAX IS SHOWN THE HOUSE.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> Dean took his aunt over to Manor Cross in his brougham. +The Dean's brougham was the neatest carriage in Brotherton, very +much more so than the bishop's family carriage. It was, no doubt, +generally to be seen with only one horse; and neither the bishop or +Mrs. Barton ever stirred without two; but then one horse is enough +for town work, and that one horse could lift his legs and make himself +conspicuous in a manner of which the bishop's rather sorry jades +knew nothing. On this occasion, as the journey was long, there were +two horses—hired; but, nevertheless, the brougham looked very well +as it came up the long Manor Cross avenue. Miss Tallowax became +rather frightened as she drew near to the scene of her coming +grandeur.</p> + +<p>"Henry," she said to her nephew, "they will think so little of me."</p> + +<p>"My dear aunt," replied the Dean, "in these days a lady who has +plenty of money of her own can hold her head up anywhere. The +dear old marchioness will think quite as much of you as you do of her."</p> + +<p>What perhaps struck Miss Tallowax most at the first moment was +the plainness of the ladies' dresses. She, herself, was rather gorgeous +in a shot-silk gown and a fashionable bonnet crowded with flowers. +She had been ashamed of the splendour of the article as she put it on, +and yet had been ashamed also of her ordinary daily head gear. But +when she saw the Marchioness, and especially when she saw Lady +Sarah, who was altogether strange to her, she wished that she had +come in her customary black gown. She had heard something about +Lady Sarah from her niece, and had conceived an idea that Lady Sarah +was the dragon of the family. But when she saw a little woman, looking +almost as old as herself,—though in truth the one might have been +the other's mother,—dressed in an old brown merino, with the slightest +morsel of white collar to be seen round her neck, she began to hope +that the dragon would not be very fierce.<!-- Page 27 --></p> + +<p>"I hope you like Brotherton, Miss Tallowax," said Lady Sarah. "I +think I have heard that you were here once before."</p> + +<p>"I like Brotherton very much, my lady." Lady Sarah smiled as +graciously as she knew how. "I came when they first made Henry +dean, a long time ago now it seems. But he had not then the honour +of knowing your mamma or the family."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't long before we did know him," said the Marchioness. +Then Miss Tallowax turned round and again curtseyed with her head +and shoulders.</p> + +<p>The Dean at this moment was not in the room, having been withdrawn +from the ladies by his son-in-law at the front door; but as +luncheon was announced, the two men came in. Lord George gave his +arm to his wife's great aunt, and the Dean followed with the Marchioness.</p> + +<p>"I really am a'most ashamed to walk out before her ladyship," +said Miss Tallowax, with a slight attempt at laughing at her own +ignorance.</p> + +<p>But Lord George rarely laughed at anything, and certainly did not +know how to treat pleasantly such a subject as this. "It's quite +customary," he said very gravely.</p> + +<p>The lunch was much more tremendous to Miss Tallowax than had +been the dinner at the deanery. Though she was ignorant,—ignorant +at any rate of the ways of such people as those with whom she +was now consorting,—she was by no means a stupid old woman. +She was soon able to perceive that in spite of the old merino gown, it +was Lady Sarah's spirit that quelled them all. At first there was very +little conversation. Lord George did not speak a word. The Marchioness +never exerted herself. Poor Mary was cowed and unhappy. +The Dean made one or two little efforts, but without much success. +Lady Sarah was intent upon her mutton chop, which she finished to +the last shred, turning it over and over in her plate so that it should +be economically disposed of, looking at it very closely because she was +short-sighted. But when the mutton chop had finally done its duty, +she looked up from her plate and gave evident signs that she intended +to take upon herself the weight of the conversation. All the subsequent +ceremonies of the lunch itself, the little tarts and the jelly, +and the custard pudding, she despised altogether, regarding them as +wicked additions. One pudding after dinner she would have allowed, +but nothing more of that sort. It might be all very well for parvenu +millionaires to have two grand dinners a-day, but it could not be necessary +that the Germains should live in that way, even when the Dean +of Brotherton and his aunt came to lunch with them.</p> + +<p>"I hope you like this part of the country, Miss Tallowax," she +said, as soon as she had deposited her knife and fork over the +bone.</p> + +<p>"Manor Cross is quite splendid, my lady," said Miss Tallowax.<!-- Page 28 --></p> + +<p>"It is an old house, and we shall have great pleasure in showing +you what the people call the state rooms. We never use them. Of +course you know the house belongs to my brother, and we only live +here because it suits him to stay in <a name="tn_pg_37"></a><!-- TN: end quote added-->Italy."</p> + +<p>"That's the young Marquis, my lady?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; my elder brother is Marquis of Brotherton, but I cannot +say that he is very young. He is two years my senior, and ten years +older than George."</p> + +<p>"But I think he's not married yet?" asked Miss Tallowax.</p> + +<p>The question was felt to be disagreeable by them all. Poor Mary +could not keep herself from blushing, as she remembered how much to +her might depend on this question of her brother-in-law's marriage. +Lord George felt that the old lady was enquiring what chance there +might be that her grand niece should ever become a marchioness. Old +Lady Brotherton, who had always been anxious that her elder son +should marry, felt uncomfortable, as did also the Dean, conscious +that all there must be conscious how important must be the matter +to him.</p> + +<p>"No," said Lady Sarah, with stately gravity; "my elder brother +is not yet married. If you would like to see the rooms, Miss Tallowax, +I shall have pleasure in showing you the way."</p> + +<p>The Dean had seen the rooms before, and remained with the old +lady. Lord George, who thought very much of everything affecting +his own family, joined the party, and Mary felt herself compelled to +follow her husband and her aunt. The two younger sisters also +accompanied Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>"This is the room in which Queen Elizabeth slept," said Lady +Sarah, entering a large chamber on the ground floor, in which there +was a four-post bedstead, almost as high as the ceiling, and looking as +though no human body had profaned it for the last three centuries.</p> + +<p>"Dear me," said Miss Tallowax, almost afraid to press such sacred +boards with her feet. "Queen Elizabeth! Did she really now?"</p> + +<p>"Some people say she never did actually come to Manor Cross at +all," said the conscientious Lady Amelia; "but there is no doubt that +the room was prepared for her."</p> + +<p>"Laws!" said Miss Tallowax, who began to be less afraid of distant +royalty now that a doubt was cast on its absolute presence.</p> + +<p>"Examining the evidence as closely as we can," said Lady Sarah, +with a savage glance at her sister, "I am inclined to think that she +certainly did come. We know that she was at Brotherton in 1582, +and there exists the letter in which Sir Humphrey Germaine, as he +was then, is desired to prepare rooms for her. I myself have no doubt +on the subject."</p> + +<p>"After all it does not make much difference," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"I think it makes all the difference in the world," said Lady +Susanna. "That piece of furniture will always be sacred to me,<!-- Page 29 --> +because I believe it did once afford rest and sleep to the gracious majesty +of England."</p> + +<p>"It do make a difference, certainly," said Miss Tallowax, looking +at the bed with all her eyes. "Does anybody ever go to bed here +now?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody, ever," said Lady Sarah. "Now we will go through to +the great dining hall. That's the portrait of the first earl."</p> + +<p>"Painted by Kneller," said Lady Amelia, proudly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed," said Miss Tallowax.</p> + +<p>"There is some doubt as to that," said Lady Sarah. "I have found +out that Sir Godfrey Kneller was only born in 1648, and as the first +earl died a year or two after the restoration, I don't know that he +could have done it."</p> + +<p>"It was always said that it was painted by Kneller," said Lady +Amelia.</p> + +<p>"There has been a mistake, I fear," said Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed," said Miss Tallowax, looking up with intense admiration +at a very <a name="tn_pg_38"></a><!-- TN: original reads "ill-dawn"-->ill-drawn old gentleman in armour. Then they entered +the state dining-room or hall, and Miss Tallowax was informed that +the room had not been used for any purpose whatever for very many +years. "And such a beautiful room!" said Miss Tallowax, with +much regret.</p> + +<p>"The fact is, I believe, that the chimney smokes horribly," said +Lord George.</p> + +<p>"I never remember a fire here," said Lady Sarah. "In very cold +weather we have a portable stove brought in, just to preserve the furniture. +This is called the old ball room."</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" ejaculated Miss Tallowax, looking round at the faded +yellow hangings.</p> + +<p>"We did have a ball here once," said Lady Amelia, <a name="tn_pg_38a"></a><!-- TN: quotation mark added here-->"when Brotherton +came of age. I can just remember it."</p> + +<p>"Has it never been used since?" asked Mary.</p> + +<p>"Never," said Lady Sarah. "Sometimes when it's rainy we walk +up and down for exercise. It is a fine old house, but I often wish +that it were smaller. I don't think people want rooms of this sort +now as much as they used to do. Perhaps a time may come when my +brother will make Manor Cross gay again, but it is not very gay now. +I think that is all, Miss Tallowax."</p> + +<p>"It's very fine;—very fine indeed," said Miss Tallowax, shivering. +Then they all trooped back into the morning room which they used +for their daily life.</p> + +<p>The old lady when she had got back into the brougham with +her nephew, the Dean, was able to express her mind freely. "I +wouldn't live in that house, Henry, not if they was to give it me for +nothing."</p> + +<p>"They'd have to give you something to keep it up with."<!-- Page 30 --></p> + +<p>"And not then, neither. Of course it's all very well having a bed +that Queen Elizabeth slept in."</p> + +<p>"Or didn't sleep in."</p> + +<p>"I'd teach myself to believe she did. But dear me, that isn't +everything. It nearly gave me the horrors to look at it. Room after +room,—room after room,—and nobody living in any of them."</p> + +<p>"People can't live in more than a certain number of rooms at +once, aunt."</p> + +<p>"Then what's the use of having them? And don't you think for +the daughters of a Marchioness they are a little what you'd call—dowdy?"</p> + +<p>"They don't go in for dress much."</p> + +<p>"Why, my Jemima at home, when the dirty work is done, is twice +smarter than Lady Sarah. And, Henry,—don't you think they're a +little hard upon Mary?"</p> + +<p>"Hard upon her;—how?" The Dean had listened to the old +woman's previous criticisms with a smile; but now he was interested +and turned sharply round to her. "How hard?"</p> + +<p>"Moping her up there among themselves; and it seemed to me +they snubbed her whenever she spoke." The Dean had not wanted +his aunt's observation to make him feel this. The tone of every +syllable addressed to his girl had caught his ear. He had been +pleased to marry her into so good a family. He had been +delighted to think that by means of his prosperity in the world +his father's grand-daughter might probably become a peeress. But +he certainly had not intended that even for such a reward as that +his daughter should become submissive to the old maids at Manor +Cross. Foreseeing something of this he had stipulated that she should +have a house of her own in London; but half her time would probably +be spent in the country, and with reference to that half of her +time it would be necessary that she should be made to understand +that as the wife of Lord George she was in no respect inferior to his +sisters, and that in some respects she was their superior. "I don't +see the good of living in a big house," continued Miss Tallowax, +"if all the time everything is to be as dull as dull."</p> + +<p>"They are older than she is, you know."</p> + +<p>"Poor little dear! I always did say that young folk should have +young folk about 'em. Of course it's a great thing for her to have a +lord for her husband. But he looks a'most too old himself for such a +pretty darling as your Mary."</p> + +<p>"He's only thirty-three."</p> + +<p>"It's in the looks, I suppose, because he's so grand. But it's +that Lady Sarah puzzles me. It isn't in her looks, and yet she has +it all in her own way. Well;—I liked going there, and I'm glad I've +been; but I don't know as I shall ever want to go again." Then +there was silence for some time; but as the brougham was driven<!-- Page 31 --> +into Brotherton Miss Tallowax spoke again. "I don't suppose an +old woman like me can ever be of any use, and you'll always be at +hand to look after her. But if ever she should want an outing, just +to raise her spirits, old as I am, I think I could make it brighter for +her than it is there." The Dean took her hand and pressed it, and +then there was no more said.</p> + +<p>When the brougham was driven away Lord George took his wife +for a walk in the park. She was still struggling hard to be in love +with him, never owning failure to herself, and sometimes assuring +herself that she had succeeded altogether. Now, when he asked her +to come with him, she put on her hat joyfully, and joined her hands +over his arm as she walked away with him into the shrubbery.</p> + +<p>"She's a wonderful old woman;—is not she, George?"</p> + +<p>"Not very wonderful."</p> + +<p>"Of course you think she's vulgar."</p> + +<p>"I didn't say so."</p> + +<p>"No; you're too good to say so, because she's papa's aunt. But +she's very good. Don't you think she's very good?"</p> + +<p>"I dare say she is. I don't know that I run into superlatives +quite so much as you do."</p> + +<p>"She has brought me such a handsome present. I could not show +it you before them all just now, and it only came down from London +this morning. She did not say a word about it before. Look +here." Then she slipped her glove off and showed him a diamond +ring.</p> + +<p>"You should not wear that out of doors."</p> + +<p>"I only put it on to show you. Wasn't it good of her? 'Young +people of rank ought to wear nice things,' she said, as she gave it +me. Wasn't it an odd thing for her to say? and yet I understood +her." Lord George frowned, thinking that he also understood the +old woman's words, and reminding himself that the ladies of rank +at Manor Cross never did wear nice things. "Don't you think it +was nice?"</p> + +<p>"Of course she is entitled to make you a present if she pleases."</p> + +<p>"It pleased me, George."</p> + +<p>"I dare say, and as it doesn't displease me all is well. You, however, +have quite sense enough to understand, that in this house more is +thought of—of—of—" he would have said blood, but that he did not +wish to hurt her,—"more is thought of personal good conduct than +of rings and jewels."</p> + +<p>"Rings and jewels, and—personal conduct may go together; +mayn't they?"</p> + +<p>"Of course they may."</p> + +<p>"And very often do. You won't think my—personal conduct—will +be injured because I wear my aunt's ring?"</p> + +<p>When Lord George made his allusion to personal conduct one of<!-- Page 32 --> +her two hands dropped from his arm, and now, as she repeated the +words, there was a little sting of sarcasm in her voice.</p> + +<p>"I was intending to answer your aunt's opinion that young people +ought to wear nice things. No doubt there is at present a great rage +for rich ornaments and costly dress, and it was of these she was +thinking when she spoke of nice things. When I spoke of personal +conduct being more thought of here, I intended to imply that you had +come into a family not given to rich ornaments and costly dress. My +sisters feel that their portion in this world is assured to them without +such outward badges, and wish that you should share the feeling."</p> + +<p>This was a regular sermon, and to Mary's thinking was very disagreeable, +and not at all deserved. Did her husband really mean to +tell her that, because his sisters chose to dress themselves down in +the country like dowdy old maids whom the world had deserted, she +was to do the same up in London? The injustice of this on all sides +struck home to her at the moment. They were old and she was +young. They were plain; she was pretty. They were poor; she +was rich. They didn't feel any wish to make themselves what she +called "nice." She did feel a very strong wish in that direction. +They were old maids; she was a young bride. And then what right +had they to domineer over her, and to send word to her through her +husband of their wishes as to her manner of dressing? She said +nothing at the moment; but she became red, and began to feel that +she had power within her to rebel at any rate against her sisters-in-law. +There was silence for a moment or so, and then Lord George +reverted to the subject.</p> + +<p>"I hope you can sympathise with my sisters," he said. He had +felt that the hand had been dropped, and had understood something +of the reason.</p> + +<p>She wished to rebel against them, but by no means wished to +oppose him. She was aware, as though by instinct, that her life would +be very bad indeed should she fail to sympathise with him. It was +still the all-paramount desire of her heart to be in love with him. But +she could not bring herself to say that she sympathised with them in +this direct attack that was made on her own mode of thought.</p> + +<p>"Of course, they are a little older than I am," she said, hoping to +get out of the difficulty.</p> + +<p>"And therefore, the more entitled to consideration. I think you +will own that they must know what is, and what is not, becoming to +a lady."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean," said she, hardly able to choke a rising sob, "that +they—have anything—to find fault with in me?"</p> + +<p>"I have said nothing as to finding fault, Mary."</p> + +<p>"Do they think that I do not dress as I ought to do?"</p> + +<p>"Why should you ask such a question as that?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what else I am to understand, George. Of course<!-- Page 33 --> +I will do anything that you tell me. If you wish me to make any +change, I will make it. But I hope they won't send me messages +through you."</p> + +<p>"I thought you would have been glad to know that they interested +themselves about you." In answer to this Mary pouted, but her +husband did not see the pout.</p> + +<p>"Of course they are anxious that you should become one of them. +We are a very united family. I do not speak now of my elder +brother, who is in a great measure separated from us and is of a +different nature. But my mother, my sisters, and I, have very many +opinions in common. We live together, and have the same way of +thinking. Our rank is high, and our means are small. But to me +blood is much more than wealth. We acknowledge, however, that +rank demands many sacrifices, and my sisters endeavour to make +those sacrifices most conscientiously. A woman more thoroughly +devoted to good works than Sarah I have never even read of. If you +will believe this, you will understand what they mean, and what I +mean, when we say that here at Manor Cross we think more of +personal conduct than of rings and jewels. You wish, Mary, to be +one of us; do you not?"</p> + +<p>She paused for a moment, and then she answered, "I wish to be +always one with you."</p> + +<p>He almost wanted to be angry at this, but it was impossible. "To +be one with me, dearest," he said, "you must be one, also, with +them."</p> + +<p>"I cannot love them as I do you, George. That, I am sure, is +not the meaning of being married." Then she thought of it all +steadily for a minute, and after that, made a further speech. "And +I don't think I can quite dress like them. I'm sure you would not +like it if I did."</p> + +<p>As she said this she put her second hand back upon his arm.</p> + +<p>He said nothing further on the subject till he had brought her back +to the house, walking along by her side almost mute, not quite knowing +whether he ought to be offended with her or to take her part. It +was true that he would not have liked her to look like Lady Sarah, +but he would have liked her to make some approach in that direction, +sufficient to show submission. He was already beginning to fear the +absence of all control which would befall his young wife in that +London life to which, she was to be so soon introduced, and was meditating +whether he could not induce one of his sisters to accompany +them. As to Sarah he was almost hopeless. Amelia would be of +little or no service, though she would be more likely to ingratiate +herself with his wife than the others. Susanna was less strong than +Sarah <a name="tn_pg_42"></a><!-- TN: original reads "andj"-->and less amiable than Amelia. And then, how would it +be if Mary were to declare that she would rather begin the campaign +without any of them?<!-- Page 34 --></p> + +<p>The young wife, as soon as she found herself alone in her own bedroom, +sat down and resolved that she would never allow herself to +be domineered by her husband's sisters. She would be submissive to +him in all things, but his authority should not be delegated to them.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">BAD TIDINGS.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">About</span> the middle of October, there came a letter from the Marquis +of Brotherton to his brother, which startled them all at Manor Cross +very much indeed. In answering Lord George's communication as to +the marriage, the Marquis had been mysterious and disagreeable;—but +then he was always disagreeable and would on occasions take the +trouble to be mysterious also. He had warned his brother that he +might himself want the house at Manor Cross; but he had said the +same thing frequently during his residence in Italy, being always +careful to make his mother and sisters understand that they might have +to take themselves away any day at a very short warning. But now +the short warning had absolutely come, and had come in such a shape +as to upset everything at Manor Cross, and to upset many things at +the Brotherton Deanery. The letter was as follows:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +"My dear George, +</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 2em;">"I am to be married to the Marchesa Luigi. Her name is +Catarina Luigi, and she is a widow. As to her age, you can ask herself +when you see her, if you dare. I haven't dared. I suppose her +to be ten years younger than myself. I did not expect that it would +be so, but she says now that she would like to live in England. Of +course I've always meant to go back myself some day. I don't suppose +we shall be there before May, but we must have the house got +ready. My mother and the girls had better look out for a place as +soon as they can. Tell my mother of course I will allow her the rent +of Cross Hall, to which indeed she is entitled. I don't think she +would care to live there, and neither she nor the girls would get on +with my wife.</p> + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature3">"Yours, B.</span> +</div> + +<p style="text-indent: 1.5em;">"I am waiting to know about getting the house painted and +furnished."</p></div> + +<p>When Lord George received this letter, he showed it first in +privacy to his sister Sarah. As the reader will have understood,<!-- Page 35 --> +there had never been any close family affection between the present +Marquis and his brothers and sisters; nor had he been a loving son +to his mother. But the family at Manor Cross had always endeavoured +to maintain a show of regard for the head of the family, and +the old Marchioness would no doubt have been delighted had her +eldest son come home and married an English wife. Lady Sarah, in +performing what she had considered to be a family duty, had written +regular despatches to her elder brother, telling him everything that +happened about the place,—despatches which he, probably, never +read. Now there had come a blow indeed. Lady Sarah read the +letter, and then looked into her brother's face.</p> + +<p>"Have you told Mary?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I have told no one."</p> + +<p>"It concerns her as much as any of us. Of course, if he has +married, it is right that he should have his house. We ought to wish +that he should live hero."</p> + +<p>"If he were different from what he is," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"If she is good it may be that he will become different. It is not +the thing, but the manner in which he tells it to us! Did you ever +hear her name before?"</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"What a way he has of mentioning her;—about her age," said Lady +Sarah, infinitely shocked. "Well! Mamma must be told, of course. +Why shouldn't we live at Cross Hall? I don't understand what he +means about that. Cross Hall belongs to mamma for her life, as much +as Manor Cross does to him for his."</p> + +<p>Just outside the park gate, at the side of the park furthest away +from Brotherton, and therefore placed very much out of the world, +there stood a plain substantial house built in the days of Queen Anne, +which had now for some generations been the habitation of the +dowager of the Brotherton family. When the late marquis died, this +had become for her life the property of the Marchioness; but had been +ceded by her to her son, in return for the loan of the big house. The +absentee Marquis had made with his mother the best bargain in his +power, and had let the dower house, known as Cross Hall, to a +sporting farmer. He now kindly offered to allow his mother to +have the rent of her own house, signifying at the same time his +wish that all his family should remove themselves out of his way.</p> + +<p>"He wishes that we should take ourselves off," said Lord George, +hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"But I do not see why we are to give way to his wishes. George, +where are we to go? Of what use can we be in a strange country? +Wherever we are we shall be very poor, but our money will go further +here than elsewhere. How are we to get up new interests in life? +The land is his, but the poor people belong to us as much as to him. +It is unreasonable."<!-- Page 36 --></p> + +<p>"It is frightfully selfish."</p> + +<p>"I for one am not prepared to obey him in this," said Lady Sarah. +"Of course mamma will do as she pleases, but I do not see why we +should go. He will never live here all the year through."</p> + +<p>"He will be sick of it after a month. Will you read the letter to +my mother?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell her, George. She had better not see the letter, unless +she makes a point of it. I will read it again, and then do you keep +it. You should tell Mary at once. It is natural that she should have +built hopes on the improbability of Brotherton's marriage."</p> + +<p>Before noon on that day the news had been disseminated through +the house. The old Marchioness, when she first heard of the Italian +wife, went into hysterics, and then was partly comforted by reminding +herself that all Italians were not necessarily bad. She asked +after the letter repeatedly; and at last, when it was found to be +impossible to explain to her otherwise what her eldest son meant +about the houses, it was shown to her. Then she began to weep +afresh.</p> + +<p>"Why mayn't we live at Cross Hall, Sarah?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Cross Hall belongs to you, mamma, and nothing can hinder you +from living there."</p> + +<p>"But Augustus says that we are to go away."</p> + +<p>The Marchioness was the only one of the family who ever called the +Marquis by his Christian name, and she did so only when she was +much disturbed.</p> + +<p>"No doubt he expresses a wish that we should do so?"</p> + +<p>"Where are we to go to, and I at my age?"</p> + +<p>"I think you should live at Cross Hall."</p> + +<p>"But he says that we mayn't. We could never go on there if he +wants us to go away."</p> + +<p>"Why not, mamma? It is your house as much as this is his. If +you will let him understand that when you leave this you mean to go +there, he will probably say nothing more about it."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Price is living there. I can't make Mr. Price go away +directly the painter people come in here. They'll come to-morrow, +perhaps, and what am I to do then?"</p> + +<p>The matter was discussed throughout the whole day between Lady +Sarah and her mother, the former bearing the old woman's plaintive +weakness with the utmost patience, and almost succeeding, before the +evening came, in inducing her mother to agree to rebel against the +tyranny of her son. There were peculiar difficulties and peculiar +hardships in the case. The Marquis could turn out all the women of +his family at a day's notice. He had only to say to them, "Go!" +and they must be gone. And he could be rid of them without even +saying or writing another word. A host of tradesmen would come, +and then of course they must go. But Mr. Price at Cross Hall must<!-- Page 37 --> +have a regular year's notice, and that notice could not now be given +till Lady-day next.</p> + +<p>"If the worst comes to the worst, mamma we will go and live in +Brotherton for the time. Mr. Holdenough or the Dean would find +some place for us." Then the old lady began to ask how Mary had +borne the news; but as yet Lady Sarah had not been able to interest +herself personally about Mary.</p> + +<p>Lord George was surprised to find how little his wife was affected +by the terrible thunderbolt which had fallen among them. On him +the blow had been almost as terrible as on his mother. He had taken +a house in town, at the instance of the Dean, and in consequence of a +promise made before his marriage, which was sacred to him but which +he regretted. He would have preferred himself to live the whole +year through at Manor Cross. Though he had not very much to do +there the place was never dull to him. He liked the association of +the big house. He liked the sombre grandeur of the park. He liked +the magistrates' bench, though he rarely spoke a word when he was +there. And he liked the thorough economy of the life. But as to +that house in town, though his wife's fortune would enable him to +live there four or five months, he knew that he could not stretch the +income so as to bear the expense of the entire year. And yet, what +must he do now? If he could abandon the house in town, then he +could join his mother as to some new country house. But he did not +dare to suggest that the house in town should be abandoned. He +was afraid of the Dean, and afraid, so to say, of his own promise. The +thing had been stipulated, and he did not know how to go back from +the stipulation.</p> + +<p>"Going to leave Manor Cross," said Mary, when she was told. +"Dear me; how odd. Where will they go to?"</p> + +<p>It was evident to her husband from the tone of her voice that she +regarded her own house in Munster Court, for it was her own, as her +future residence,—as hers and his. In asking where "they" would +live, she spoke of the other ladies of the family. He had expected +that she would have shown some disappointment at the danger to her +future position which this new marriage would produce. But in +regard to that she was, he thought, either perfectly indifferent, or +else a very good actor. In truth, she was almost indifferent. The +idea that she might some day be Lady Brotherton had been something +to her, but not much. Her happiness was not nearly as much disturbed +by this marriage as it had been by the allusion made to her dress. +She herself could hardly understand the terrible gloom which seemed +during that evening and the whole of the next day to have fallen on +the entire family.</p> + +<p>"George, does it make you very unhappy?" she said, whispering +to him on the morning of the second day.</p> + +<p>"Not that my brother should marry," he said, "God forbid that I,<!-- Page 38 --> +as a younger brother, should wish to debar him from any tittle of +what belongs to him. If he would marry well it ought to be a joy to +us all."</p> + +<p>"Is not this marrying well?"</p> + +<p>"What, with a foreigner; with an Italian widow? And then there +will, I fear, be great trouble in finding a comfortable home for my +mother."</p> + +<p>"Amelia says she can go to Cross Hall."</p> + +<p>"Amelia does not know what she is talking of. It would be very +long before they could get into Cross Hall, even if they can go there +at all. It would have to be completely furnished, and there is no +money to furnish it."</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't your brother——?" Lord George shook his head. "Or +papa." Lord George again shook his head—"What will they do?"</p> + +<p>"If it were not for our house in London we might take a place in the +country together," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>All the various facts of the proposition now made to her flashed +upon Mary's mind at once. Had it been suggested to her, when she +was first asked to marry Lord George, that she should live permanently +in a country house with his mother and sisters, in a house +of which she would not be and could not be the mistress, she would +certainly have rejected the offer. And now the tedium of such a +life was plainer to her than it would have been then. But, under +her father's auspices, a pleasant, gay little house in town had been +taken for her, and she had been able to gild the dullness of Manor +Cross with the brightness of her future prospects. For four or five +months she would be her own mistress, and would be so in London. +Her husband would be living on her money, but it would be the +delight of her heart that he should be happy while doing so. And all +this must be safe and wise, because it was to be done under the advice +of her father. Now it was proposed to her that she should abandon +all this and live in some smaller, poorer, duller country residence, in +which she would be the least of the family instead of the mistress of +her own house. She thought of it all for a moment, and then she +answered him with a firm voice.</p> + +<p>"If you wish to give up the house in London we will do so."</p> + +<p>"It would distress you I fear." When we call on our friends to +sacrifice themselves, we generally wish them also to declare that they +like being sacrificed.</p> + +<p>"I should be disappointed of course, George."</p> + +<p>"And it would be unjust," said he.</p> + +<p>"If you wish it I will not say a word against it."</p> + +<p>On that afternoon he rode into Brotherton to tell the tidings to the +Dean. Upon whatever they might among them decide, it was expedient +that the Dean should be at once told of the marriage. Lord +George, as he thought over it all on horseback, found difficulties on<!-- Page 39 --> +every side. He had promised that his wife should live in town, and +he could not go back from that promise without injustice. He understood +the nature of her lately offered sacrifice, and felt that it would +not liberate his conscience. And then he was sure that the Dean +would be loud against any such arrangement. The money no doubt +was Mary's own money and, subject to certain settlement, was at Lord +George's immediate disposal; but he would be unable to endure the +Dean's reproaches. He would be unable also to endure his own, unless—which +was so very improbable—the Dean should encourage him. But +how were things to be arranged? Was he to desert his mother and +sisters in their difficulty? He was very fond of his wife; but it had +never yet occurred to him that the daughter of Dean Lovelace could +be as important to him as all the ladies of the house of Germain. +His brother purposed to bring his wife to Manor Cross in May, when +he would be up in London. Where at that moment, and after what +fashion, would his mother and sisters be living?</p> + +<p>The Dean showed his dismay at the marriage plainly enough.</p> + +<p>"That's very bad, George," he said; "very bad indeed!"</p> + +<p>"Of course we don't like her being a foreigner."</p> + +<p>"Of course you don't like his marrying at all. Why should you? +You all know enough of him to be sure that he wouldn't marry the +sort of woman you would approve."</p> + +<p>"I don't know why my brother should not have married any lady in +England."</p> + +<p>"At any rate he hasn't. He has married some Italian widow, and +it's a misfortune. Poor Mary!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think Mary feels it at all."</p> + +<p>"She will some day. Girls of her age don't feel that kind of thing +at first. So he is going to come over at once. What will your mother +do?"</p> + +<p>"She has Cross Hall."</p> + +<p>"That man Price is there. He will go out of course?"</p> + +<p>"With notice he must go."</p> + +<p>"He won't stand about that, if you don't interfere with his land +and farm-yard. I know Price. He's not a bad fellow."</p> + +<p>"But Brotherton does not want them to go there," said Lord +George, almost in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Does not want your mother to live in her own house! Upon my +word the Marquis is considerate to you all! He has said that plainly, +has he? If I were Lady Brotherton I would not take the slightest +heed of what he says. She is not dependent on him. In order that +he may be relieved from the bore of being civil to his own family she +is to be sent out about the world to look for a home in her old age! +You must tell her not to listen for a minute to such a proposition."</p> + +<p>Lord George, though he put great trust in his father-in-law, did +not quite like hearing his brother spoken of so very freely by a man<!-- Page 40 --> +who was, after all, the son of a tradesman. It seemed to him as +though the Dean made himself almost too intimate with the affairs +at Manor Cross, and yet he was obliged to go on and tell the Dean +everything.</p> + +<p>"Even if Price went, there must be some delay in getting the house +ready."</p> + +<p>"The Marquis surely won't turn your mother out before the +spring?"</p> + +<p>"Tradesmen will have to come in. And then I don't quite know +what we are to do as to the——expense of furnishing the new house. +It will cost a couple of thousand pounds, and none of us have ready +money." The Dean assumed a very serious face. "Every spoon and +fork at Manor Cross, every towel and every sheet belongs to my +brother."</p> + +<p>"Was not the Cross House ever furnished?"</p> + +<p>"Many years ago; in my grandmother's time. My father left +money for the purpose, but it was given up to my sister Alice when +she married Holdenough." He found himself explaining all the little +intricacies of his family to the Dean, because it was necessary that he +should hold council with some one. "I was thinking of a furnished +house for them elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"In London?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not there. My mother would not like it, nor would my +sisters. I like the country very much the best myself."</p> + +<p>"Not for the whole year?"</p> + +<p>"I have never cared to be in London; but, of course, as for Mary +and myself that is settled. You would not wish her to give up the +house in Munster Court?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. It would not be fair to her to ask her to live +always under the wing of your mother and sisters. She would never +learn to be a woman. She would always be in leading strings. Do +you not feel that yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I feel that beggars cannot be choosers. My mother's fortune is +£2000 a year. As you know we have only 5000<i>l.</i> a piece. There is +hardly income enough among us for a house in town and a house in +the country."</p> + +<p>The Dean paused a moment, and then replied that his daughter's +welfare could not be made subordinate to that of the family generally. +He then said that if any immediate sum of money were required he +would lend it either to the dowager or to Lord George.</p> + +<p>Lord George, as he rode home, was angry both with himself and +with the Dean. There had been an authority in the Dean's voice +which had grated upon his feelings; of course he intended to be as +good as his word; but, nevertheless, his wife was his wife and subject +to his will; and her fortune had been her own and had not come from +the Dean. The Dean took too much upon himself. And yet, with all<!-- Page 41 --> +that, he had consulted the Dean about everything, and had confessed +the family poverty. The thing, however, was quite certain to him; he +could not get out of the house in town.</p> + +<p>During the whole of that day Lady Sarah had been at work with +her mother, instigating her to insist on her own rights, and at last she +had succeeded.</p> + +<p>"What would our life be, mamma," Lady Sarah had said, "if we were +removed altogether into a new world. Here we are of some use. People +know us, and give us credit for being what we are. We can live after +our own fashion, and yet live in accordance with our rank. There +is not a man or a woman or a child in the parish whom I do not know. +There is not a house in which you would not see Amelia's and Susanna's +work. We cannot begin all that over again."</p> + +<p>"When I am gone, my dear, you must do so."</p> + +<p>"Who can say how much may be done before that sad day shall +come to us? He may have taken his Italian wife back again to Italy. +Mamma, we ought not to run away from our duties."</p> + +<p>On the following morning it was settled among them that the +dowager should insist on possession of her own house at Cross Hall, +and a letter was written to the Marquis, congratulating him of course +on his marriage, but informing him at the same time that the family +would remain in the parish.</p> + +<p>Some few days later Mr. Knox, the agent for the property, came +down from London. He had received the orders of the Marquis, and +would be prepared to put workmen into the house as soon as her ladyship +would be ready to leave it. But he quite agreed that this could +not be done at once. A beginning no doubt might be made while they +were still there, but no painting should be commenced or buildings +knocked down or put up till March. It was settled at the same time +that on the first of March the family should leave the house.</p> + +<p>"I hope my son won't be angry," the Marchioness said to Mr. +Knox.</p> + +<p>"If he be angry, my lady, he will be angry without a cause. But I +never knew him to be very angry about anything."</p> + +<p>"He always did like to have his own way, Mr. Knox," said the +mindful mother.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">"CROSS HALL GATE."</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">While</span> Mr. Knox was still in the country negotiations were opened +with Mr. Price, the sporting farmer, who, like all sporting farmers, was +in truth a very good fellow. He had never been liked by the ladies at<!-- Page 42 --> +Manor Cross, as having ways of his own which were not their ways. +He did not go to church as often as they thought he ought to do; and, +being a bachelor, stories were told about him which were probably +very untrue. A bachelor may live in town without any inquiries as to +any of the doings of his life; but if a man live forlorn and unmarried +in a country house, he will certainly become the victim of calumny +should any woman under sixty ever be seen about his place. It was +said also of Mr. Price that sometimes, after hunting, men had been +seen to go out of his yard in an uproarious condition. But I hardly +think that old Sir Simon Bolt, the master of the hounds, could have +liked him so well, or so often have entered his house, had there been +much amiss there; and as to the fact of there always being a fox in +Cross Hall Holt, which a certain little wood was called about half a mile +of the house, no one even doubted that. But there had always been +a prejudice against Price at the great house, and in this even Lord +George had coincided. But when Mr. Knox went to him and explained +to him what was about to happen,—that the ladies would be forced, +almost before the end of winter, to leave Manor Cross and make way +for the Marquis, Mr. Price declared that he would clear out, bag and +baggage, top-boots, spurs, and brandy-bottles, at a moment's notice. +The Prices of the English world are not, as a rule, deficient in respect +for the marquises and marchionesses. "The workmen can come in +to-morrow," Price said, when he was told that some preparations would +be necessary. "A bachelor can shake down anywhere, Mr. Knox." +Now it happened that Cross Hall House was altogether distinct from +the Cross Hall Farm, on which, indeed, there had been a separate +farmhouse, now only used by labourers. But Mr. Price was a comfortable +man, and, when the house had been vacant, had been able to +afford himself the luxury of living there.</p> + +<p>So far the primary difficulties lessened themselves when they were +well looked in the face. And yet things did not run altogether +smoothly. The Marquis did not condescend to reply to his brother's +letter; but he wrote what was for him a long letter to Mr. Knox, +urging upon the agent the duty of turning his mother and sisters altogether +out of the place. "We shall be a great deal better friends +apart," he said. "If they remain there we shall see little or nothing +of each other, and it will be very uncomfortable. If they will settle +themselves elsewhere, I will furnish a house for them; but I don't +want to have them at my elbow." Mr. Knox was of course bound to +show this to Lord George, and Lord George was bound to consult +Lady Sarah. Lady Sarah told her mother something of it, but not +all; but she told it in such a way that the old lady consented to remain +and to brave her eldest son. As for Lady Sarah herself, in spite of her +true Christianity and real goodness, she did not altogether dislike the +fight. Her brother was her brother, and the head of the family, and +he had his privileges; but they too had their rights, and she was not<!-- Page 43 --> +disposed to submit herself to tyranny. Mr. Knox was therefore obliged +to inform the Marquis in what softest language he could find applicable +for the purpose that the ladies of the family had decided upon removing +to the dower-house.</p> + +<p>About a month after this there was a meet of the Brotherton Hunt, +of which Sir Simon Bolt was the master, at Cross Hall Gate. The +grandfather of the present Germains had in the early part of the +century either established this special pack, or at any rate become the +master of it. Previous to that the hunting probably had been somewhat +precarious; but there had been, since his time, a regular +Brotherton Hunt associated with a collar and button of its own,—a +blue collar on a red coat, with B. H. on the buttons,—and the thing +had been done well. They had four days a week, with an occasional +bye, and £2,500 were subscribed annually. Sir Simon Bolt had +been the master for the last fifteen years, and was so well known +that no sporting pen and no sporting tongue in England ever +called him more than Sir Simon. Cross Hall Gate, a well-loved +meet, was the gate of the big park which opened out upon the road +just opposite to Mr. Price's house. It was an old stone structure, +with a complicated arch stretching across the gate itself, with a lodge +on each side. It lay back in a semi-circle from the road, and was very +imposing. In old days no doubt the gate was much used, as the direct +traffic from London to Brotherton passed that way. But the railway +had killed the road; and as the nearer road from the Manor Cross +House to the town came out on the same road much nearer to Brotherton, +the two lodges and all the grandeur were very much wasted. +But it was a pretty site for a meet when the hounds were seated on +their haunches inside the gate, or moving about slowly after the huntsman's +horse, and when the horses and carriages were clustered about +on the high road and inside the park. And it was a meet, too, much +loved by the riding men. It was always presumed that Manor Cross +itself was preserved for foxes, and the hounds were carefully run +through the belt of woods. But half an hour did that, and then they +went away to Price's Little Holt. On that side there were no more gentlemen's +places; there was a gorse cover or two and sundry little spinnies; +but the county was a country for foxes to run and men to ride; and +with this before them, the members of the Brotherton Hunt were +pleased to be summoned to Cross Hall Gate.</p> + +<p>On such occasions Lord George was always there. He never hunted, +and very rarely went to any other meet; but on these occasions he +would appear mounted, in black, and would say a few civil words to +Sir Simon, and would tell George Scruby, the huntsman, that he had +heard that there was a fox among the laurels. George would touch +his hat and say in his loud, deep voice, "Hope so, my lord," having +no confidence whatever in a Manor Cross fox. Sir Simon would shake +hands with him, make a suggestion about the weather, and then get<!-- Page 44 --> +away as soon as possible; for there was no sympathy and no common +subject between the men. On this occasion Lady Amelia had driven +down Lady Susanna in the pony-carriage, and Lady George was there, +mounted, with her father the Dean, longing to be allowed to go away +with the hounds but having been strictly forbidden by her husband +to do so. Mr. Price was of course there, as was also Mr. Knox, the +agent, who had a little shooting-box down in the country, and kept a +horse, and did a little hunting.</p> + +<p>There was good opportunity for talking as the hounds were leisurely +taken through the loose belt of woods which were by courtesy called +the Manor Cross coverts, and Mr. Price took the occasion of drawing a +letter from his pocket and showing it to Mr. Knox.</p> + +<p>"The Marquis has written to you!" said the agent in a tone of +surprise, the wonder not being that the Marquis should write to Mr. +Price, but that he should write to any one.</p> + +<p>"Never did such a thing in his life before, and I wish he hadn't +now."</p> + +<p>Mr. Knox wished it also when he had read the letter. It expressed a +very strong desire on the part of the Marquis that Mr. Price should keep +the Cross Hall House, saying that it was proper that the house should +go with the farm, and intimating the Marquis's wish that Mr. Price +should remain as his neighbour. "If you can manage it, I'll make +the farm pleasant and profitable to you," said the Marquis.</p> + +<p>"He don't say a word about her ladyship," said Price; "but what +he wants is just to get rid of 'em all, box and dice."</p> + +<p>"That's about it, I suppose," said the agent.</p> + +<p>"Then he's come to the wrong shop, that's what he has done, Mr. +Knox. I've three more year of my lease of the farm, and after that, +out I must go, I dare say."</p> + +<p>"There's no knowing what may happen before that, Price."</p> + +<p>"If I was to go, I don't know that I need quite starve, Mr. Knox."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose you will."</p> + +<p>"I ain't no family, and I don't know as I'm just bound to go by +what a lord says, though he is my landlord. I don't know as I don't +think more of them ladies than I does of him. —— him, Mr. Knox."</p> + +<p>And then Mr. Price used some very strong language indeed. "What +right has he to think as I'm going to do his dirty work? You may +tell him from me as he may do his own."</p> + +<p>"You'll answer him, Price?"</p> + +<p>"Not a line. I ain't got nothing to say to him. He knows I'm +a-going out of the house; and if he don't, you can tell him."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going to?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I was going to fit up a room or two in the old farmhouse; +and if I had anything like a lease, I wouldn't mind spending three +or four hundred pounds there. I was thinking of talking to you about +it, Mr. Knox."<!-- Page 45 --></p> + +<p>"I can't renew the lease without his approval."</p> + +<p>"You write and ask him, and mind you tell him that there ain't no +doubt at all as to any going out of Cross Hall after Christmas. Then, +if he'll make it fourteen years, I'll put the old house up and not +ask him for a shilling. As I'm a living sinner, they're on a fox! +Who'd have thought of that in the park? That's the old vixen from +the holt, as sure as my name's Price. Them cubs haven't travelled +here yet."</p> + +<p>So saying, he rode away, and Mr. Knox rode after him, and there +was consternation throughout the hunt. It was so unaccustomed a +thing to have to gallop across Manor Cross Park! But the hounds +were in full cry, through the laurels, and into the shrubbery, and round +the conservatory, close up to the house. Then she got into the kitchen-garden, +and back again through the laurels. The butler and the +gardener and the housemaid and the scullery-maid were all there to +see. Even Lady Sarah came to the front door, looking very severe, +and the old Marchioness gaped out of her own sitting-room window +upstairs. Our friend Mary thought it excellent fun, for she was really +able to ride to the hounds; and even Lady Amelia became excited as +she flogged the pony along the road. Stupid old vixen, who ought to +have known better! Price was quite right, for it was she, and the +cubs in the holt were now finally emancipated from all maternal +thraldom. She was killed ignominiously in the stokehole under the +greenhouse,—she who had been the mother of four litters, and who +had baffled the Brotherton hounds half a dozen times over the cream +of the Brotherton country!</p> + +<p>"I knew it," said Price in a melancholy tone, as he held up the +head which the huntsman had just dissevered from the body. "She +might 'a done better with herself than come to such a place as this for +the last move."</p> + +<p>"Is it all over?" asked Lady George.</p> + +<p>"That one is pretty nearly all over, miss," said George Scruby, as he +threw the fox to the hounds. "My Lady, I mean, begging your Ladyship's +pardon." Some one had prompted him at the moment. "I'm +very glad to see your Ladyship out, and I hope we'll show you something +better before long."</p> + +<p>But poor Mary's hunting was over. When George Scruby and Sir +Simon and the hounds went off to the holt, she was obliged to remain +with her husband and sisters-in-law.</p> + +<p>While this was going on Mr. Knox had found time to say a word +to Lord George about that letter from the Marquis. "I am afraid," +he said, "your brother is very anxious that Price should remain at +Cross Hall."</p> + +<p>"Has he said anything more?"</p> + +<p>"Not to me; but to Price he has."</p> + +<p>"He has written to Price?"<!-- Page 46 --></p> + +<p>"Yes, with his own hand, urging him to stay. I cannot but think +it was very wrong." A look of deep displeasure came across Lord George's +face. "I have thought it right to mention it, because it may be a +question whether her Ladyship's health and happiness may not be best +consulted by her leaving the neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>"We have considered it all, Mr. Knox, and my mother is determined +to stay. We are very much obliged to you. We feel that in doing +your duty by my brother you are anxious to be courteous to us. The +hounds have gone on; don't let me keep you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Houghton was of course out. Unless the meets were very +distant from his own place, he was always out. On this occasion his +wife also was there. She had galloped across the park as quickly as +anybody, and when the fox was being broken up in the grass before +the hall-door, was sitting close to Lady George. "You are coming +on?" she said in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid not," answered Mary.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; do come. Slip away with me. Nobody'll see you. +Get as far as the gate, and then you can see that covert drawn."</p> + +<p>"I can't very well. The truth is, they don't want me to hunt."</p> + +<p>"They! Who is they? 'They' don't want me to hunt. That +is, Mr. Houghton doesn't. But I mean to get out of his way by +riding a little forward. I don't see why that is not just as good +as staying behind. Mr. Price is going to give me a lead. You know +Mr. Price?"</p> + +<p>"But he goes everywhere."</p> + +<p>"And I mean to go everywhere. What's the good of half-doing +it? Come along."</p> + +<p>But Mary had not even thought of rebellion such as this—did not in +her heart approve of it, and was angry with Mrs. Houghton. Nevertheless, +when she saw the horsewoman gallop off across the grass towards +the gate, she could not help thinking that she would have been +just as well able to ride after Mr. Price as her old friend Adelaide de +Baron. The Dean did go on, having intimated his purpose of riding +on just to see Price's farm.</p> + +<p>When the unwonted perturbation was over at Manor Cross Lord +George was obliged to revert again to the tidings he had received from +Mr. Knox. He could not keep it to himself. He felt himself obliged +to tell it all to Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>"That he should write to such a man as Mr. Price, telling him of +his anxiety to banish his own mother from her own house!"</p> + +<p>"You did not see the letter?"</p> + +<p>"No; but Knox did. They could not very well show such a letter +to me; but Knox says that Price was very indignant, and swore that +he would not even answer it."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he can afford it, George? It would be very dreadful to +ruin him."<!-- Page 47 --></p> + +<p>"Price is a rich man. And after all, if Price were to do all that +Brotherton desires him, he could only keep us out for a year or so. +But don't you think you will all be very uncomfortable here. How +will my mother feel if she isn't ever allowed to see him? And how +will you feel if you find that you never want to see his wife?"</p> + +<p>Lady Sarah sat silent for a few minutes before she answered him, +and then declared for war. "It is very bad, George; very bad. I +can foresee great unhappiness; especially the unhappiness which must +come from constant condemnation of one whom we ought to wish to +love and approve of before all others. But nothing can be so bad as +running away. We ought not to allow anything to drive mamma from +her own house, and us from our own duties. I don't think we ought +to take any notice of Brotherton's letter to Mr. Price." It was thus +decided between them that no further notice should be taken of the +Marquis's letter to Mr. Price.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">PUGSBY BROOK.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">There</span> was great talking about the old vixen as they all trotted +away to Cross Hall Holt;—how it was the same old fox that they +hadn't killed in a certain run last January, and how one old farmer +was quite sure that this very fox was the one which had taken them +that celebrated run to Bamham Moor three years ago, and how she +had been the mother of quite a Priam's progeny of cubs. And now +that she should have been killed in a stokehole! While this was +going on a young lady rode up along side of Mr. Price, and said a +word to him with her sweetest smile.</p> + +<p>"You remember your promise to me, Mr. Price?"</p> + +<p>"Surely, Mrs. Houghton. Your nag can jump a few, no doubt."</p> + +<p>"Beautifully. Mr. Houghton bought him from Lord Mountfencer. +Lady Mountfencer couldn't ride him because he pulls a little. But +he's a perfect hunter."</p> + +<p>"We shall find him, Mrs. Houghton, to a moral; and do you stick +to me. They generally go straight away to Thrupp's larches. You +see the little wood. There's an old earth there, but that's stopped. +There is only one fence between this and that, a biggish ditch, with +a bit of a hedge on this side, but it's nothing to the horses when +they're fresh."</p> + +<p>"Mine's quite fresh."</p> + +<p>"Then they mostly turn to the right for Pugsby; nothing but grass +then for four miles a-head."<!-- Page 48 --></p> + +<p>"And the jumping?"</p> + +<p>"All fair. There's one bit of water,—Pugsby Brook,—that you ought +to have as he'll be sure to cross it ever so much above the bridge. +But, lord love you, Mrs. Houghton, that horse'll think nothing of the +brook."</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all, Mr. Price. I like brooks."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid he's not here, Price," said Sir Simon, trotting round +the cover towards the whip, who was stationed at the further end.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sir Simon, her as we killed came from the holt, you know," +said the farmer, mindful of his reputation for foxes. "You can't eat +your cake and have it too, can you, Sir Simon?"</p> + +<p>"Ought to be able in a covert like this."</p> + +<p>"Well, perhaps we shall. The best lying is down in that corner. +I've seen a brace of cubs together there a score of times." Then there +was one short low, dubious, bark, and then another a little more +confirmed. "That's it, Sir Simon. There's your 'cake.'"</p> + +<p>"Good hound, Blazer," cried Sir Simon, recognising the voice of +his dog. And many of the pack recognised the well-known sound as +plainly as the master, for you might hear the hounds rustling through +the covert as they hurried up to certify to the scent which their old +leader had found for them. The holt though thick was small and a +fox had not much chance but by breaking. Once up the covert and +once back again the animal went, and then Dick, the watchful whip, +holding his hand up to his face, holloaed him away. "Gently, gentlemen," +shouted Sir Simon, "let them settle. Now, Mr. Bottomley, +if you'll only keep yourself a little steady, you'll find yourself the +better for it at the finish." Mr. Bottomley was a young man from +London, who was often addressed after this fashion, was always +very unhappy for a few minutes, and then again forgot it in his +excitement.</p> + +<p>"Now, Mr. Price," said Mrs. Houghton in a fever of expectation. +She had been dodging backwards and forwards trying to avoid her +husband, and yet unwilling to leave the farmer's side.</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment, ma'am; wait a moment. Now we're right; here +to the left." So saying Mr. Price jumped over a low hedge, and Mrs. +Houghton followed him, almost too <a name="tn_pg_57"></a><!-- TN: comma changed to period here-->closely. Mr. Houghton saw it, +and didn't follow. He had made his way up, resolved to stop his +wife, but she gave him the slip at the last moment. "Now through +the gate, ma'am, and then on straight as an arrow for the little wood. +I'll give you a lead over the ditch, but don't ride quite so close, ma'am." +Then the farmer went away feeling perhaps that his best chance of +keeping clear from his too loving friend was to make the pace so fast +that she should not be able quite to catch him. But Lady Mountfencer's +nag was fast too, was fast and had a will of his own. It was not +without a cause that Lord Mountfencer had parted with so good a +horse out of his stable. "Have a care, ma'am," said Price, as<!-- Page 49 --> +Mrs. Houghton canoned against him as they both landed over the big +ditch; "have a care, or we shall come to grief together. Just see me +over before you let him take his jump." It was very good advice, and +is very often given; but both ladies and gentlemen, whose hands are +a little doubtful, sometimes find themselves unable to follow it. But +now they were at Thrupp's larches. George Scruby had led the way, +as becomes a huntsman, and a score or more had followed him over +the big fence. Price had been going a little to the left, and when they +reached the wood was as forward as any one.</p> + +<p>"He won't hang here, Sir Simon," said the farmer, as the master +came up, "he never does."</p> + +<p>"He's only a cub," said the master.</p> + +<p>"The holt cubs this time of the year are nigh as strong as old foxes. +Now for Pugsby."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Houghton looked round, fearing every moment that her +husband would come up. They had just crossed a road, and wherever +there was a road there, she thought, he would certainly be.</p> + +<p>"Can't we get round the other side, Mr. Price?" she said.</p> + +<p>"You won't be any better nor here."</p> + +<p>"But there's Mr. Houghton on the road," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Oh-h-h," ejaculated the farmer, just touching the end of his +nose with his finger and moving gently on through the wood. "Never +spoil sport," was the motto of his life, and to his thinking it was certainly +sport that a young wife should ride to hounds in opposition to +an old husband. Mrs. Houghton followed him, and as they got out +on the other side, the fox was again away. "He ain't making for +Pugsby's after all," said Price to George Scruby.</p> + +<p>"He don't know that country yet," said the huntsman. "He'll +be back in them Manor Cross woods. You'll see else."</p> + +<p>The park of Manor Cross lay to the left of them, whereas Pugsby +and the desirable grass country away to Bamham Moor were all to +the right. Some men mindful of the big brook and knowing the +whereabouts of the bridge, among whom was Mr. Houghton, kept +very much to the right and were soon out of the run altogether. But +the worst of it was that though they were not heading for their good +country, still there was the brook, Pugsby brook, to be taken. Had +the fox done as he ought to have done, and made for Pugsby itself, +the leap would have been from grass to grass; but now it must be +from plough to plough, if taken at all. It need hardly be said that +the two things are very different. Sir Simon, when he saw how the +land lay, took a lane leading down to the Brotherton road. If the fox +was making for the park he must be right in that direction. It is not +often that a master of hounds rides for glory, and Sir Simon had long +since left all that to younger men. But there were still a dozen riders +pressing on, and among them were the farmer and his devoted follower,—and +a gentleman in black.<!-- Page 50 --></p> + +<p>Let us give praise where praise is due, and acknowledge that young +Bottomley was the first at the brook,—and the first over it. As soon +as he was beyond Sir Simon's notice, he had scurried on across the +plough, and being both light and indiscreet, had enjoyed the heartfelt +pleasure of passing George Scruby. George, who hated Mr. Bottomley, +grunted out his malediction, even though no one could hear him. +"He'll soon be at the bottom of that," said George, meaning to imply +in horsey phrase that the rider, if he rode over ploughed ground after +that fashion, would soon come to the end of his steed's power. But +Bottomley, if he could only be seen to jump the big brook before +any one else, would have happiness enough for a month. To have +done a thing that he could talk about was the charm that Bottomley +found in hunting. Alas, though he rode gallantly at the +brook and did get over it, there was not much to talk about; for, +unfortunately, he left his horse behind him in the water. The poor +beast going with a rush off the plough, came with her neck and +shoulders against the opposite bank, and shot his rider well on to the +dry land.</p> + +<p>"That's about as good as a dead'un," said George, as he landed a +yard or two to the right. This was ill-natured, and the horse in truth +was not hurt. But a rider, at any rate a young rider, should not +take a lead from a huntsman unless he is very sure of himself, +of his horse, and of the run of the hounds. The next man over was +the gentleman in black, who took it in a stand, and who really seemed +to know what he was about. There were some who afterwards asserted +that this was the Dean, but the Dean was never heard to boast of the +performance.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Houghton's horse was going very strong with her. More than +once the farmer cautioned her to give him a pull over the plough. +And she attempted to obey the order. But the horse was self-willed, +and she was light; and in truth the heaviness of the ground would +have been nothing to him had he been fairly well ridden. But she allowed +him to rush with her through the mud. As she had never yet had an +accident she knew nothing of fear, and she was beyond measure +excited. She had been near enough to see that a man fell at the brook, +and then she saw also that the huntsman got over, and also the gentleman +in black. It seemed to her to be lovely. The tumble did not scare +her at all, as others coming after the unfortunate one had succeeded. +She was aware that there were three or four other men behind her, +and she was determined that they should not pass her. They should +see that she also could jump the river. She had not rid herself of +her husband for nothing. Price, as he came near the water, knew +that he had plenty to do, and knew also how very close to him the +woman was. It was too late now to speak to her again, but he did +not fear for his own horse if she would only give him room. He +steadied the animal a yard or two from the margin as he came to<!-- Page 51 --> +the headland that ran down the side of the brook, and then took his +leap.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Houghton rode as though the whole thing was to be +accomplished by a rush, and her horse, true to the manner of horses, +insisted on following in the direct track of the one who had led him +so far. When he got to the bank he made his effort to jump high, but +had got no footing for a fair spring. On he went, however, and struck +Price's horse on the quarter so violently as to upset that animal, as +well as himself.</p> + +<p>Price, who was a thoroughly good horseman, was knocked off, but +got on to the bank as Bottomley had done. The two animals were +both in the brook, and when the farmer was able to look round, he saw +that the lady was out of sight. He was in the water immediately +himself, but before he made the plunge he had resolved that he +never again would give a lady a lead till he knew whether she could +ride.</p> + +<p>Mr. Knox and Dick were soon on the spot, and Mrs. Houghton was +extracted. "I'm blessed if she ain't dead," said the whip, pale as death +himself. "H—sh!" said Mr. Knox; "she's not dead, but I'm afraid +she's hurt." Price had come back through the water with the woman in +his arms, and the two horses were still floundering about, unattended. +"It's her shoulder, Mr. Knox," said Price. "The horse has jammed +her against the bank under water." During this time her head was +drooping, and her eyes were closed, and she was apparently senseless. +"Do you look to the horses, Dick. There ain't no reason why they +should get their death of cold." By this time there were a dozen men +round them, and Dick and others were able to attend to the ill-used +nags. "Yes; it's her shoulder," continued Price. "That's out, any +way. What the mischief will Mr. Houghton say to me when he +comes up!"</p> + +<p>There is always a doctor in the field,—sent there by some benignity +of providence,—who always rides forward enough to be near to accidents, +but never so forward as to be in front of them. It has been +hinted that this arrangement is professional rather than providential; +but the present writer, having given his mind to the investigation of +the matter, is inclined to think that it arises from the general fitness +of things. All public institutions have, or ought to have, their doctor, +but in no institution is the doctor so invariably at hand, just when +he is wanted, as in the hunting field. A very skilful young surgeon +from Brotherton was on the spot almost as soon as the lady was out of +the water, and declared that she had dislocated her shoulder.</p> + +<p>What was to be done? Her hat had gone; she had been under the +water; she was covered with mud; she was still senseless, and of +course she could neither ride nor walk. There were ever so many +suggestions. Price thought that she had better be taken back to Cross +Hall, which was about a mile and a half distant. Mr. Knox, who<!-- Page 52 --> +knew the country, told them of a side gate in the Manor Cross wall, +which made the great house nearer than Cross Hall. They could get her +there in little over a mile. But how to get her there? They must find +a door on which to carry her. First a hurdle was suggested, and then +Dick was sent galloping up to the house for a carriage. In the meantime +she was carried to a labourer's cottage by the roadside on a +hurdle, and there the party was joined by Sir Simon and Mr. +Houghton.</p> + +<p>"It's all your fault," said the husband, coming up to Price as +though he meant to strike him with his whip. "Part of it is no +doubt, sir," said Price, looking his assailant full in the face, but almost +sobbing as he spoke, "and I'm very unhappy about it." Then the +husband went and hung over his wife, but his wife, when she saw him, +found it convenient to faint again.</p> + +<p>At about two o'clock the cortège with the carriage reached the great +house. Sir Simon, after expressions of deep sorrow had, of course, +gone on after his hounds. Mr. Knox, as belonging to Manor Cross, +and Price, and, of course, the doctor, with Mr. Houghton and Mr. +Houghton's groom, accompanied the carriage. When they got to the +door all the ladies were there to receive them. "I don't think we +want to see anything more of you," said Mr. Houghton to the farmer. +The poor man turned round and went away home, alone, feeling +himself to be thoroughly disgraced. "After all," he said to himself, +"if you come to fault it was she nigh killed me, not me her. How +was I to know she didn't know nothing about it!"</p> + +<p>"Now, Mary, I think you'll own that I was right," Lord George said +to his wife, as soon as the sufferer had been put quietly to bed.</p> + +<p>"Ladies don't always break their arms," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"It might have been you as well as Mrs. Houghton."</p> + +<p>"As I didn't go, you need not scold me, George."</p> + +<p>"But you were discontented because you were prevented," said he, +determined to have the last word.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">MRS. HOUGHTON.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Lady Sarah</span>, who was generally regarded as the arbiter of the very +slender hospitalities exercised at Manor Cross, was not at all well +pleased at being forced to entertain Mrs. Houghton, whom she especially +disliked; but, circumstanced as they were, there was no alternative. +She had been put to bed with a dislocated arm, and had +already suffered much in having it reduced, before the matter could +be even discussed. And then it was of course felt that she could not<!-- Page 53 --> +be turned out of the house. She was not only generally hurt, but +she was a cousin, also. "We must ask him, mamma," Lady Sarah +said. The Marchioness whined piteously. Mr. Houghton's name had +always been held in great displeasure by the ladies at Manor Cross. +"I don't think we can help it. Mr. Sawyer"—Mr. Sawyer was the +very clever young surgeon from Brotherton—"Mr. Sawyer says that +she ought not to be removed for at any rate a week." The Marchioness +groaned. But the evil became less than had been anticipated, +by Mr. Houghton's refusal. At first, he seemed inclined to stay, but +after he had seen his wife he declared that, as there was no danger, +he would not intrude upon Lady Brotherton, but would, if permitted, +ride over and see how his wife was progressing on the morrow. +"That is a relief," said Lady Sarah to her mother; and yet Lady +Sarah had been almost urgent in assuring Mr. Houghton that they +would be delighted to have him.</p> + +<p>In spite of her suffering, which must have been real, and her +fainting, which had partly been so, Mrs. Houghton had had force +enough to tell her husband that he would himself be inexpressibly +bored by remaining at Manor Cross, and that his presence would inexpressibly +bore "all those dowdy old women," as she called the +ladies of the house. "Besides, what's the use?" she said; "I've got +to lay here for a certain time. You would not be any good at nursing. +You'd only kill yourself with ennui. I shall do well enough, and do +you go on with your hunting." He had assented; but finding her to +be well enough to express her opinion as to the desirability of his +absence strongly, thought that she was well enough, also, to be rebuked +for her late disobedience. He began, therefore, to say a word. +"Oh! Jeffrey, are you going to scold me," she said, "while I am in +such a state as this!" and then, again, she almost fainted. He knew +that he was being ill-treated, but knowing, also, that he could not +avoid it, he went away without a further word.</p> + +<p>But she was quite cheerful that evening when Lady George came up +to give her her dinner. She had begged that it might be so. She +had known "dear Mary" so long, and was so warmly attached to her. +"Dear Mary" did not dislike the occupation, which was soon found +to comprise that of being head nurse to the invalid. She had never +especially loved Adelaide De Baron, and had felt that there was +something amiss in her conversation when they had met at the +deanery; but she was brighter than the ladies at Manor Cross, was +affectionate in her manner, and was at any rate young. There was an +antiquity about every thing at Manor Cross, which was already +crushing the spirit of the young bride.</p> + +<p>"Dear me! this is nice," said Mrs. Houghton, disregarding, apparently +altogether, the pain of her shoulder; "I declare, I shall begin +to be glad of the accident!"</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't say that."<!-- Page 54 --></p> + +<p>"Why not, if I feel it? Doesn't it seem like a thing in a story +that I should be brought to Lord George's house, and that he was my +lover only quite the other day?" The idea had never occurred to +Mary, and now that it was suggested to her, she did not like it. "I +wonder when he'll come and see me. It would not make you jealous, +I hope."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. I think he's quite as much in love with you as ever +he was with me. And yet, he was very, very fond of me once. Isn't +it odd that men should change so?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you are changed, too," said Mary,—hardly knowing +what to say.</p> + +<p>"Well,—yes,—no. I don't know that I'm changed at all. I never +told Lord George that I loved him. And what's more, I never told +Mr. Houghton so. I don't pretend to be very virtuous, and of course +I married for an income. I like him very well, and I always mean to +be good to him; that is, if he lets me have my own way. I'm not +going to be scolded, and he need not think so."</p> + +<p>"You oughtn't to have gone on to-day, ought you?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? If my horse hadn't gone so very quick, and Mr. Price +at that moment hadn't gone so very slow, I shouldn't have come to +grief, and nobody would have known anything about it. Wouldn't +you like to ride?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I should like it. But are not you exerting yourself too +much?"</p> + +<p>"I should die if I were made to lie here without speaking to any +one. Just put the pillow a little under me. Now I'm all right. +Who do you think was going as well as anybody yesterday? I saw +him."</p> + +<p>"Who was it?"</p> + +<p>"The very Reverend the Dean of Brotherton, my dear."</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"But he was. I saw him jump the brook just before I fell into it. +What will Mr. Groschut say?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think papa cares much what Mr. Groschut says."</p> + +<p>"And the Bishop?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure that he cares very much for the Bishop either. But +I am quite sure that he would not do anything that he thought to +be wrong."</p> + +<p>"A Dean never does, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"My papa never does."</p> + +<p>"Nor Lord George, I dare say," said Mrs. Houghton.</p> + +<p>"I don't say anything about Lord George. I haven't known him +quite so long."</p> + +<p>"If you won't speak up for him, I will. I'm quite sure Lord +George Germain never in his life did anything that he ought not to<!-- Page 55 --> +do. That's his fault. Don't you like men who do what they ought +not to do?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Mary, "I don't. Everybody always ought to do what +they ought to do. And you ought to go to sleep, and so I shall go +away." She knew that it was not all right,—that there was something +fast, and also something vulgar, about this self-appointed friend +of hers. But though Mrs. Houghton was fast, and though she was +vulgar, she was a relief to the endless gloom of Manor Cross.</p> + +<p>On the next day Mr. Houghton came, explaining to everybody that +he had given up his day's hunting for the sake of his wife. But he +could say but little, and could do nothing, and he did not remain long. +"Don't stay away from the meet another day," his wife said to him; +"I shan't get well any the sooner, and I don't like being a drag upon +you." Then the husband went away, and did not come for the next +two days. On the Sunday he came over in the afternoon and stayed +for half-an-hour, and on the following Tuesday he appeared on his way +to the meet in top boots and a red coat. He was, upon the whole, +less troublesome to the Manor Cross people than might have been +expected.</p> + +<p>Mr. Price came every morning to enquire, and very gracious +passages passed between him and the lady. On the Saturday she was +up, sitting on a sofa in a dressing gown, and he was brought in to +see her. "It was all my fault, Mr. Price," she said immediately. "I +heard what Mr. Houghton said to you; I couldn't speak then, but +I was so sorry."</p> + +<p>"What a husband says, ma'am, at such a time, goes for nothing."</p> + +<p>"What husbands say, Mr. Price, very often does go for nothing." +He turned his hat in his hand, and smiled. "If it had not been so, +all this wouldn't have happened, and I shouldn't have upset you into +the water. But all the same, I hope you'll give me a lead another +day, and I'll take great care not to come so close to you again." +This pleased Mr. Price so much, that as he went home he swore to +himself that if ever she asked him again, he would do just the same +as he had done on the day of the accident.</p> + +<p>When Price, the farmer, had seen her, of course it became Lord +George's duty to pay her his compliments in person. At first he +visited her in company with his wife and Lady Sarah, and the conversation +was very stiff. Lady Sarah was potent enough to quell even +Mrs. Houghton. But later in the afternoon Lord George came back +again, his wife being in the room, and then there was a little more +ease. "You can't think how it grieves me," she said, "to bring all +this trouble upon you." She emphasised the word "you," as though +to show him that she cared nothing for his mother and sisters.</p> + +<p>"It is no trouble to me," said Lord George, bowing low. "I should +say that it was a pleasure, were it not that your presence here is +attended with so much pain to yourself."<!-- Page 56 --></p> + +<p>"The pain is nothing," said Mrs. Houghton. "I have hardly +thought of it. It is much more than compensated by the renewal of +my intimacy with Lady George Germain." This she said with her +very prettiest manner, and he told himself that she was, indeed, very +pretty.</p> + +<p>Lady George,—or Mary, as we will still call her, for simplicity, in +spite of her promotion,—had become somewhat afraid of Mrs. +Houghton; but now, seeing her husband's courtesy to her guest, +understanding from his manner that he liked her society, began to +thaw, and to think that she might allow herself to be intimate with +the woman. It did not occur to her to be in any degree jealous,—not, +at least, as yet. In her innocence she did not think it possible that +her husband's heart should be untrue to her, nor did it occur to her +that such a one as Mrs. Houghton could be preferred to herself. She +thought that she knew herself to be better than Mrs. Houghton, and +she certainly thought herself to be the better looking of the two.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Houghton's beauty, such as it was, depended mainly on style; +on a certain dash and manner which she had acquired, and which, to +another woman, were not attractive. Mary knew that she, herself, +was beautiful. She could not but know it. She had been brought up +by all belonging to her with that belief; and so believing, had taught +herself to acknowledge that no credit was due to herself on that score. +Her beauty now belonged entirely to her husband. There was nothing +more to be done with it, except to maintain her husband's love, and +that, for the present, she did not in the least doubt. She had heard +of married men falling in love with other people's wives, but she did +not in the least bring home the fact to her own case.</p> + +<p>In the course of that afternoon all the ladies of the family sat for a +time with their guest. First came Lady Sarah and Lady Susanna. +Mrs. Houghton, who saw very well how the land lay, rather snubbed +Lady Sarah. She had nothing to fear from the dragon of the <a name="tn_pg_65"></a><!-- TN: period added after "family"-->family. +Lady Sarah, in spite of their cousinship, had called her Mrs. Houghton, +and Mrs. Houghton, in return, called the other Lady Sarah. There +was to be no intimacy, and she was only received there because of her +dislocated shoulder. Let it be so. Lord George and his wife were +coming up to town, and the intimacy should be there. She certainly +would not wish to repeat her visit to Manor Cross.</p> + +<p>"Some ladies do like hunting, and some don't," she said, in answer +to a severe remark from Lady Sarah. "I am one of those who do, +and I don't think an accident like that has anything to do with it."</p> + +<p>"I can't say I think it an amusement fit for ladies," said Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>"I suppose ladies may do what clergymen do. The Dean jumped +over the brook just before me." There was not much of an argument +in this, but Mrs. Houghton knew that it would vex Lady Sarah, +because of the alliance between the Dean and the Manor Cross +family.<!-- Page 57 --></p> + +<p>"She's a detestable young woman," Lady Sarah said to her mother, +"and I can only hope that Mary won't see much of her up in town."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how she can, after what there has been between her +and George," said the innocent old lady. In spite, however, of this +strongly expressed opinion, the old lady made her visit, taking Lady +Amelia with her. "I hope, my dear, you find yourself getting +better."</p> + +<p>"So much better, Lady Brotherton! But I am so sorry to have +given you all this trouble; but it has been very pleasant to me to be +here, and to see Lord George and Mary together. I declare I think +hers is the sweetest face I ever looked upon. And she is so much +improved. That's what perfect happiness does. I do so like her."</p> + +<p>"We love her very dearly," said the Marchioness.</p> + +<p>"I am sure you do. And he is so proud of her!" Lady Sarah +had said that the woman was detestable, and therefore the Marchioness +felt that she ought to detest her. But, had it not been +for Lady Sarah, she would have been rather pleased with her guest +than otherwise. She did not remain very long, but promised that +she would return on the next day.</p> + +<p>On the following morning Mr. Houghton came again, staying only +a few minutes; and while he was in his wife's sitting-room, both Lord +George and Mary found them. As they were all leaving her together, +she contrived to say a word to her old lover. "Don't desert me all +the morning. Come and talk to me a bit. I am well now, though +they won't let me move about." In obedience to this summons, he +returned to her when his wife was called upon to attend to the ordinary +cloak and petticoat conclave of the other ladies. In regard to these +charitable meetings she had partly carried her own way. She had so +far thrown off authority as to make it understood that she was not to +be bound by the rules which her sisters-in-law had laid down for their +own guidance. But her rebellion had not been complete, and she still +gave them a certain number of weekly stitches. Lord George had +said nothing of his purpose; but for a full hour before luncheon he +was alone with Mrs. Houghton. If a gentleman may call on a lady in +her house, surely he may, without scandal, pay her a visit in his own. +That a married man should chat for an hour with another man's wife +in a country house is not much. Where is the man and where the +woman who has not done that, quite as a matter of course? And yet +when Lord George knocked at the door there was a feeling on him that +he was doing something in which he would not wish to be detected. +"This is so good of you," she said. "Do sit down; and don't run +away. Your mother and sisters have been here,—so nice of them, you +know; but everybody treats me as though I oughtn't to open my +mouth for above five minutes at a time. I feel as though I should +like to jump the brook again immediately."</p> + +<p>"Pray don't do that."<!-- Page 58 --></p> + +<p>"Well, no; not quite yet. You don't like hunting, I'm afraid?"</p> + +<p>"The truth is," said Lord George, "that I've never been able to +afford to keep horses."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's a reason. Mr. Houghton, of course, is a rich man; +but I don't know anything so little satisfactory in itself as being rich."</p> + +<p>"It is comfortable."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, it is comfortable; but so unsatisfactory! Of course Mr. +Houghton can keep any number of horses; but, what's the use, when +he never rides to hounds? Better not have them at all, I think. I am +very fond of hunting myself."</p> + +<p>"I daresay I should have liked it had it come in my way early in +life."</p> + +<p>"You speak of yourself as if you were a hundred years old. I know +your age exactly. You are just seventeen years younger than Mr. +Houghton!" To this Lord George had no reply to make. Of course +he had felt that when Miss De Baron had married Mr. Houghton she +had married quite an old man. "I wonder whether you were much +surprised when you heard that I was engaged to Mr. Houghton?"</p> + +<p>"I was, rather."</p> + +<p>"Because he is so old?"</p> + +<p>"Not that altogether."</p> + +<p>"I was surprised myself, and I knew that you would be. But what +was I to do?"</p> + +<p>"I think you have been very wise," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but you think I have been heartless. I can see it in your +eyes and hear it in your voice. Perhaps I was heartless;—but then I +was bound to be wise. A man may have a profession before him. He +may do anything. But what has a girl to think of? You say that +money is comfortable."</p> + +<p>"Certainly it is."</p> + +<p>"How is she to get it, if she has not got it of her own, like dear +Mary?"</p> + +<p>"You do not think that I have blamed you."</p> + +<p>"But even though you have not, yet I must excuse myself to you," +she said with energy, bending forward from her sofa towards him. +"Do you think that I do not know the difference?"</p> + +<p>"What difference?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, you shouldn't ask. I may hint at it, but you shouldn't ask. +But it wouldn't have done, would it?" Lord George hardly understood +what it was that wouldn't have done; but he knew that a +reference was being made to his former love by the girl he had loved; +and, upon the whole, he rather liked it. The flattery of such intrigues +is generally pleasant to men, even when they cannot bring their minds +about quick enough to understand all the little ins and outs of the +woman's manœuvres. "It is my very nature to be extravagant. Papa +has brought me up like that. And yet I had nothing that I could call<!-- Page 59 --> +my own. I had no right to marry any one but a rich man. You said +just now you couldn't afford to hunt."</p> + +<p>"I never could."</p> + +<p>"And I couldn't afford to have a heart. You said just now, too, +that money is very comfortable. There was a time when I should have +found it very, very comfortable to have had a fortune of my own."</p> + +<p>"You have plenty now."</p> + +<p>She wasn't angry with him, because she had already found out that +it is the nature of men to be slow. And she wasn't angry with him, +again, because, though he was slow, yet also was he evidently gratified. +"Yes," she said, "I have plenty now. I have secured so much. +I couldn't have done without a large income; but a large income +doesn't make me happy. It's like eating and drinking. One has to +eat and drink, but yet one doesn't care very much about it. Perhaps +you don't regret hunting very much?"</p> + +<p>"Yes I do, because it enables a man to know his neighbours."</p> + +<p>"I know that I regret the thing I couldn't afford."</p> + +<p>Then a glimmer of what she meant did come across him, and he +blushed. "Things will not always turn out as they are wanted," +he said. Then his conscience upbraided him, and he corrected himself. +"But, God knows that I have no reason to complain. I have +been fortunate."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed."</p> + +<p>"I sometimes think it is better to remember the good things we +have than to regret those that are gone."</p> + +<p>"That is excellent philosophy, Lord George. And therefore I go +out hunting, and break my bones, and fall into rivers, and ride about +with such men as Mr. Price. One has to make the best of it, hasn't +one? But you, I see, have no regrets."</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment, and then found himself driven to make +some attempt at gallantry. "I didn't quite say that," he replied.</p> + +<p>"You were able to re-establish yourself according to your own +tastes. A man can always do so. I was obliged to take whatever +came. I think that Mary is so nice."</p> + +<p>"I think so too, I can assure you."</p> + +<p>"You have been very fortunate to find such a girl; so innocent, so +pure, so pretty, and with a fortune too. I wonder how much difference +it would have made in your happiness if you had seen her before we +had ever been acquainted. I suppose we should never have known +each other then."</p> + +<p>"Who can say?"</p> + +<p>"No; no one can say. For myself, I own that I like it better as +it is. I have something to remember that I can be proud of."</p> + +<p>"And I something to be ashamed of."</p> + +<p>"To be ashamed of!" she said, almost rising in anger.</p> + +<p>"That you should have refused me!"<!-- Page 60 --></p> + +<p>She had got it at last. She had <a name="tn_pg_69"></a><!-- TN: second "made" removed-->made her fish rise to the fly. +"Oh, no," she said; "there can be nothing of that. If I did not +tell you plainly then, I tell you plainly now. I should have done +very wrong to marry a poor man."</p> + +<p>"I ought not to have asked you."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how that may be," she said in a very low voice, +looking down to the ground. "Some say that if a man loves he +should declare his love, let the circumstances be what they may. I +rather think that I agree with them. You at any rate knew that I +felt greatly honoured, though the honour was out of my reach." Then +there was a pause, during which he could find nothing to say. He +was trapped by her flattery, but he did not wish to betray his wife by +making love to the woman. He liked her words and her manner; but +he was aware that she was a thing sacred as being another man's wife. +"But it is all better as it is," she said with a laugh, "and Mary +Lovelace is the happiest girl of her year. I am so glad you are coming +to London, and do so hope you'll come and see me."</p> + +<p>"Certainly I will."</p> + +<p>"I mean to be such friends with Mary. There is no woman I like +so much. And then circumstances have thrown us together, haven't +they; and if she and I are friends, real friends, I shall feel that our +friendship may be continued,—yours and mine. I don't mean that all +this accident shall go for nothing. I wasn't quite clever enough to +contrive it; but I am very glad of it, because it has brought us once +more together, so that we may understand each other. Good-bye, +Lord George. Don't let me keep you longer now. I wouldn't have +Mary jealous, you know."</p> + +<p>"I don't think there is the least fear of that," he said in real displeasure.</p> + +<p>"Don't take me up seriously for my little joke," she said as she put +out her left hand. He took it, and once more smiled, and then left her.</p> + +<p>When she was alone there came a feeling on her that she had gone +through some hard work with only moderate success; and also a +feeling that the game was hardly worth the candle. She was not in +the least in love with the man, or capable of being in love with any +man. In a certain degree she was jealous, and felt that she owed +Mary Lovelace a turn for having so speedily won her own rejected +lover. But her jealousy was not strong enough for absolute malice. +She had formed no plot against the happiness of the husband and wife +when she came into the house; but the plot made itself, and she liked +the excitement. He was heavy,—certainly heavy; but he was very +handsome, and a lord; and then, too, it was much in her favour that +he certainly had once loved her dearly.</p> + +<p>Lord George, as he went down to lunch, felt himself to be almost +guilty, and hardly did more than creep into the room where his wife +and sisters were seated.<!-- Page 61 --></p> + +<p>"Have you been with Mrs. Houghton?" asked Lady Sarah in a +firm voice.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have been sitting with her for the last half hour," he +replied; but he couldn't answer the question without hesitation in his +manner. Mary, however, thought nothing about it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">THE DEAN AS A SPORTING MAN.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">In</span> Brotherton the Dean's performance in the run from Cross Hall +Holt was almost as much talked of as Mrs. Houghton's accident. +There had been rumours of things that he had done in the same line +after taking orders, when a young man,—of runs that he had ridden, +and even of visits which he had made to Newmarket and other wicked +places. But, as far as Brotherton knew, there had been nothing of +all this since the Dean had been a dean. Though he was constantly +on horseback, he had never been known to do more than perhaps +look at a meet, and it was understood through Brotherton generally +that he had forbidden his daughter to hunt. But now, no sooner was +his daughter married, and the necessity of setting an example to +her at an end, than the Dean, with a rosette in his hat,—for so the +story was told,—was after the hounds like a sporting farmer or a mere +country gentleman! On the very next day Mr. Groschut told the +whole story to the Bishop. But Mr. Groschut had not seen the performance, +and the Bishop affected to disbelieve it. "I'm afraid, my +lord," said the chaplain, "I'm afraid you'll find it's true." "If he +rides after every pack of dogs in the county, I don't know that I can +help it," said the Bishop. With this Mr. Groschut was by no means +inclined to agree. A bishop is as much entitled to cause inquiries to be +made into the moral conduct of a dean as of any country clergyman in +his diocese. "Suppose he were to take to gambling on the turf," said +Mr. Groschut, with much horror expressed in his tone and countenance. +"But riding after a pack of dogs isn't gambling on the turf," said the +Bishop, who, though he would have liked to possess the power of +putting down the Dean, by no means relished the idea of being beaten +in an attempt to do so.</p> + +<p>And Mr. Canon Holdenough heard of it. "My dear," he said to +his wife, "Manor Cross is coming out strong in the sporting way. +Not only is Mrs. Houghton laid up there with a broken limb, but +your brother's father-in-law took the brush on the same day."</p> + +<p>"The Dean!" said Lady Alice.</p> + +<p>"So they tell me."<!-- Page 62 --></p> + +<p>"He was always so particular in not letting Mary ride over a single +fence. He would hardly let her go to a meet on horseback."</p> + +<p>"Many fathers do what they won't let their daughters do. The +Dean has been always giving signs that he would like to break out a +little."</p> + +<p>"Can they do anything to him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear no;—not if he was to hunt a pack of hounds himself, as +far as I know."</p> + +<p>"But I suppose it's wrong, Canon," said the clerical wife.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I think it's wrong because it will scandalise. Everything that +gives offence is wrong, unless it be something that is on other grounds +expedient. If it be true we shall hear about it a good deal here, and +it will not contribute to brotherly love and friendship among us +clergymen."</p> + +<p>There was another canon at Brotherton, one Dr. Pountner, a red-faced +man, very fond of his dinner, a man of infinite pluck, and much +attached to the Cathedral, towards the reparation of which he had +contributed liberally. And, having an ear for music, he had done +much to raise the character of the choir. Though Dr. Pountner's +sermons were supposed to be the worst ever heard from the pulpit of +the Cathedral, he was, on account of the above good deeds, the most +popular clergyman in the city. "So I'm told you've been distinguishing +yourself, Mr. Dean," said the Doctor, meeting our friend in the +close.</p> + +<p>"Have I done so lately, more than is usual with me?" asked the +Dean, who had not hitherto heard of the rumour of his performances.</p> + +<p>"I am told that you were so much ahead the other day in the +hunting field, that you were unable to give assistance to the poor lady +who broke her arm."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's it! If I do anything at all, though I may do it but +once in a dozen years, I like to do it well, Dr. Pountner. I wish I +thought that you could follow my example, and take a little exercise. +It would be very good for you." The Doctor was a heavy man, and +hardly walked much beyond the confines of the Close or his own garden. +Though a bold man, he was not so ready as the Dean, and had no +answer at hand. "Yes," continued our friend, "I did go a mile or +two with them, and I enjoyed it amazingly. I wish with all my +heart there was no prejudice against clergymen hunting."</p> + +<p>"I think it would be an abominable practise," said Dr. Pountner, +passing on.</p> + +<p>The Dean himself would have thought nothing more about it had +there not appeared a few lines on the subject in a weekly newspaper +called the "Brotherton Church," which was held to be a pestilential +little rag by all the Close. Deans, canons, and minor canons were all +agreed as to this, Dr. Pountner hating the "Brotherton Church" +quite as sincerely as did the Dean. The "Brotherton Church" was<!-- Page 63 --> +edited nominally by a certain Mr. Grease,—a very pious man who had +long striven, but hitherto in vain, to get orders. But it was supposed +by many that the paper was chiefly inspired by Mr. Groschut. It was +always very laudatory of the Bishop. It had distinguished itself by +its elaborate opposition to ritual. Its mission was to put down popery +in the diocese of Brotherton. It always sneered at the Chapter +generally, and very often said severe things of the Dean. On +this occasion the paragraph was as follows; "There is a rumour +current that Dean Lovelace was out with the Brotherton foxhounds +last Wednesday, and that he rode with the pack all the day, leading +the field. We do not believe this, but we hope that for the sake of the +Cathedral and for his own sake, he will condescend to deny the report." +On the next Saturday there was another paragraph, with a reply from +the Dean; "We have received from the Dean of Brotherton the +following startling letter, which we publish without comment. What +our opinion on the subject may be our readers will understand.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<div class="start"> +<span class="letterstart">"Deanery, November, 187—<br></span> +</div> +<p>"Sir,—You have been correctly informed that I was out with the +Brotherton foxhounds on Wednesday week last. The other reports +which you have published, and as to which after publication, you have +asked for information, are unfortunately incorrect. I wish I could +have done as well as my enemies accuse me of doing.</p> + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature1">"I am, Sir,<br></span> +<span class="presignature2">"Your humble servant,<br></span> +<span class="smcap presignature3">"Henry Lovelace.<br></span> +</div> +<br> +"To the Editor of the 'Brotherton Church.'"<br> +</div> + +<p>The Dean's friends were unanimous in blaming him for having +taken any notice of the attack. The Bishop, who was at heart an +honest man and a gentleman, regretted it. All the Chapter were somewhat +ashamed of it. The Minor Canons were agreed that it was below +the dignity of a dean. Dr. Pountner, who had not yet forgotten the +allusion to his obesity, whispered in some clerical ear that nothing +better could be expected out of a stable; and Canon Holdenough, who +really liked the Dean in spite of certain differences of opinion, expostulated +with him about it.</p> + +<p>"I would have let it pass," said the Canon. "Why notice it at +all?"</p> + +<p>"Because I would not have any one suppose that I was afraid to +notice it. Because I would not have it thought that I had gone out +with the hounds and was ashamed of what I had done."</p> + +<p>"Nobody who knows you would have thought that."</p> + +<p>"I am proud to think that nobody who knows me would. I make +as many mistakes as another, and am sorry for them afterwards. But +I am never ashamed. I'll tell you what happened, not to justify my<!-- Page 64 --> +hunting, but to justify my letter. I was over at Manor Cross, and I +went to the meet, because Mary went. I have not done such a thing +before since I came to Brotherton, because there is,—what I will call +a feeling against it. When I was there I rode a field or two with +them, and I can tell you I enjoyed it."</p> + +<p>"I daresay you did."</p> + +<p>"Then, very soon after the fox broke, there was that brook at +which Mrs. Houghton hurt herself. I happened to jump it, and the +thing became talked about because of her accident. After that we +came out on the Brotherton road, and I went back to Manor Cross. Do +not suppose that I should have been ashamed of myself if I had gone +on even half a dozen more fields."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"The thing in itself is not bad. Nevertheless,—thinking as the world +around us does about hunting,—a clergyman in my position would be +wrong to hunt often. But a man who can feel horror at such a thing +as this is a prig in religion. If, as is more likely, a man affects horror, +he is a hypocrite. I believe that most clergymen will agree with me +in that; but there is no clergyman in the diocese of whose agreement +I feel more certain than of yours."</p> + +<p>"It is the letter, not the hunting, to which I object."</p> + +<p>"There was an apparent cowardice in refraining from answering +such an attack. I am aware, Canon, of a growing feeling of hostility +to myself."</p> + +<p>"Not in the Chapter?"</p> + +<p>"In the diocese. And I know whence it comes, and I think I +understand its cause. Let what will come of it I am not going to +knock under. I want to quarrel with no man, and certainly with no +clergyman,—but I am not going to be frightened out of my own +manner of life or my own manner of thinking by fear of a <a name="tn_pg_73"></a><!-- TN: end quote added-->quarrel."</p> + +<p>"Nobody doubts your courage; but what is the use of fighting +when there is nothing to win. Let that wretched newspaper alone. +It is beneath you and me, Dean."</p> + +<p>"Very much beneath us, and so is your butler beneath you. But +if he asks you a question, you answer him. To tell the truth I would +rather they should call me indiscreet than timid. If I did not feel that +it would be really wrong and painful to my friends I would go out +hunting three days next week, to let them know that I am not to be +cowed."</p> + +<p>There was a good deal said at Manor Cross about the newspaper +correspondence, and some condemnation of the Dean expressed by the +ladies, who thought that he had lowered himself by addressing a reply +to the editor. In the heat of discussion a word or two was spoken +by Lady Susanna,—who entertained special objections to all things +low,—which made Mary very angry. "I think papa is at any rate +a better judge than you can be," she said. Between sisters as<!-- Page 65 --> +sisters generally are, or even sisters-in-laws, this would not be +much; but at Manor Cross it was felt to be misconduct. Mary +was so much younger than they were! And then she was the +grand-daughter of a tradesman! No doubt they all thought that +they were willing to admit her among themselves on terms of equality; +but then there was a feeling among them that she ought to repay this +great goodness by a certain degree of humility and submission. From +day to day the young wife strengthened herself in a resolution that +she would not be humble and would not be submissive.</p> + +<p>Lady Susanna, when she heard the words, drew herself up with an +air of offended dignity. "Mary, dear," said Lady Sarah, "is not that +a little unkind?"</p> + +<p>"I think it is unkind to say that papa is indiscreet," said the Dean's +daughter. "I wonder what you'd all think if I were to say a word +against dear mamma." She had been specially instructed to call the +Marchioness mamma.</p> + +<p>"The Dean is not my father-in-law," said Lady Amelia, very +proudly, as though in making the suggestion, she begged it to be +understood that under no circumstances could such a connection have +been possible.</p> + +<p>"But he's my papa, and I shall stand up for him,—and I do say +that he must know more about such things than any lady." Then +Lady Susanna got up and marched majestically out of the room.</p> + +<p>Lord George was told of this, and found himself obliged to speak to +his wife. "I'm afraid there has been something between you and +Susanna, dear."</p> + +<p>"She abused papa, and I told her papa knew better than she did, +and then she walked out of the room."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose she meant to—abuse the Dean."</p> + +<p>"She called him names."</p> + +<p>"She said he was indiscreet."</p> + +<p>"That is calling him names."</p> + +<p>"No, my dear, indiscreet is an epithet; and even were it a noun +substantive, as a name must be, it could only be one name." It was +certainly very hard to fall in love with a man who could talk about +epithets so very soon after his marriage; but yet she would go on +trying. "Dear George," she said, "don't you scold me. I will do +anything you tell me, but I don't like them to say hard things of papa. +You are not angry with me for taking papa's part, are you?"</p> + +<p>He kissed her, and told her that he was not in the least angry with +her; but, nevertheless, he went on to insinuate, that if she could +bring herself to show something of submission to his sisters, it would +make her own life happier and theirs and his. "I would do anything +I could to make your life happy," she said.<!-- Page 66 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">LORD AND LADY GEORGE GO UP TO TOWN.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Time</span> went on, and the day arranged for the migration to +London came round. After much delicate fencing on one side +and the other, this was fixed for the 31st January. The fencing +took place between the Dean, acting on behalf of his daughter, +and the ladies of the Manor Cross family generally. They, though +they conceived themselves to have had many causes of displeasure +with Mary, were not the less anxious to keep her at Manor Cross. +They would all, at any moment, have gladly assented to an abandonment +of the London house, and had taught themselves to look upon +the London house as an allurement of Satan, most unwisely contrived +and countenanced by the Dean. And there was no doubt that, as the +Dean acted on behalf of his daughter, so did they act on behalf of +their brother. He could not himself oppose the London house; but +he disliked it and feared it, and now, at last, thoroughly repented +himself of it. But it had been a stipulation made at the marriage; +and the Dean's money had been spent. The Dean had been profuse +with his money, and had shown himself to be a more wealthy man +than any one at Manor Cross had suspected. Mary's fortune was no +doubt her own; but the furniture had been in a great measure supplied +by the Dean, and the Dean had paid the necessary premium on going +into the house. Lord George felt it to be impossible to change his +mind after all that had been done; but he had been quite willing to +postpone the evil day as long as possible.</p> + +<p>Lady Susanna was especially full of fears, and, it must be owned, +especially inimical to all Mary's wishes. She was the one who had +perhaps been most domineering to her brother's wife, and she was +certainly the one whose domination Mary resisted with the most +settled determination. There was a self-abnegation about Lady Sarah, +a downright goodness, and at the same time an easily-handled magisterial +authority, which commanded reverence. After three months of +residence at Manor Cross, Mary was willing to acknowledge that Lady +Sarah was more than a sister-in-law,—that her nature partook of divine +omnipotence, and that it compelled respect, whether given willingly or +unwillingly. But to none of the others would her spirit thus humble +itself, and especially not to Lady Susanna. Therefore Lady Susanna +was hostile, and therefore Lady Susanna was quite sure that Mary +would fall into great trouble amidst the pleasures of the metropolis.</p> + +<p>"After all," she said to her elder sister, "what is £1,500 a year to +keep up a house in London?"</p> + +<p>"It will only be for a few months," said Lady Sarah.<!-- Page 67 --></p> + +<p>"Of course she must have a carriage, and then George will find +himself altogether in the hands of the Dean. That is what I fear. +The Dean has done very well with himself, but he is not a man whom +I like to trust altogether."</p> + +<p>"He is at any rate generous with his money."</p> + +<p>"He is bound to be that, or he could not hold up his head at all. +He has nothing else to depend on. Did you hear what Dr. Pountner +said about him the other day? Since that affair with the newspaper, +he has gone down very much in the Chapter. I am sure of that."</p> + +<p>"I think you are a little hard upon him, Susanna."</p> + +<p>"You must feel that he is very wrong about this house in London. +Why is a man, because he's married, to be taken away from all his +own pursuits? If she could not accommodate herself to his tastes, +she should not have accepted him."</p> + +<p>"Let us be just," said Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, let us be just," said Lady Amelia, who in these conversations +seldom took much part, unless when called upon to support +her eldest sister.</p> + +<p>"Of course we should be just," said Lady Susanna.</p> + +<p>"She did not accept him," said Lady Sarah, "till he had agreed to +comply with the Dean's wish that they should spend part of their time +in London."</p> + +<p>"He was very weak," said Lady Susanna.</p> + +<p>"I wish it could have been otherwise," continued Lady Sarah; +"but we can hardly suppose that the tastes of a young girl from +Brotherton should be the same as ours. I can understand that Mary +should find Manor Cross dull."</p> + +<p>"Dull!" exclaimed Lady Susanna.</p> + +<p>"Dull!" ejaculated Lady Amelia, constrained on this occasion to +differ even from her eldest sister. "I can't understand that she +should find Manor Cross dull, particularly while she has her husband +with her."</p> + +<p>"The bargain, at any rate, was made," said Lady Sarah, "before +the engagement was settled; and as the money is hers, I do not think +we have a right to complain. I am very sorry that it should be so. +Her character is very far from being formed, and his tastes are so +completely fixed that nothing will change them."</p> + +<p>"And then there's that Mrs. Houghton!" said Lady Susanna. +Mrs. Houghton had of course left Manor Cross long since; but she +had left a most unsatisfactory feeling behind her in the minds of all +the Manor Cross ladies. This arose not only from their personal dislike, +but from a suspicion, a most agonising suspicion, that their +brother was more fond than he should have been of the lady's society. +It must be understood that Mary herself knew nothing of this, and +was altogether free from such suspicion. But the three sisters, and +the Marchioness under their tuition, had decided that it would be<!-- Page 68 --> +very much better that Lord George should see no more of Mrs. +Houghton. He was not, they thought, infatuated in such a fashion +that he would run to London after her; but, when in London, he +would certainly be thrown into her society. "I cannot bear to think +of it," continued Lady Susanna. Lady Amelia shook her head. "I +think, Sarah, you ought to speak to him seriously. No man has higher +ideas of duty than he has; and if he be made to think of it, he will +avoid her."</p> + +<p>"I have spoken," replied Lady Sarah, almost in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Well!"</p> + +<p>"Well!"</p> + +<p>"Was he angry?"</p> + +<p>"How did he bear it?"</p> + +<p>"He was not angry, but he did not bear it very well. He told me +that he certainly found her to be attractive, but that he thought he +had power enough to keep himself free from any such fault as that. +I asked him to promise me not to see her; but he declined to make a +promise which he said he might not be able to keep."</p> + +<p>"She is a horrid woman, and Mary. I am afraid, likes her," said +Lady Susanna. "I know that evil will come of it."</p> + +<p>Sundry scenes counter to this were enacted at the deanery. Mary +was in the habit of getting herself taken over to Brotherton more +frequently than the ladies liked; but it was impossible that they +should openly oppose her visits to her father. On one occasion, early +in January, she had got her husband to ride over with her, and +was closeted with the Dean while he was away in the city. "Papa," +she said, "I almost think that I'll give up the house in Munster +Court."</p> + +<p>"Give it up! Look here, Mary; you'll have no happiness in life +unless you can make up your mind not to allow those old ladies at +Manor Cross to sit upon you."</p> + +<p>"It is not for their sake. He does not like it, and I would do anything +for him."</p> + +<p>"That is all very well; and I would be the last to advise you to +oppose his wishes if I did not see that the effect would be to make +him subject to his sisters' dominion as well as you. Would you like +him to be always under their thumb?"</p> + +<p>"No, papa; I shouldn't like that."</p> + +<p>"It was because I foresaw all this that I stipulated so expressly as +I did that you should have a house of your own. Every woman, when +she marries, should be emancipated from other domestic control than +that of her husband. From the nature of Lord George's family this +would have been impossible at Manor Cross, and therefore I insisted +on a house in town. I could do this the more freely because the +wherewithal was to come from us, and not from them. Do not disturb +what I have done."<!-- Page 69 --></p> + +<p>"I will not go against you, of course, papa."</p> + +<p>"And remember always that this is to be done as much for his +sake as for yours. His position has been very peculiar. He has no +property of his own, and he has lived there with his mother and +sisters till the feminine influences of the house have almost domineered +him. It is your duty to assist in freeing him from this." Looking at +the matter in the light now presented to her, Mary began to think +that her father was right. "With a husband there should at any rate +be only one feminine influence," he added, laughing.</p> + +<p>"I shall not over rule him, and I shall not try," said Mary, smiling.</p> + +<p>"At any rate, do not let other women rule him. By degrees he +will learn to enjoy London society, and so will you. You will spend +half the year at Manor Cross or the deanery, and by degrees both he +and you will be emancipated. For myself, I can conceive nothing +more melancholy than would be his slavery and yours if you were to +live throughout the year with those old women." Then, too, he said +something to her of the satisfaction which she herself would receive +from living in London, and told her that, for her, life itself had hardly +as yet been commenced. She received her lessons with thankfulness +and gratitude, but with something of wonder that he should so openly +recommend to her a manner of life which she had hitherto been taught +to regard as worldly.</p> + +<p>After that no further hint was given to her that the house in London +might yet be abandoned. When riding back with her husband, she +had been clever enough to speak of the thing as a fixed certainty; +and he had then known that he also must regard it as fixed. "You +had better not say anything more about it," he said one day almost +angrily to Lady Susanna, and then nothing more had been said about +it—to him.</p> + +<p>There were other causes of confusion,—of terrible confusion,—at +Manor Cross, of confusion so great that from day to day the Marchioness +would declare herself unable to go through the troubles +before her. The workmen were already in the big house preparing +for the demolition and reconstruction of everything as soon as she +should be gone; and other workmen were already demolishing and +reconstructing Cross Hall. The sadness of all this and the weight on +the old lady's mind were increased by the fact that no member of the +family had received so much even as a message from the Marquis +himself since it had been decided that his wishes should not be +obeyed. Over and over again the dowager attempted to give way, +and suggested that they should all depart and be out of sight. It +seemed to her that when a marquis is a marquis he ought to have his +own way, though it be never so unreasonable. Was he not the head +of the family? But Lady Sarah was resolved, and carried her point. +Were they all to be pitched down in some strange corner, where they +would be no better than other women, incapable of doing good or<!-- Page 70 --> +exercising influence, by the wish of one man who had never done any +good anywhere, or used his own influence legitimately? Lady Sarah +was no coward, and Lady Sarah stuck to Cross Hall, though in doing so +she had very much to endure. "I won't go out, my Lady," said Price, +"not till the day when her Ladyship is ready to come in. I can put +up with things, and I'll see as all is done as your Ladyship wishes." +Price, though he was a sporting farmer, and though men were in +the habit of drinking cherry brandy at his house, and though naughty +things had been said about him, had in these days become Lady +Sarah's prime minister at Cross Hall, and was quite prepared in that +capacity to carry on war against the Marquis.</p> + +<p>When the day came for the departure of Mary and her husband, +a melancholy feeling pervaded the whole household. A cook had been +sent up from Brotherton who had lived at Manor Cross many years +previously. Lord George took a man who had waited on himself lately +at the old house, and Mary had her own maid who had come with +her when she married. They had therefore been forced to look for +but one strange servant. But this made the feeling the stronger that +they would all be strange up in London. This was so strong with +Lord George that it almost amounted to fear. He knew that he did +not know how to live in London. He belonged to the Carlton, as +became a conservative nobleman; but he very rarely entered it, and +never felt himself at home when he was there. And Mary, though she +had been quite resolved since the conversation with her father that +she would be firm about her house, still was not without her own +dread. She herself had no personal friends in town,—not one but +Mrs. Houghton, as to whom she heard nothing but evil words from +the ladies around her. There had been an attempt made to get one of +the sisters to go up with them for the first month. Lady Sarah had +positively refused, almost with indignation. Was it to be supposed that +she would desert her mother at so trying a time? Lady Amelia was then +asked, and with many regrets declined the invitation. She had not +dared to use her own judgment, and Lady Sarah had not cordially +advised her to go. Lady Sarah had thought that Lady Susanna +would be the most useful. But Lady Susanna was not asked. There +were a few words on the subject between Lord George and his wife. +Mary, remembering her father's advice, had determined that she +would not be sat upon, and had whispered to her husband that +Susanna was always severe to her. When, therefore, the time +came, they departed from Manor Cross without any protecting +spirit.</p> + +<p>There was something sad in this, even to Mary. She knew that +she was taking her husband away from the life he liked, and that she, +herself, was going to a life as to which she could not even guess, +whether she would like it or not. But she had the satisfaction of +feeling that she was at last going to begin to live as a married woman.<!-- Page 71 --> +Hitherto she had been treated as a child. If there was danger, there +was, at any rate, the excitement which danger produces. "I am +almost glad that we are going alone, George," she said. "It seems +to me that we have never been alone yet."</p> + +<p>He wished to be gracious and loving to her, and yet he was not +disposed to admit anything which might seem to imply that he had +become tired of living with his own family. "It is very nice, +but——"</p> + +<p>"But what, dear?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I am anxious about my mother just at present."</p> + +<p>"She is not to move for two months yet."</p> + +<p>"No,—not to move; but there are so many things to be done."</p> + +<p>"You can run down whenever you please?"</p> + +<p>"That's expensive; but of course it must be done."</p> + +<p>"Say that you'll like being with me alone." They had the compartment +of the railway carriage all to themselves, and she, as she +spoke, leaned against him, inviting him to caress her. "You +don't think it a trouble, do you, having to come and live with +me?" Of course he was conquered, and said, after his nature, what +prettiest things he could to her, assuring her that he would sooner live +with her than with any one in the world, and promising that he would +always endeavour to make her happy. She knew that he was doing +his best to be a loving husband, and she felt, therefore, that she was +bound to be loyal in her endeavours to love him; but at the same +time, at the very moment in which she was receiving his words with +outward show of satisfied love, her imagination was picturing to her +something else which would have been so immeasurably superior, if +only it had been possible.</p> + +<p>That evening they dined together, alone; and it was the first time +that they had ever done so, except at an inn. Never before had been +imposed on her the duty of seeing that his dinner was prepared for +him. There certainly was very little of duty to perform in the matter, +for he was a man indifferent as to what he ate, or what he drank. +The plainness of the table at Manor Cross had surprised Mary, after +the comparative luxury of the deanery. All her lessons at Manor +Cross had gone to show that eating was not a delectation to be held in +high esteem. But still she was careful that everything around him +should be nice. The furniture was new, the glasses and crockery +were new. Few, if any, of the articles used, had ever been handled +before. All her bridal presents were there; and no doubt there was +present to her mind the fact that everything in the house had in +truth been given to him by her. If only she could make the things +pleasant! If only he would allow himself to be taught that nice +things are nice! She hovered around him, touching him every now +and then with her light fingers, moving a lock of his hair, and then +stooping over him and kissing his brow. It might still be that she<!-- Page 72 --> +would be able to galvanise him into that lover's vitality, of which she +had dreamed. He never rebuffed her; he did not scorn her kisses, +or fail to smile when his hair was moved; he answered every word +she spoke to him carefully and courteously; he admired her pretty +things when called upon to admire them. But through it all, she was +quite aware that she had not galvanised him as yet.</p> + +<p>Of course there were books. Every proper preparation had been +made for rendering the little house pleasant. In the evening she took +from her shelf a delicate little volume of poetry, something exquisitely +bound, pretty to look at, and sweet to handle, and settled herself +down to be happy in her own drawing-room. But she soon looked up +from the troubles of Aurora Leigh to see what her husband was doing. +He was comfortable in his chair, but was busy with the columns of the +Brothershire Herald.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, George, have you brought that musty old paper up +here?"</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't I read the Herald here, as well as at Manor +Cross?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes, if you like it."</p> + +<p>"Of course I want to know what is being done in the county." +But when next she looked, the county had certainly faded from his +mind, for he was fast asleep.</p> + +<p>On that occasion she did not care very much for Aurora Leigh. +Her mind was hardly tuned to poetry of that sort. The things around +her were too important to allow her mind to indulge itself with +foreign cares. And then she found herself looking at the watch. +At Manor Cross ten o'clock every night brought all the servants into +the drawing-room. First the butler would come and place the chairs, +and then the maids, and then the coachman and footman would follow. +Lord George read the prayers, and Mary had always thought them to +be very tiring. But she now felt that it would almost be a relief if +the butler would come in and place the chairs.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">MISS MILDMAY AND JACK DE BARON.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Lady George</span> was not left long in her new house without visitors. +Early on the day after her arrival, Mrs. Houghton came to her, and +began at once, with great volubility, to explain how the land lay, +and to suggest how it should be made to lie for the future. "I +am so glad you have come. As soon, you know, as they positively +forbade me to get on horseback again this winter, I made up<!-- Page 73 --> +my mind to come to town. What is there to keep me down there if I +don't ride? I promised to obey if I was brought here,—and to disobey +if I was left there. Mr. Houghton goes up and down, you know. It +is hard upon him, poor old fellow. But then the other thing would +be harder on me. He and papa are together somewhere now, arranging +about the spring meetings. They have got their stables joined, and I +know very well who will have the best of that. A man has to get up +very early to see all round papa. But Mr. Houghton is so rich, it +doesn't signify. And now, my dear, what are you going to do? and +what is Lord George going to do? I am dying to see Lord George. +I dare say you are getting a little tired of him by this time."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I'm not."</p> + +<p>"You haven't picked up courage enough yet to say so; that's it, my +dear. I've brought cards from Mr. Houghton, which means to say +that though he is down somewhere at Newmarket in the flesh he is +to be supposed to have called upon you and Lord George. And now we +want you both to come and dine with us on Monday. I know Lord +George is particular, and so I've brought a note. You can't have +anything to do yet, and of course you'll come. Houghton will be back +on Sunday, and goes down again on Tuesday morning. To hear him +talk about it you'd think he was the keenest man in England across +a country. Say that you'll come."</p> + +<p>"I'll ask Lord George."</p> + +<p>"Fiddle de dee. Lord George will be only too delighted to come +and see me. I've got such a nice cousin to introduce to you; not one +of the Germain sort, you know, who are all perhaps a little slow. +This man is Jack De Baron, a nephew of papa's. He's in the Coldstreams, +and I do think you'll like him. There's nothing on earth he +can't do, from waltzing down to polo. And old Mildmay will be there, +and Guss Mildmay, who is dying in love with Jack."</p> + +<p>"And is Jack dying in love with Guss?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! dear no; not a bit. You needn't be afraid. Jack De Baron +has just £500 a year and his commission, and must, I should say, be +over head and ears in debt. Miss Mildmay may perhaps have £5,000 +for her fortune. Put this and that together, and you can hardly see +anything comfortable in the way of matrimony, can you?"</p> + +<p>"Then I fear your——Jack is mercenary."</p> + +<p>"Mercenary;—of course he's mercenary. That is to say, he doesn't +want to go to destruction quite at one leap. But he's awfully fond of +falling in love, and when he is in love he'll do almost anything,—except +marry."</p> + +<p>"Then if I were you, I shouldn't ask—Guss to meet him."</p> + +<p>"She can fight her own battles, and wouldn't thank me at all if I +were to fight them for her after that fashion. There'll be nobody else +except Houghton's sister, Hetta. You never met Hetta Houghton?"</p> + +<p>"I've heard of her."<!-- Page 74 --></p> + +<p>"I should think so. 'Not to know her,'—I forget the words; but +if you don't know Hetta Houghton, you're just nowhere. She has +lots of money, and lives all alone, and says whatever comes uppermost, +and does what she pleases. She goes everywhere, and is up to everything. +I always made up my mind I wouldn't be an old maid, but I +declare I envy Hetta Houghton. But then she'd be nothing unless +she had money. There'll be eight of us, and at this time of the year +we dine at half-past seven, sharp. Can I take you anywhere? The +carriage can come back with you?"</p> + +<p>"Thank you, no. I am going to pick Lord George up at the +Carlton at four."</p> + +<p>"How nice! I wonder how long you'll go on picking up Lord +George at the Carlton."</p> + +<p>She could only suppose, when her friend was gone, that this was the +right kind of thing. No doubt Lady Susanna had warned her against +Mrs. Houghton, but then she was not disposed to take Lady Susanna's +warnings on any subject. Her father had known that she intended to +know the woman; and her father, though he had cautioned her very +often as to the old women at Manor Cross, as he called them, had never +spoken a word of caution to her as to Mrs. Houghton. And her +husband was well aware of the intended intimacy. She picked up her +husband, and rather liked being kept waiting a few minutes at the +club door in her brougham. Then they went together to look at a new +picture, which was being exhibited by gas-light in Bond Street, and +she began to feel that the pleasures of London were delightful. +"Don't you think those two old priests are magnificent?" she +said, pressing on his arm, in the obscurity of the darkened chamber. +"I don't know that I care much about old priests," said Lord +George.</p> + +<p>"But the heads are so fine."</p> + +<p>"I dare say. Sacerdotal pictures never please me. Didn't you +say you wanted to go to Swann and Edgar's?" He would not sympathize +with her about pictures, but perhaps she would be able to find +out his taste at last.</p> + +<p>He seemed quite well satisfied to dine with the Houghtons, and did, +in fact, call at the house before that day came round. "I was in +Berkeley Square this morning," he said one day, "but I didn't find +any one."</p> + +<p>"Nobody ever is at home, I suppose," she said. "Look here. +There have been Lady Brabazon, and Mrs. Patmore Green, and Mrs. +Montacute Jones. Who is Mrs. Montacute Jones?"</p> + +<p>"I never heard of her."</p> + +<p>"Dear me; how very odd. I dare say it was kind of her to come. +And yesterday the Countess of Care called. Is not she some relative?"</p> + +<p>"She is my mother's first <a name="tn_pg_83"></a><!-- TN: end quote added-->cousin.<!-- Page 75 -->"</p> + +<p>"And then there was dear old Miss Tallowax. And I wasn't at +home to see one of them."</p> + +<p>"No one I suppose ever is at home in London unless they fix a day +for seeing people."</p> + +<p>Lady George, having been specially asked to come "sharp" to her +friend's dinner party, arrived with her husband exactly at the hour +named, and found no one in the drawing-room. In a few minutes Mrs. +Houghton hurried in, apologising. "It's all Mr. Houghton's fault +indeed, Lord George. He was to have been in town yesterday, but +would stay down and hunt to-day. Of course the train was late, and +of course he was so tired that he couldn't dress without going to sleep +first." As nobody else came for a quarter of an hour Mrs. Houghton +had an opportunity of explaining some things. "Has Mrs. Montacute +Jones called? I suppose you were out of your wits to find out who +she was. She's a very old friend of papa's, and I asked her to call. +She gives awfully swell parties, and has no end of money. She was +one of the Montacutes of Montacute, and so she sticks her own name +on to her husband's. He's alive, I believe, but he never shews. I +think she keeps him somewhere down in Wales."</p> + +<p>"How odd!"</p> + +<p>"It is a little queer, but when you come to know her you'll find it +will make no difference. She's the ugliest old woman in London, but +I'd be as ugly as she is to have her diamonds."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Your husband cares about your appearance," said Mrs. Houghton, +turning her eyes upon Lord George. He simpered and looked pleased +and did not seem to be at all disgusted by their friend's slang, and yet +had she talked of "awfully swell" parties, he would, she was well +aware, have rebuked her seriously.</p> + +<p>Miss Houghton—Hetta Houghton—was the first to arrive, and she +somewhat startled Mary by the gorgeous glories of her dress, though +Mrs. Houghton afterwards averred that she wasn't "a patch upon +Mrs. Montacute Jones." But Miss Houghton was a lady, and though +over forty years of age, was still handsome.</p> + +<p>"Been hunting to-day, has he?" she said. "Well, if he likes it, I +shan't complain. But I thought he liked his ease too well to travel +fifty miles up to town after riding about all day."</p> + +<p>"Of course he's knocked up, and at his age it's quite absurd," said +the young wife. "But Hetta, I want you to know my particular +friend Lady George Germain. Lord George, if he'll allow me to say +so, is a cousin, though I'm afraid we have to go back to Noah to make +it out."</p> + +<p>"Your great-grandmother was my great-grandmother's sister. That's +not so very far off."</p> + +<p>"When you get to grandmothers no fellow can understand it, can +they, Mary?" Then came Mr. and Miss Mildmay. He was a gray-<!-- Page 76 -->haired +old gentleman, rather short and rather fat, and she looked to +be just such another girl as Mrs. Houghton herself had been, though +blessed with more regular beauty. She was certainly handsome, but +she carried with her that wearied air of being nearly worn out by the +toil of searching for a husband which comes upon some young women +after the fourth or fifth year of their labours. Fortune had been very +hard upon Augusta Mildmay. Early in her career she had fallen in +love, while abroad, with an Italian nobleman, and had immediately +been carried off home by her anxious parents. Then in London +she had fallen in love again with an English nobleman, an eldest son, +with wealth of his own. Nothing could be more proper, and the +young man had fallen also in love with her. All her friends were +beginning to hate her with virulence, so lucky had she been! When +on a sudden, the young lord told her that the match would not please +his father and mother, and that therefore there must be an end of +it. What was there to be done! All London had talked of it; all +London must know the utter failure. Nothing more cruel, more +barefaced, more unjust had ever been perpetrated. A few years +since all the Mildmays in England, one after another, would have +had a shot at the young nobleman. But in these days there seems +to be nothing for a girl to do but to bear it and try again. So +Augusta Mildmay bore it and did try again; tried very often again. +And now she was in love with Jack De Baron. The worst of Guss +Mildmay was that, through it all, she had a heart and would like the +young men,—would like them, or perhaps dislike them, equally to +her disadvantage. Old gentlemen, such as was Mr. Houghton, had +been willing to condone all her faults, and all her loves, and to take +her as she was. But when the moment came, she would not have her +Houghton, and then she was in the market again. Now a young +woman entering the world cannot make a greater mistake than not to +know her own line, or, knowing it, not to stick to it. Those who are +thus weak are sure to fall between two stools. If a girl chooses to +have a heart, let her marry the man of her heart, and take her mutton +chops and bread and cheese, her stuff gown and her six children, as +they may come. But if she can decide that such horrors are horrid +to her, and that they must at any cost be avoided, then let her take +her Houghton when he comes, and not hark back upon feelings and +fancies, upon liking and loving, upon youth and age. If a girl has +money and beauty too, of course she can pick and choose. Guss Mildmay +had no money to speak of, but she had beauty enough to win +either a working barrister or a rich old sinner. She was quite able to +fall in love with the one and flirt with the other at the same time; +but when the moment for decision came, she could not bring herself +to put up with either. At present she was in real truth in love with +Jack De Baron, and had brought herself to think that if Jack would +ask her, she would risk everything. But were he to do so, which was<!-- Page 77 --> +not probable, she would immediately begin to calculate what could be +done by Jack's moderate income and her own small fortune. She and +Mrs. Houghton kissed each other affectionately, being at the present +moment close in each other's confidences, and then she was introduced +to Lady George. "Adelaide hasn't a chance," was Miss Mildmay's +first thought as she looked at the young wife.</p> + +<p>Then came Jack De Baron. Mary was much interested in seeing a +man of whom she had heard so striking an account, and for the love +of whom she had been told that a girl was almost dying. Of course +all that was to be taken with many grains of salt; but still the fact of +the love and the attractive excellence of the man had been impressed +upon her. She declared to herself at once that his appearance was +very much in his favour, and a fancy passed across her mind that he was +somewhat like that ideal man of whom she herself had dreamed, ever +so many years ago as it seemed to her now, before she had made up +her mind that she would change her ideal and accept Lord George +Germain. He was about the middle height, light haired, broad +shouldered, with a pleasant smiling mouth and well formed nose; but +above all, he had about him that pleasure-loving look, that appearance +of taking things jauntily and of enjoying life, which she in her young +girlhood had regarded as being absolutely essential to a pleasant lover. +There are men whose very eyes glance business, whose every word +imports care, who step as though their shoulders were weighed with +thoughtfulness, who breathe solicitude, and who seem to think that +all the things of life are too serious for smiles. Lord George was such +a man, though he had in truth very little business to do. And then +there are men who are always playfellows with their friends, who—even +should misfortune be upon them,—still smile and make the best of +it, who come across one like sunbeams, and who, even when tears are +falling, produce the tints of a rainbow. Such a one Mary Lovelace +had perhaps seen in her childhood and had then dreamed of him. +Such a one was Jack De Baron, at any rate to the eye.</p> + +<p>And such a one in truth he was. Of course the world had spoiled +him. He was in the Guards. He was fond of pleasure. He was +fairly well off in regard to all his own wants, for his cousin had simply +imagined those debts with which ladies are apt to believe that young +men of pleasure must be overwhelmed. He had gradually taught himself +to think that his own luxuries and his own comforts should in his own +estimation be paramount to everything. He was not naturally selfish, +but his life had almost necessarily engendered selfishness. Marrying +had come to be looked upon as an evil,—as had old age;—not of course +an unavoidable evil, but one into which a man will probably fall +sooner or later. To put off marriage as long as possible, and when it +could no longer be put off to marry money was a part of his creed. +In the meantime the great delight of his life came from women's +society. He neither gambled nor drank. He hunted and fished, and<!-- Page 78 --> +shot deer and grouse, and occasionally drove a coach to Windsor. But +little love affairs, flirtation, and intrigues, which were never intended +to be guilty, but which now and again had brought him into some +trouble, gave its charm to his life. On such occasions he would too, at +times, be very badly in love, assuring himself sometimes with absolute +heroism that he would never again see this married woman, or declaring +to himself in moments of self-sacrificial grandness that he would at +once marry that unmarried girl. And then, when he had escaped from +some especial trouble, he would take to his regiment for a month, +swearing to himself that for the next year he would see no women +besides his aunts and his grandmother. When making this resolution +he might have added his cousin Adelaide. They were close friends, but +between them there had never been the slightest spark of a flirtation.</p> + +<p>In spite of all his little troubles Captain De Baron was a very +popular man. There was a theory abroad about him that he always +behaved like a gentleman, and that his troubles were misfortunes +rather than faults. Ladies always liked him, and his society was +agreeable to men because he was neither selfish nor loud. He talked +only a little, but still enough not to be thought dull. He never +bragged or bullied or bounced. He didn't want to shoot more deer +or catch more salmon than another man. He never cut a fellow down +in the hunting-field. He never borrowed money, but would sometimes +lend it when a reason was given. He was probably as ignorant +as an owl of anything really pertaining to literature, but he did not +display his ignorance. He was regarded by all who knew him as one +of the most fortunate of men. He regarded himself as being very far +from blessed, knowing that there must come a speedy end to the things +which he only half enjoyed, and feeling partly ashamed of himself in +that he had found for himself no better part.</p> + +<p>"Jack," said Mrs. Houghton, "I can't blow you up for being +late, because Mr. Houghton has not yet condescended to shew himself. +Let me introduce you to Lady George Germain." Then he smiled in +his peculiar way, and Mary thought his face the most beautiful she +had ever seen. "Lord George Germain,—who allows me to call him +my cousin, though he isn't as near as you are. My sister-in-law, you +know." Jack shook hands with the old lady in his most cordial +manner. "I think you have seen Mr. Mildmay before, and Miss +Mildmay." Mary could not but look at the greeting between the +two, and she saw that Miss Mildmay almost turned up her nose at +him. She was quite sure that Mrs. Houghton had been wrong about +the love. There had surely only been a pretence of love. But Mrs. +Houghton had been right, and Mary had not yet learned to read correctly +the signs which men and women hang out.</p> + +<p>At last Mr. Houghton came down. "Upon my word," said his +wife, "I wonder you ain't ashamed to shew yourself."</p> + +<p>"Who says I'm not ashamed? I'm very much ashamed. But<!-- Page 79 --> +how can I help it if the trains won't keep their time? We were hunting +all day to-day,—nothing very good, Lord George, but on the +trot from eleven to four. That tires a fellow, you know. And the +worst of it is I've got to do it again on Wednesday, Thursday, and +Saturday."</p> + +<p>"Is there a necessity?" asked Lord George.</p> + +<p>"When a man begins that kind of thing he must go through with +it. Hunting is like women. It's a jealous sport. Lady George, +may I take you down to dinner? I am so sorry to have kept you +waiting."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">MORE NEWS FROM ITALY.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Mr. Houghton</span> took Lady George down to dinner; but Jack De +Baron sat on his left hand. Next to him was Augusta Mildmay, who +had been consigned to his care. Then came Lord George sitting +opposite to his host at a round table, with Mrs. Houghton at his right +hand. Mrs. Mildmay and Miss Hetta Houghton filled up the vacant +places. To all this a great deal of attention had been given by the +hostess. She had not wished to throw her cousin Jack and Miss Mildmay +together. She would probably have said to a confidential friend +that "there had been enough of all that." In her way she liked Guss +Mildmay; but Guss was not good enough to marry her cousin. Guss +herself must know that such a marriage was impossible. She had on +an occasion said a word or two to Guss upon the subject. She had +thought that a little flirtation between Jack and her other friend Lady +George might put things right; and she had thought, too,—or perhaps +felt rather than thought,—that Lord George had emancipated himself +from the thraldom of his late love rather too quickly. Mary was a +dear girl. She was quite prepared to make Mary her friend, being in +truth somewhat sick of the ill-humours and disappointments of Guss +Mildmay; but it might be as well that Mary should be a little checked +in her triumph. She herself had been obliged to put up with old Mr. +Houghton. She never for a moment told herself that she had done +wrong; but of course she required compensation. When she was +manœuvring she never lost sight of her manœuvres. She had had all +this in her mind when she made up her little dinner-party. She had +had it all in her mind when she arranged the seats. She didn't want +to sit next to Jack herself, because Jack would have talked to her to +the exclusion of Lord George, so she placed herself between Lord +George and Mr. Mildmay. It had been necessary that Mr. Mildmay +should take Miss Houghton down to dinner, and therefore she could<!-- Page 80 --> +not separate Guss from Jack De Baron. Anybody who understands +dinner-parties will see it all at a glance. But she was convinced that +Jack would devote himself to Lady George at his left hand; and so +he did.</p> + +<p>"Just come up to town, haven't you?" said Jack.</p> + +<p>"Only last week."</p> + +<p>"This is the nicest time in the year for London, unless you do a +deal of hunting; then it's a grind."</p> + +<p>"I never hunt at all; Lord George won't let me."</p> + +<p>"I wish some one wouldn't let me. It would save me a deal of +money, and a great deal of misery. It's all a delusion and a snare. +You never get a run nowadays."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so? I'd rather hunt than do anything."</p> + +<p>"That's because you are not let to do it; the perversity of human +nature, you know! The only thing I'm not allowed to do is to marry, +and it's the only thing I care for."</p> + +<p>"Who prevents it, Captain de Baron?"</p> + +<p>"There's a new order come out from the Horse Guards yesterday. +No one under a field officer is to marry unless he has got £2,000 +a year."</p> + +<p>"Marrying is cheaper than hunting."</p> + +<p>"Of course, Lady George, you may buy your horses cheap or +dear, and you may do the same with your wives. You may have a +cheap wife who doesn't care for dress, and likes to sit at home and +read good books."</p> + +<p>"That's just what I do."</p> + +<p>"But then they're apt to go wrong and get out of order."</p> + +<p>"How do you mean? I shan't get out of order, I hope."</p> + +<p>"The wheels become rusty, don't you think? and then they won't +go as they ought. They scold and turn up their noses. What I want +to find is perfect beauty, devoted affection, and £50,000."</p> + +<p>"How modest you are."</p> + +<p>In all this badinage there was not much to make a rival angry; but +Miss Mildmay, who heard a word or two now and then, was angry. +He was talking to a pretty woman about marriage and money, and of +course that amounted to flirtation. Lord George, on her other hand, +now and then said a word to her; but he was never given to saying +many words, and his attention was nearly monopolised by his hostess. +She had heard the last sentence, and determined to join the conversation.</p> + +<p>"If you had the £50,000, Captain De Baron," she said, "I think +you would manage to do without the beauty and the devoted affection."</p> + +<p>"That's ill-natured, Miss Mildmay, though it may be true. Beggars +can't be choosers. But you've known me a long time, and I think it's +unkind that you should run me down with a new acquaintance. Suppose +I was to say something bad of you."<!-- Page 81 --></p> + +<p>"You can say whatever you please, Captain De Baron."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing bad to say, of course, except that you are always +down on a poor fellow in distress. Don't you think it's a grand thing +to be good-natured, Lady George?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do. It's almost better than being virtuous."</p> + +<p>"Ten to one. I don't see the good of virtue myself. It always +makes people stingy and cross and ill-mannered. I think one should +always promise to do everything that is asked. Nobody would be +fool enough to expect you to keep your word afterwards, and you'd +give a lot of pleasure."</p> + +<p>"I think promises ought to be kept, Captain De Baron."</p> + +<p>"I can't agree to that. That's bondage, and it puts an embargo on +the pleasant way of living that I like. I hate all kind of strictness, +and duty, and self-denying, and that kind of thing. It's rubbish. +Don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose one has to do one's duty."</p> + +<p>"I don't see it. I never do mine."</p> + +<p>"Suppose there were a battle to fight."</p> + +<p>"I should get invalided at once. I made up my mind to that long +ago. Fancy the trouble of it. And when they shoot you they don't +shoot you dead, but knock half your face away, or something of that +sort. Luckily we live in an island, and haven't much fighting to do. +If we hadn't lived in an island I should never have gone into the +army."</p> + +<p>This was not flirting certainly. It was all sheer nonsense,—words +without any meaning in them. But Mary liked it. She decidedly +would not have liked it had it ever occurred to her that the man was +flirting with her. It was the very childishness of the thing that pleased +her,—the contrast to conversation at Manor Cross, where no childish +word was ever spoken. And though she was by no means prepared to +flirt with Captain De Baron, still she found in him something of the +realisation of her dreams. There was the combination of manliness, +playfulness, good looks, and good humour which she had pictured to +herself. To sit well-dressed in a well-lighted room and have nonsense +talked to her suited her better than a petticoat conclave. And she +knew of no harm in it. Her father encouraged her to be gay, and +altogether discouraged petticoat conclaves. So she smiled her sweetest +on Captain De Baron, and replied to his nonsense with other nonsense, +and was satisfied.</p> + +<p>But Guss Mildmay was very much dissatisfied, both as to the amusement +of the present moment and as to the conduct of Captain De +Baron generally. She knew London life well, whereas Lady George +did not know it at all; and she considered that this was flirtation. +She may have been right in any accusation which she made in her +heart against the man, but she was quite wrong in considering Lady +George to be a flirt. She had, however, grievances of her own—great<!-- Page 82 --> +grievances. It was not only that the man was attentive to some one +else, but that he was not attentive to her. He and she had had many +passages in life together, and he owed it to her at any rate not to +appear to neglect her. And then what a stick was that other man on +the other side of her,—that young woman's husband! During the +greater part of dinner she was sitting speechless,—not only loverless, +but manless. It is not what one suffers that kills one, but what one +knows that other people see that one suffers.</p> + +<p>There was not very much conversation between Lord George and +Mrs. Houghton at dinner. Perhaps she spoke as much to Mr. Mildmay +as to him; for she was a good hostess, understanding and performing +her duty. But what she did say to him she said very graciously, +making allusions to further intimacy between herself and Mary, +flattering his vanity by little speeches as to Manor Cross, always +seeming to imply that she felt hourly the misfortune of having been +forced to decline the honour of such an alliance as had been offered +to her. He was, in truth, as innocent as his wife, except in this, that +he would not have wished her to hear all that Mrs. Houghton said to +him, whereas Mary would have had not the slightest objection to his +hearing all the nonsense between her and Captain De Baron.</p> + +<p>The ladies sat a long time after dinner, and when they went Mrs. +Houghton asked her husband to come up in ten minutes. They did +not remain much longer, but during those ten minutes Guss Mildmay +said something of her wrongs to her friend, and Lady George heard +some news from Miss Houghton. Miss Houghton had got Lady George +on to a sofa, and was talking to her about Brotherton and Manor +Cross. "So the Marquis is coming," she said. "I knew the Marquis +years ago, when we used to be staying with the De Barons,—Adelaide's +father and mother. She was alive then, and the Marquis used to come +over there. So he has married?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; an Italian."</p> + +<p>"I did not think he would ever marry. It makes a difference to +you;—does it not?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think of such things."</p> + +<p>"You will not like him, for he is the very opposite to Lord George."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I shall ever even see him. I don't think he +wants to see any of us."</p> + +<p>"I dare say not. He used to be very handsome, and very fond of +ladies' society,—but, I think, the most selfish human being I ever knew +in my life. That is a complaint that years do not cure. He and I +were great friends <a name="tn_pg_91"></a><!-- TN: end quote added-->once."</p> + +<p>"Did you quarrel?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear no. I had rather a large fortune of my own, and there +was a time in which he was, perhaps, a little in want of money. But +they had to build a town on his property in Staffordshire, and you see +that did instead."<!-- Page 83 --></p> + +<p>"Did instead!" said Lady George, altogether in the dark.</p> + +<p>"There was suddenly a great increase to his income, and, of course, +that altered his view. I am bound to say that he was very explicit. +He could be so without suffering himself, or understanding that any +one else would suffer. I tell you because you are one of the family, +and would, no doubt, hear it all some day through Adelaide. I had a +great escape."</p> + +<p>"And he a great misfortune," said Mary civilly.</p> + +<p>"I think he had, to tell you the truth. I am good-tempered, long-suffering, +and have a certain grain of sagacity that might have been +useful to him. Have you heard about this Italian lady?"</p> + +<p>"Only that she is an Italian lady."</p> + +<p>"He is about my age. If I remember rightly there is hardly a +month or two between us. She is three or four years older."</p> + +<p>"You knew her then?"</p> + +<p>"I knew of her. I have been curious enough to enquire, which is, I +dare say, more than any body has done at Manor Cross."</p> + +<p>"And is she so old?"</p> + +<p>"And a widow. They have been married, you know, over twelve +months; nearly two years, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Surely not; we heard of it only since our own marriage."</p> + +<p>"Exactly; but the Marquis was always fond of a little mystery. +It was the news of your marriage that made him hint at the possibility +of such a thing; and he did not tell the fact till he had made up his +mind to come home. I do not know that he has told all now."</p> + +<p>"What else is there?"</p> + +<p>"She has a baby,—a <a name="tn_pg_92"></a><!-- TN: End quote added after "boy."-->boy." Mary felt that the colour flew to her +cheeks; but she knew that it did so, not from any disappointment of +her own, not because these tidings were in truth a blow to her, but +because others,—this lady, for instance,—would think that she suffered. +"I am afraid it is so," said Miss Houghton.</p> + +<p>"She may have twenty, for what I care," said Mary, recovering +herself.</p> + +<p>"I think Lord George ought to know."</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall tell him what you told me. I am sorry that he +is not nice, that's all. I should have liked a brother-in-law that I +could have loved. And I wish he had married an English woman. I +think English women are best for English men."</p> + +<p>"I think so too. I am afraid you will none of you like the lady. +She cannot speak a word of English. Of course you will use my name +in telling Lord George. I heard it all from a friend of mine who is +married to one of the Secretaries at the Embassy." Then the gentlemen +came in, and Mary began to be in a hurry to get away that she +might tell this news to her husband.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Guss Mildmay made her complaints, deep but not +loud. She and Mrs. Houghton had been very intimate as girls, knew<!-- Page 84 --> +each other's secrets, and understood each other's characters. "Why +did you have him to such a party as this?" said Guss.</p> + +<p>"I told you he was coming."</p> + +<p>"But you didn't tell me about that young woman. You put him +next to her on purpose to annoy me."</p> + +<p>"That's nonsense. You know as well as I do that nothing can come +of it. You must drop it, and you'd better do it at once. You don't +want to be known as the girl who is dying for the love of a man she +can't marry. That's not your métier."</p> + +<p>"That's my own affair. If I choose to stick to him you, at least, +ought not to cross me."</p> + +<p>"But he won't stick to you. Of course he's my cousin, and I don't +see why he's to be supposed never to say a word to anyone else, when +it's quite understood that you're not going to have one another. What's +the good of being a dog in the manger?"</p> + +<p>"Adelaide, you never had any heart!"</p> + +<p>"Of course not;—or, if I had, I knew how to get the better of so +troublesome an appendage. I hate hearing about hearts. If he'd +take you to-morrow you wouldn't marry him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I would."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it. I don't think you'd be so wicked. Where +would you live, and how? How long would it be before you hated +each other? Hearts! As if hearts weren't just like anything else +which either you can or you cannot afford yourself. Do you think I +couldn't go and fall in love to-morrow, and think it the best fun in +the world? Of course it's nice to have a fellow like Jack always ready +to spoon, and sending one things, and riding with one, and all that. +I don't know any young woman in London would like it better than I +should. But I can't afford it, my dear, and so I don't do it."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me you are going to do it with your old lover?"</p> + +<p>"Dear Lord George! I swear it's only to bring Mary down a peg, +because she is so proud of her nobleman. And then he is handsome! +But, my dear, I've pleased myself. I have got a house over my head, +and a carriage to sit in, and servants to wait on me, and I've settled +myself. Do you do likewise, and you shall have your Lord George, +or Jack De Baron, if he pleases;—only don't go too far with him."</p> + +<p>"Adelaide," said the other, "I'm not good, but you're downright +bad." Mrs. Houghton only laughed, as she got up from her seat to +welcome the gentlemen as they entered the room.</p> + +<p>Mary, as soon as the door of the brougham had been closed upon +her, and her husband, began to tell her story. "What do you think +Miss Houghton has told me?" Lord George, of course, could have no +thoughts about it, and did not at first very much care what the story +might have been. "She says that your brother was married ever so +long ago!"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it," said Lord George, suddenly and angrily.<!-- Page 85 --></p> + +<p>"A year before we were married, I mean."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it."</p> + +<p>"And she says that they have a son."</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"That there is a baby,—a boy. She has heard it all from some +friend of hers at Rome."</p> + +<p>"It can't be true."</p> + +<p>"She said that I had better tell you. Does it make you unhappy, +George?" To this he made no immediate answer. "What can it +matter whether he was married two months ago or two years? It +does not make me unhappy;" as she said this, she locked herself +close into his arm.</p> + +<p>"Why should he deceive us? That would make me unhappy. If +he had married in a proper way and had a family, here in England, +of course I should have been glad. I should have been loyal to him as +I am to the others. But if this be true, of course, it will make me +unhappy. I do not believe it. It is some gossip."</p> + +<p>"I could not but tell you."</p> + +<p>"It is some jealousy. There was a time when they said that +Brotherton meant to marry her."</p> + +<p>"What difference could it make to her? Of course we all know +that he is married. I hope it won't make you unhappy, George." +But Lord George was unhappy, or at any rate, was moody, and +would talk no more then on that subject, or any other. But in truth +the matter rested on his mind all the night.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">"ARE WE TO CALL HIM POPENJOY?"</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> news which he had heard did afflict Lord George very much. +A day or two after the dinner-party in Berkeley Square he found Mr. +Knox, his brother's agent, and learned from him that Miss Houghton's +story was substantially true. The Marquis had informed his man of +business that an heir had been born to him, but had not communicated +the fact to any one of the family! This omission, in such a family, +was, to Lord George's thinking, so great a crime on the part of his +brother, as to make him doubt whether he could ever again have +fraternal relations with a man who so little knew his duty. When +Mr. Knox showed him the letter his brow became very black. He +did not often forget himself,—was not often so carried away by any +feeling as to be in danger of doing so. But on this occasion even he<!-- Page 86 --> +was so moved as to be unable to control his words. "An Italian brat? +Who is to say how it was born?"</p> + +<p>"The Marquis, my Lord, would not do anything like that," said +Mr. Knox, very seriously.</p> + +<p>Then Lord George was ashamed of himself, and blushed up to the +roots of his hair. He had hardly himself known what he had meant. +But he mistrusted an Italian widow, because she was an Italian, and +because she was a widow, and he mistrusted the whole connexion, +because there had been in it none of that honourable openness which +should, he thought, characterise all family doings in such a family as +that of the Germains. "I don't know of what kind you mean," he +said, shuffling, and knowing that he shuffled. "I don't suppose my +brother would do anything really wrong. But it's a blot to the +family—a terrible blot."</p> + +<p>"She is a lady of good family,—a Marchese," said Mr. Knox.</p> + +<p>"An Italian Marchese!" said Lord George, with that infinite contempt +which an English nobleman has for foreign nobility not of the +highest order.</p> + +<p>He had learnt that Miss Houghton's story was true, and was certainly +very unhappy. It was not at all that he had pictured to +himself the glory of being himself the Marquis of Brotherton after his +brother's death; nor was it only the disappointment which he felt as +to any possible son of his own, though on that side he did feel the +blow. The reflection which perplexed him most was the consciousness +that he must quarrel with his brother, and that after such a quarrel +he would become nobody in the world. And then, added to this, was +the sense of family disgrace. He would have been quite content with +his position had he been left master of the house at Manor Cross, even +without any of his brother's income wherewith to maintain the house. +But now he would only be his wife's husband, the Dean's son-in-law, +living on their money, and compelled by circumstances to adapt +himself to them. He almost thought that had he known that he +would be turned out of Manor Cross, he would not have married. +And then, in spite of his disclaimer to Mr. Knox, he was already +suspicious of some foul practise. An heir to the title and property, to +all the family honours of the Germains, had suddenly burst upon +him, twelve months,—for aught that he knew, two or three years,—after +the child's birth! Nobody had been informed when the child +was born, or in what circumstances,—except that the mother was an +Italian widow! What evidence on which an Englishman might rely +could possibly be forthcoming from such a country as Italy! Poor +Lord George, who was himself as honest as the sun, was prepared to +believe all evil things of people of whom he knew nothing! Should +his brother die,—and his brother's health was bad,—what steps should +he take? Would it be for him to accept this Italian brat as the heir +to everything, or must he ruin himself by a pernicious lawsuit?<!-- Page 87 --> +Looking forward he saw nothing but family misery and disgrace, and +he saw, also, inevitable difficulties with which he knew himself to be +incapable to cope. "It is true," he said to his wife very gloomily, +when he first met her after his interview with Mr. Knox.</p> + +<p>"What Miss Houghton said? I felt sure it was true, directly she +told me."</p> + +<p>"I don't know why you should have felt sure, merely on her word, +as to a thing so monstrous as this is. You don't seem to see that it +concerns yourself."</p> + +<p>"No; I don't. It doesn't concern me at all, except as it makes you +unhappy." Then there was a pause for a moment, during which she +crept close up to him, in a manner that had now become usual with her. +"Why do you think I married you?" she said. He was too unhappy +to answer her pleasantly,—too much touched by her sweetness to +answer her unpleasantly; and so he said nothing. "Certainly not +with any hope that I might become Marchioness of Brotherton. +Whatever may have made me do such a thing, I can assure you that +that had nothing to do with it."</p> + +<p>"Can't you look forward? Don't you suppose that you may have +a son?" Then she buried her face upon his shoulder. "And if so, +would it not be better that a child so born should be the heir, than +some Italian baby, of whom no one knows anything?"</p> + +<p>"If you are unhappy, George, I shall be unhappy. But for myself +I will not affect to care anything. I don't want to be a Marchioness. +I only want to see you without a frown on your brow. To tell the +truth, if you didn't mind it, I should care nothing about your brother +and his doings. I would make a joke of this Marchese, who, Miss +Houghton says, is a puckered-faced old woman. Miss Houghton seems +to care a great deal more about it than I do."</p> + +<p>"It cannot be a subject for a joke." He was almost angry at the +idea of the wife of the head of the family being made a matter of +laughter. That she should be reprobated, hated,—cursed, if necessary,—was +within the limits of family dignity; but not that she should become +a joke to those with whom she had unfortunately connected herself. +When he had finished speaking to her she could not but feel that he +was displeased, and could not but feel also the injustice of such displeasure. +Of course she had her own little share in the general +disappointments. But she had striven before him to make nothing of +it, in order that he might be quite sure that she had married him—not +with any idea of rank or wealth, but for himself alone. She had +made light of the family misfortune, in order that he might be +relieved. And yet he was angry with her! This was unreasonable. +How much had she done for him! Was she not striving every hour +of her life to love him, and, at any rate, to comfort him with the +conviction that he was loved? Was she not constant in her assurance +to herself that her whole life should be devoted to him? And yet he<!-- Page 88 --> +was surly to her simply because his brother had disgraced himself! +When she was left alone she sat down and cried, and then consoled +herself by remembering that her father was coming to her.</p> + +<p>It had been arranged that the last days of February should be spent +by Lord George with his mother and sisters at Cross Hall, and that the +Dean should run up to town for a week. Lord George went down to +Brotherton by a morning train, and the Dean came up on the same +afternoon. But the going and coming were so fixed that the two men +met at the deanery. Lord George had determined that he would +speak fully to the Dean respecting his brother. He was always +conscious of the Dean's low birth, remembering, with some slight +discomfort, the stable-keeper and the tallow-chandler; and he was a +little inclined to resent what he thought to be a disposition on the +part of the Dean to domineer. But still the Dean was a practical, +sagacious man, in whom he could trust; and the assistance of such a +friend was necessary to him. Circumstances had bound him to the +Dean, and he was a man not prone to bind himself to many men. He +wanted and yet feared the confidence of friendship. He lunched +with the Dean, and then told his story. "You know," he said, "that +my brother is married?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, we all heard that."</p> + +<p>"He was married more than twelve months before he informed us +that he was going to be married."</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"It was so."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean, then, that he told you a falsehood?"</p> + +<p>"His letter to me was very strange, though I did not think much of +it at the time. He said, 'I am to be married'—naming no day."</p> + +<p>"That certainly was—a falsehood, as, at that time, he was +married."</p> + +<p>"I do not know that harsh words will do any good."</p> + +<p>"Nor I. But it is best, George, that you and I should be quite +plain in our words to each other. Placed as he was, and as you were, +he was bound to tell you of his marriage as soon as he knew it himself. +You had waited till he was between forty and fifty, and, of course, he +must feel that what you would do would depend materially upon what +he did."</p> + +<p>"It didn't at all."</p> + +<p>"And then, having omitted to do his duty, he screens his fault by +a——positive misstatement, when his intended return home makes +further concealment impossible."</p> + +<p>"All that, however, is of little moment," said Lord George, who +could not but see that the Dean was already complaining that he had +been left without information which he ought to have possessed when +he was giving his daughter to a probable heir to the title. "There is +more than that."<!-- Page 89 --></p> + +<p>"What more?"</p> + +<p>"He had a son born more than twelve months since."</p> + +<p>"Who says so?" exclaimed the Dean, jumping up from his chair.</p> + +<p>"I heard it first,—or rather Mary did,—in common conversation, +from an old friend. I then learned the truth from Knox. Though he +had told none of us, he had told Knox."</p> + +<p>"And Knox has known it all through?"</p> + +<p>"No, only lately. But he knows it now. Knox supposes that they +are coming home so that the people about may be reconciled to the +idea of his having an heir. There will be less trouble, he thinks, if +the boy comes now, than if he were never heard of till he was ten or +fifteen years old,—or perhaps till after my brother's death."</p> + +<p>"There may be trouble enough still," said the Dean, almost with +a gasp.</p> + +<p>The Dean, it was clear, did not believe in the boy. Lord George +remembered that he himself had expressed disbelief, and that +Mr. Knox had almost rebuked him. "I have now told you all the +facts," said Lord George, "and have told them as soon as I knew +them."</p> + +<p>"You are as true as the sun," said the Dean, putting his hand on +his son-in-law's shoulder. "You will be honest. But you must not +trust in the honesty of others. Poor Mary!"</p> + +<p>"She does not feel it in the least;—will not even interest herself +about it."</p> + +<p>"She will feel it some day. She is no more than a child now. I +feel it, George;—I feel it; and you ought to feel it."</p> + +<p>"I feel his ill-treatment of myself."</p> + +<p>"What—in not telling you? That is probably no more than a +small part of a wide scheme. We must find out the truth of all +this."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what there is to find out," said Lord George, +hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"Nor do I; but I do feel that there must be something. Think of +your brother's position and standing,—of his past life and his present +character! This is no time now for being mealy-mouthed. When +such a man as he appears suddenly with a foreign woman and a foreign +child, and announces one as his wife and the other as his heir, having +never reported the existence of one or of the other, it is time that +some enquiry should be made. I, at any rate, shall make enquiry. +I shall think myself bound to do so on behalf of Mary." Then +they parted as confidential friends do part, but each with some feeling +antagonistic to the other. The Dean, though he had from his heart +acknowledged that Lord George was as honest as the sun, still felt +himself to be aggrieved by the Germain family, and doubted whether +his son-in-law would be urgent enough and constant in hostility to +his own brother. He feared that Lord George would be weak, feeling;<!-- Page 90 --> +as regarded himself, that he would fight till he had spent his last +penny, as long as there was a chance that, by fighting, a grandson of +his own might be made Marquis of Brotherton. He, at any rate, +understood his own heart in the matter, and knew what it was +that he wanted. But Lord George, though he had found himself +compelled to tell everything to the Dean, still dreaded the Dean. It +was not in accordance with his principles that he should be leagued +against his brother with such a man as Dean Lovelace, and he could +see that the Dean was thinking of his own possible grandchildren, +whereas he himself was thinking only of the family of Germain.</p> + +<p>He found his mother and sister at the small house,—the house at +which Farmer Price was living only a month or two since. No doubt it +was the recognised dower house, but nevertheless there was still about it +a flavour of Farmer Price. A considerable sum of money had been spent +upon it, which had come from a sacrifice of a small part of the capital +belonging to the three sisters, with an understanding that it should +be repaid out of the old lady's income. But no one, except the old +lady herself, anticipated such repayment. All this had created trouble +and grief, and the family, which was never gay, was now more sombre +than ever. When the further news was told to Lady Sarah it almost +crushed her. "A child!" she said in a horror-stricken whisper, turning +quite pale, and looking as though the crack of doom were coming +at once. "Do you believe it?" Then her brother explained the +grounds he had for believing it. "And that it was born in wedlock +twelve months before the fact was announced to us."</p> + +<p>"It has never been announced to us," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"What are we to do? is my mother to be told? She ought to know +at once; and yet how can we tell her? What shall you do about the +Dean?"</p> + +<p>"He knows."</p> + +<p>"You told him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I thought it best."</p> + +<p>"Well,—perhaps. And yet it is terrible that any man so distant +from us should have our secrets in his keeping."</p> + +<p>"As Mary's father, I thought it right that he should know."</p> + +<p>"I have always liked the Dean personally," said Lady Sarah. +"There is a manliness about him which has recommended him, and +having a full hand he knows how to open it. But he isn't——; he +isn't quite——"</p> + +<p>"No; he isn't quite——," said Lord George, also hesitating to +pronounce the word which was understood by both of them.</p> + +<p>"You must tell my mother, or I must. It will be wrong to withhold +it. If you like, I will tell Susanna and Amelia."</p> + +<p>"I think you had better tell my mother," said Lord George; "she +will take it more easily from you. And then, if she breaks down, you +can control her better." That Lady Sarah should have the doing of any<!-- Page 91 --> +difficult piece of work was almost a matter of course. She did tell +the tale to her mother, and her mother did break down. The Marchioness, +when she found that an Italian baby had been born twelve +months before the time which she had been made to believe was the +date of the marriage, took at once to her bed. What a mass of +horrors was coming on them! Was she to go and see a woman who +had had a baby under such circumstances? Or was her own eldest son, +the very, very Marquis of Brotherton, to be there with his wife, and +was she not to go and see them? Through it all her indignation +against her son had not been hot as had been theirs against their +brother. He was her eldest son,—the very Marquis,—and ought to be +allowed to do almost anything he pleased. Had it not been impossible +for her to rebel against Lady Sarah she would have obeyed her son in +that matter of the house. And, even now, it was not against her son +that her heart was bitter, but against the woman, who, being an +Italian, and having been married, if married, without the knowledge +of the family, presumed to say that her child was legitimate. Had +her eldest son brought over with him to the halls of his ancestors an +Italian mistress that would, of course, have been very bad, but it +would not have been so bad as this. Nothing could be so bad as this. +"Are we to call him Popenjoy?" she asked with a gurgling voice from +amidst the bed clothes. Now the eldest son of the Marquis of Brotherton +would, as a matter of course, be Lord Popenjoy, if legitimate. +"Certainly we must," said Lady Sarah, authoritatively, "unless the +marriage should be disproved."</p> + +<p>"Poor dear little thing," said the Marchioness, beginning to feel +some pity for the odious stranger as soon as she was told that he +really was to be called Popenjoy. Then the Ladies Susanna and +Amelia were informed, and the feeling became general throughout the +household that the world must be near its end. What were they all +to do when he should come? That was the great question. He had +begun by declaring that he did not want to see any of them. He had +endeavoured to drive them away from the neighbourhood, and had +declared that neither his mother nor his sisters would "get on" with +his wife. All the ladies at Cross Hall had a very strong opinion that +this would turn out to be true, but still they could not bear to think +that they should be living as it were next door to the head of the +family, and never see him. A feeling began to creep over all of +them, except Lady Sarah, that it would have been better for them +to have obeyed the head of the family and gone elsewhere. But +it was too late now. The decision had been made, and they must +remain.</p> + +<p>Lady Sarah, however, never gave way for a minute. "George," +she said very solemnly, "I have thought a great deal about this, and +I do not mean to let him trample upon us."</p> + +<p>"It is all very sad," said Lord George.<!-- Page 92 --></p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. If I know myself, I think I should be the last person +to attribute evil motives to my elder brother, or to stand in his way +in aught that he might wish to do in regard to the family. I know all +that is due to him. But there is a point beyond which even that +feeling cannot carry me. He has disgraced himself." Lord George +shook his head. "And he is doing all he can to bring disgrace upon +us. It has always been my wish that he should marry."</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course."</p> + +<p>"It is always desirable that the eldest son should marry. The heir to +the property then knows that he is the heir, and is brought up to understand +his duties. Though he had married a foreigner, much as I +should regret it, I should be prepared to receive her as a sister; it is +for him to please himself; but in marrying a foreigner he is more +specially bound to let it be known to all the world, and to have everything +substantiated, than if he had married an English girl in her own +parish church. As it is, we must call on her, because he says that she +is his wife. But I shall tell him that he is acting very wrongly by us +all, especially by you, and most especially by his own child, if he does +not take care that such evidence of his marriage is forthcoming as shall +satisfy all the world."</p> + +<p>"He won't listen to you."</p> + +<p>"I think I can make him, as far as that goes; at any rate I do not +mean to be afraid of him. Nor must you."</p> + +<p>"I hardly know whether I will even see him."</p> + +<p>"Yes; you must see him. If we are to be expelled from the family +house, let it be his doing, and not ours. We have to take care, George, +that we do not make a single false step. We must be courteous to +him, but above all we must not be afraid of him."</p> + +<p>In the meantime the Dean went up to London, meaning to spend a +week with his daughter in her new house. They had both intended +that this should be a period of great joy to them. Plans had been +made as to the theatres and one or two parties, which were almost as +exciting to the Dean as to his daughter. It was quite understood by +both of them that the Dean up in London was to be a man of pleasure, +rather than a clergyman. He had no purpose of preaching either at +St. Paul's or the Abbey. He was going to attend no Curates' Aid +Society or Sons of the Clergy. He intended to forget Mr. Groschut, +to ignore Dr. Pountney, and have a good time. That had been his +intention, at least till he saw Lord George at the deanery. But now +there were serious thoughts in his mind. When he arrived Mary had +for the time got nearly rid of the incubus of the Italian Marchioness +with her baby. She was all smiles as she kissed him. But he could +not keep himself from the great subject.</p> + +<p>"This is terrible news, my darling," he said at once.</p> + +<p>"Do you think so, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do."<!-- Page 93 --></p> + +<p>"I don't see why Lord Brotherton should not have a son and heir +as well as anybody else."</p> + +<p>"He is quite entitled to have a son and heir,—one may almost say +more entitled than anyone else, seeing that he has got so much to +leave to him,—but on that very account he is more bound than anyone +else to let all the world feel sure that his declared son and heir is absolutely +his son and heir."</p> + +<p>"He couldn't be so vile as that, papa!"</p> + +<p>"God forbid that I should say that he could. It may be that he +considers himself married, though the marriage would not be valid +here. Maybe he is married, and that yet the child is not legitimate." +Mary could not but blush as her father spoke to her thus plainly. +"All we do know is that he wrote to his own brother declaring that +he was about to be married twelve months after the birth of the child +whom he now expects us to recognise as the heir to the title. I for +one am not prepared to accept his word without evidence, and I shall +have no scruple in letting him know that such evidence will be +wanted."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">"DROP IT."</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">For</span> ten or twelve days after the little dinner in Berkeley Square Guss +Mildmay bore her misfortunes without further spoken complaint. +During all that time, though they were both in London, she never saw +Jack De Baron, and she knew that in not seeing her he was neglecting +her. But for so long she bore it. It is generally supposed that young +ladies have to bear such sorrow without loud complaint; but Guss +was more thoroughly emancipated than are some young ladies, and +when moved was wont to speak her mind. At last, when she herself +was only on foot with her father, she saw Jack De Baron riding with +Lady George. It is quite true that she also saw, riding behind them, +her perfidious friend, Mrs. Houghton, and a gentleman whom at that +time she did not know to be Lady George's father. This was early in +March, when equestrians in the park are not numerous. Guss stood for +a moment looking at them, and Jack De Baron took off his hat. But +Jack did not stop, and went on talking with that pleasant vivacity +which she, poor girl, knew so well and valued so highly. Lady George +liked it too, though she could hardly have given any reason for liking +it, for, to tell the truth, there was not often much pith in Jack's conversation.</p> + +<p>On the following morning Captain De Baron, who had lodgings in +Charles Street close to the Guards' Club, had a letter brought to him<!-- Page 94 --> +before he was out of bed. The letter was from Guss Mildmay, and he +knew the handwriting well. He had received many notes from her, +though none so interesting on the whole as was this letter. Miss +Mildmay's letter to Jack was as follows. It was written, certainly, +with a swift pen, and, but that he knew her writing well, would in +parts have been hardly legible.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"I think you are treating me very badly. I tell you openly and +fairly. It is neither gentlemanlike or high spirited, as you know that +I have no one to take my part but myself. If you mean to cut me, +say so, and let me understand it at once. You have taken up now +with that young married woman just because you know it will make +me angry. I don't believe for a moment that you really care for such +a baby-faced chit as that. I have met her too, and I know that she +hasn't a word to say for herself. Do you mean to come and see me? +I expect to hear from you, letting me know when you will come. I do +not intend to be thrown over for her or anyone. I believe it is mostly +Adelaide's doing, who doesn't like to think that you should really care +for anyone. You know very well what my feelings are, and what +sacrifice I am ready to make. And you know what you have told me +of yourself. I shall be at home all this afternoon. Papa, of course, will +go to his club at three. Aunt Julia has an afternoon meeting at the +Institute for the distribution of prizes among the Rights-of-Women +young men, and I have told her positively that I won't go. Nobody +else will be admitted. Do come and at any rate let us have it out. +This state of things will kill me,—though, of course, you don't mind that.</p> + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature3">"G.</span> +</div> + +<p>"I shall think you a coward if you don't come. Oh, Jack, do +come."</p></div> + +<p>She had begun like a lion, but had ended like a lamb; and such +was the nature of every thought she had respecting him. She was +full of indignation. She assured herself hourly that such treachery +as his deserved death. She longed for a return of the old times,—thirty +years since,—and for some old-fashioned brother, so that Jack +might be shot at and have a pistol bullet in his heart. And yet she +told herself as often that she could not live without him. Where +should she find another Jack after her recklessness in letting all the +world know that this man was her Jack? She hardly wanted to marry +him, knowing full well the nature of the life which would then be +before her. Jack had told her often that if forced to do that he must +give up the army and go and live in ——, he had named Dantzic as +having the least alluring sound of any place he knew. To her it would +be best that things should go on just as they were now till something +should turn up. But that she should be enthralled and Jack free was +not to be borne! She begrudged him no other pleasure. She was<!-- Page 95 --> +willing that he should hunt, gamble, eat, drink, smoke, and be ever +so wicked, if that were his taste; but not that he should be seen +making himself agreeable to another young woman. It might be that +their position was unfortunate, but of that misfortune she had by far +the heavier share. She could not eat, drink, smoke, gamble, hunt, +and be generally wicked. Surely he might bear it if she could.</p> + +<p>Jack, when he had read the letter, tossed it on to the counterpane, +and rolled himself again in bed. It was not as yet much after nine, +and he need not decide for an hour or two whether he would +accept the invitation or not. But the letter bothered him and he could +not sleep. She told him that if he did not come he would be a coward, +and he felt that she had told him the truth. He did not want to see +her,—not because he was tired of her, for in her softer humours she was +always pleasant to him,—but because he had a clear insight into the +misery of the whole connection. When the idea of marrying her suggested +itself, he always regarded it as being tantamount to suicide. +Were he to be persuaded to such a step he would simply be blowing +his own brains out because someone else asked him to do so. He had +explained all this to her at various times when suggesting Dantzic, +and she had agreed with him. Then, at that point, his common sense +had been better than hers, and his feeling really higher. "That being +so," he had said, "it is certainly for your advantage that we should +part." But this to her had been as though he were striving to break +his own chains and was indifferent as to her misery. "I can take care +of myself," she had answered him. But he knew that she could not +take care of herself. Had she not been most unwise, most imprudent, +she would have seen the wisdom of letting the intimacy of their acquaintance +drop without any further explanation. But she was most +unwise. Nevertheless, when she accused him of cowardice, must he +not go?</p> + +<p>He breakfasted uncomfortably, trying to put off the consideration, +and then uncomfortably sauntered down to the Guard House, at St. +James's. He had no intention of writing, and was therefore not compelled +to make up his mind till the hour named for the appointment +should actually have come. He thought for a while that he would +write her a long letter, full of good sense; explaining to her that it +was impossible that they should be useful to each other, and that he +found himself compelled, by his regard for her, to recommend that +their peculiar intimacy should be brought to an end. But he knew +that such a letter would go for nothing with her,—that she would +regard it simply as an excuse on his part. They two had tacitly +agreed not to be bound by common sense,—not to be wise. Such +tacit agreements are common enough between men, between women, +and between men and women. What! a sermon from you! No +indeed; not that. Jack felt all this,—felt that he could not preach +without laying himself open to ridicule. When the time came<!-- Page 96 --> +he made up his mind that he must go. Of course it was very bad for +her. The servants would all know it. Everybody would know it. +She was throwing away every chance she had of doing well for herself. +But what was he to do? She told him that he would be a coward, and +he at any rate could not bear that.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mildmay lived in a small house in Green Street, very near the +Park, but still a modest, unassuming, cheap little house. Jack De +Baron knew the way to it well, and was there not above a quarter-of-an-hour +after the appointed time. "So aunt Ju has gone to the +Rights of Women, has she?" he said, after his first greeting. He +might have kissed her if he would, but he didn't. He had made up +his mind about that. And so had she. She was ready for him, +whether he should kiss her or not,—ready to accept either greeting, +as though it was just that which she had expected.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; she is going to make a speech herself."</p> + +<p>"But why do they give prizes to young men?"</p> + +<p>"Because the young men have stood up for the old women. Why +don't you go and get a prize?"</p> + +<p>"I had to be here instead."</p> + +<p>"Had to be here, sir!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Guss; had to be here! Isn't that about it? When you tell +me to come, and tell me that I am a coward if I don't come, of +course I am here."</p> + +<p>"And now you are here, what have you got to say for yourself?" +This she attempted to say easily and jauntily.</p> + +<p>"Not a word."</p> + +<p>"Then I don't see what is the use of coming?"</p> + +<p>"Nor I, either. What would you have me say?"</p> + +<p>"I would have you,—I would have you——" And then there was +something like a sob. It was quite real. "I would have you tell me—that +you—love me."</p> + +<p>"Have I not told you so a score of times; and what has come of it?"</p> + +<p>"But is it true?"</p> + +<p>"Come, Guss, this is simple folly. You know it is true; and you +know, also, that there is no good whatever to be got from such truth."</p> + +<p>"If you loved me, you would like—to—see me."</p> + +<p>"No, I shouldn't;—no, I don't;—unless it could lead to something. +There was a little fun to be had when we could spoon together,—when +I hardly knew how to ask for it, and you hardly knew how to grant +it; when it was a little shooting bud, and had to be nursed by smiles +and pretty speeches. But there are only three things it can come to +now. Two are impossible, and therefore there is the other."</p> + +<p>"What are the three?"</p> + +<p>"We might get married."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"One of the three I shall not tell you. And we might—make up<!-- Page 97 --> +our minds to forget it all. Do what the people call, part. That is +what I suggest."</p> + +<p>"So that you may spend your time in riding about with Lady +George Germain."</p> + +<p>"That is nonsense, Guss. Lady George Germain I have seen three +times, and she talks only about her husband; a pretty little woman +more absolutely in love I never came across."</p> + +<p>"Pretty little fool!"</p> + +<p>"Very likely. I have nothing to say against that. Only, when +you have no heavier stone to throw against me than Lady George +Germain, really you are badly off for weapons."</p> + +<p>"I have stones enough, if I chose to throw them. Oh, Jack!"</p> + +<p>"What more is there to be said?"</p> + +<p>"Have you had enough of me already, Jack?"</p> + +<p>"I should not have had half enough of you if either you or I had +fifty thousand pounds."</p> + +<p>"If I had them I would give them all to you."</p> + +<p>"And I to you. That goes without telling. But as neither of us +have got the money, what are we to do? I know what we had better +not do. We had better not make each other unhappy by what people +call recriminations."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose that anything I say can affect your happiness."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it does; very much. It makes me think of deep rivers, and +high columns; of express trains and prussic acid. Well as we have +known each other, you have never found out how unfortunately soft +I am."</p> + +<p>"Very soft!"</p> + +<p>"I am. This troubles me so that I ride over awfully big places, +thinking that I might perhaps be lucky enough to break my neck."</p> + +<p>"What must I feel, who have no way of amusing myself at all?"</p> + +<p>"Drop it. I know it is a hard thing for me to say. I know it will +sound heartless. But I am bound to say so. It is for your sake. +I can't hurt myself. It does me no harm that everybody knows that +I am philandering after you; but it is the very deuce for you." She +was silent for a moment. Then he said again emphatically, "Drop it."</p> + +<p>"I can't drop it," she said, through her tears.</p> + +<p>"Then what are we to do?" As he asked this question, he approached +her and put his arm round her waist. This he did in +momentary vacillating mercy,—not because of the charm of the thing +to himself, but through his own inability not to give her some token +of affection.</p> + +<p>"Marry," she said, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"And go and live at Dantzic for the rest of our lives!" He did +not speak these words, but such was the exclamation which he at once +made internally to himself. If he had resolved on anything, he had +resolved that he would not marry her. One might sacrifice one's self,<!-- Page 98 --> +he had said to himself, if one could do her any good; but what's the +use of sacrificing both. He withdrew his arm from her, and stood a +yard apart from her, looking into her face.</p> + +<p>"That would be so horrible to you!" she said.</p> + +<p>"It would be horrible to have nothing to eat."</p> + +<p>"We should have seven hundred and fifty pounds a year," said +Guss, who had made her calculations very narrowly.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; and no doubt we could get enough to eat at such a +place as Dantzic."</p> + +<p>"Dantzic! you always laugh at me when I speak seriously."</p> + +<p>"Or Lubeck, if you like it better; or Leipsig. I shouldn't care the +least in the world where we went. I know a chap who lives in Minorca +because he has not got any money. We might go to Minorca, only +the mosquitoes would eat you up."</p> + +<p>"Will you do it? I will if you will." They were standing now +three yards apart, and Guss was looking terrible things. She did not +endeavour to be soft, but had made up her mind as to the one step +that must be taken. She would not lose him. They need not be +married immediately. Something might turn up before any date was +fixed for their marriage. If she could only bind him by an absolute +promise that he would marry her some day! "I will, if you will," +she said again, after waiting a second or two for his answer. Then he +shook his head. "You will not, after all that you have said to me?" +He shook his head again. "Then, Jack De Baron, you are perjured, +and no gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Dear Guss, I can bear that. It is not true, you know, as I have +never made you any promise which I am not ready to keep; but still +I can bear it."</p> + +<p>"No promise! Have you not sworn that you loved me?"</p> + +<p>"A thousand times."</p> + +<p>"And what does that mean from a gentleman to a lady?"</p> + +<p>"It ought to mean matrimony and all that kind of thing, but it +never did mean it with us. You know how it all began."</p> + +<p>"I know what it has come to, and that you owe it to me as a +gentleman to let me decide whether I am able to encounter such a life +or not. Though it were absolute destruction, you ought to face it if +I bid you."</p> + +<p>"If it were destruction for myself only—perhaps, yes. But though +you have so little regard for my happiness, I still have some for yours. +It is not to be done. You and I have had our little game, as I said +before, and now we had better put the rackets down and go and rest +ourselves."</p> + +<p>"What rest? Oh, Jack,—what rest is there?"</p> + +<p>"Try somebody else."</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me to do that!"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I can. Look at my cousin Adelaide."<!-- Page 99 --></p> + +<p>"Your cousin Adelaide never cared for any human being in her +life except herself. She had no punishment to suffer as I have. Oh, +Jack! I do so love you." Then she rushed at him, and fell upon his +bosom, and wept.</p> + +<p>He knew that this would come, and he felt that, upon the whole, +this was the worst part of the performance. He could bear her anger +or her sullenness with fortitude, but her lachrymose caresses were insupportable. +He held her, however, in his arms, and gazed at himself +in the pier glass most uncomfortably over her shoulder. "Oh, Jack," +she said, "oh, Jack,—what is to come next?" His face became +somewhat more lugubrious than before, but he said not a word. "I +cannot lose you altogether. There is no one else in the wide world +that I care for. Papa thinks of nothing but his whist. Aunt Ju, +with her 'Rights of Women,' is an old fool."</p> + +<p>"Just so," said Jack, still holding her, and still looking very +wretched.</p> + +<p>"What shall I do if you leave me?"</p> + +<p>"Pick up some one that has a little money. I know it sounds +bad and mercenary, and all that, but in our way of life there is +nothing else to be done. We can't marry like the ploughboy and +milkmaid?"</p> + +<p>"I could."</p> + +<p>"And would be the first to find out your mistake afterwards. It's +all very well saying that Adelaide hasn't got a heart. I dare say she +has as much heart as you or me."</p> + +<p>"As you;—as you."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Of course you have a sort of pleasure in abusing me. +But she has known what she could do, and what she could not. Every +year as she grows older she will become more comfortable. Houghton +is very good to her, and she has lots of money to spend. If that's +heartlessness there's a good deal to be said for it." Then he gently +disembarrassed himself of her arms, and placed her on a sofa.</p> + +<p>"And this is to be the end?"</p> + +<p>"Well,—I think so really." She thumped her hand upon the head +of the sofa as a sign of her anger. "Of course we shall always be +friends?"</p> + +<p>"Never," she almost screamed.</p> + +<p>"We'd better. People will talk less about it, you know."</p> + +<p>"I don't care what people talk. If they knew the truth, no one +would ever speak to you again."</p> + +<p>"Good bye, Guss." She shook her head, as he had shaken his +before. "Say a word to a fellow." Again she shook her head. He +attempted to take her hand, but she withdrew it. Then he stood for +perhaps a minute looking at her, but she did not move. "Good bye, +Guss," he said again, and then he left the room.</p> + +<p>When he got into the street he congratulated himself. He had<!-- Page 100 --> +undergone many such scenes before, but none which seemed so likely +to bring the matter to an end. He was rather proud of his own conduct, +thinking that he had been at the same time both tender and +wise. He had not given way in the least, and had yet been explicit +in assuring her of his affection. He felt now that he would go and +hunt on the morrow without any desire to break his neck over the +baron's fences. Surely the thing was done now for ever and ever! +Then he thought how it would have been with him at this moment +had he in any transient weakness told her that he would marry her. +But he had been firm, and could now walk along with a light heart.</p> + +<p>She, as soon as he had left her, got up, and taking the cushion off +the sofa, threw it to the further end of the room. Having so relieved +herself, she walked up to her own chamber.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">ALL IS FISH THAT COMES TO HIS NET.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> Dean's week up in London during the absence of Lord George +was gay enough; but through it all and over it all there was that +cloud of seriousness which had been produced by the last news from +Italy. He rode with his daughter, dined out in great state at Mrs. +Montacute Jones's, talked to Mr. Houghton about Newmarket and +the next Derby, had a little flirtation of his own with Hetta Houghton,—into +which he contrived to introduce a few serious words about the +Marquis,—and was merry enough; but, to his daughter's surprise, he +never for a moment ceased to be impressed with the importance of the +Italian woman and her baby. "What does it signify, papa?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Not signify!"</p> + +<p>"Of course it was to be expected that the Marquis should marry. +Why should he not marry as well as his younger brother?"</p> + +<p>"In the first place, he is very much older."</p> + +<p>"As to that, men marry at any age. Look at Mr. Houghton." The +Dean only smiled. "Do you know, papa, I don't think one ought to +trouble about such things."</p> + +<p>"That's nonsense, my dear. Men, and women too, ought to look +after their own interests. It is the only way in which progress can be +made in the world. Of course you are not to covet what belongs to +others. You will make yourself very unhappy if you do. If Lord +Brotherton's marriage were all fair and above board, nobody would +say a word; but, as it has not been so, it will be our duty to find out +the truth. If you should have a son, do not you think that you would +turn every stone before you would have him defrauded of his rights?"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't think any one would defraud him."<!-- Page 101 --></p> + +<p>"But if this child be—anything else than what he pretends to be, +there will be fraud. The Germains, though they think as I do, are +frightened and superstitious. They are afraid of this imbecile who is +coming over; but they shall find that if they do not move in the +matter, I will. I want nothing that belongs to another; but while I +have a hand and tongue with which to protect myself, or a purse,—which +is better than either,—no one shall take from me what belongs +to me." All this seemed to Mary to be pagan teaching, and it surprised +her much as coming from her father. But she was beginning +to find out that she, as a married woman, was supposed to be now fit +for other teaching than had been administered to her as a child. She +had been cautioned in her father's house against the pomps and vanities +of this wicked world, and could remember the paternal, almost divine +expression of the Dean's face as the lesson was taught. But now it +seemed to her that the pomps and vanities were spoken of in a very +different way. The divine expression was altogether gone, and that +which remained, though in looking at her it was always pleasant, was +hardly paternal.</p> + +<p>Miss Mildmay,—Aunt Ju as she was called,—and Guss Mildmay came +and called, and as it happened the Dean was in the drawing-room +when they came. They were known to be friends of Mrs. Houghton's +who had been in Brothershire, and were therefore in some degree connected +even with the Dean. Guss began at once about the new +Marchioness and the baby; and the Dean, though he did not of course +speak to Guss Mildmay as he had done to his own daughter, still +sneered at the mother and her child. In the meantime Aunt Ju was +enlisting poor Mary. "I should be so proud if you would come with +me to the Institute, Lady George."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I should be delighted. But what Institute?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you know?—in the Marylebone Road,—for relieving females +from their disabilities."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean Rights of Women? I don't think papa likes that," +said Mary, looking round at her father.</p> + +<p>"You haven't got to mind what papa likes and dislikes any more," +said the Dean, laughing. "Whether you go in for the rights or the +wrongs of women is past my caring for now. Lord George must look +after that."</p> + +<p>"I am sure Lord George could not object to your going to the +Marylebone Institute," said Aunt Ju. "Lady Selina Protest is there +every week, and Baroness Banmann, the delegate from Bavaria, is +coming next Friday."</p> + +<p>"You'd find the Disabilities awfully dull, Lady George," said Guss.</p> + +<p>"Everybody is not so flighty as you are, my dear. Some people +do sometimes think of serious things. And the Institute is not called +the Disabilities."</p> + +<p>"What is it all about?" said Mary.<!-- Page 102 --></p> + +<p>"Only to empower women to take their own equal places in the +world,—places equal to those occupied by men," said Aunt Ju +eloquently. "Why should one-half of the world be ruled by the <i>ipse +dixit</i> of the other?"</p> + +<p>"Or fed by their labours?" said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"That is just what we are not. There are 1,133,500 females in +England——"</p> + +<p>"You had better go and hear it all at the Disabilities, Lady George," +said Guss. Lady George said that she would like to go for once, and +so that matter was settled.</p> + +<p>While Aunt Ju was pouring out the violence of her doctrine upon +the Dean, whom she contrived to catch in a corner just before she left +the house, Guss Mildmay had a little conversation on her own part +with Lady George. "Captain De Baron," she said, "is an old friend +of yours, I suppose." She, however, had known very well that Jack +had never seen Lady George till within the last month.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed; I never saw him till the other day."</p> + +<p>"I thought you seemed to be intimate. And then the Houghtons +and the De Barons and the Germains are all Brothershire people."</p> + +<p>"I knew Mrs. Houghton's father, of course, a little; but I never +saw Captain De Baron." This she said rather seriously, remembering +what Mrs. Houghton had said to her of the love affair between this +young lady and the Captain in question.</p> + +<p>"I thought you seemed to know him the other night, and I saw you +riding with him."</p> + +<p>"He was with his cousin Adelaide,—not with us."</p> + +<p>"I don't think he cares much for Adelaide. Do you like +him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do; very much. He seems to be so gay."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is gay. He's a horrid flirt, you know."</p> + +<p>"I didn't know; and what is more, I don't care."</p> + +<p>"So many girls have said that about Captain De Baron; but they +have cared afterwards."</p> + +<p>"But I am not a girl, Miss Mildmay," said Mary, colouring, +offended and resolved at once that she would have no intimacy and as +little acquaintance as possible with Guss Mildmay.</p> + +<p>"You are so much younger than so many of us that are girls," said +Guss, thinking to get out of the little difficulty in that way. "And +then it's all fish that comes to his net." She hardly knew what she was +saying, but was anxious to raise some feeling that should prevent any +increased intimacy between her own lover and Lady George. It was +nothing to her whether or no she offended Lady George Germain. If +she could do her work without sinning against good taste, well; but +if not, then good taste must go to the wall. Good taste certainly had +gone to the wall.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, I can hardly understand you!" Then Lady<!-- Page 103 --> +George turned away to her father. "Well, papa, has Miss Mildmay +persuaded you to come to the Institute with me?"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I should hardly be admitted, after what I have just +said."</p> + +<p>"Indeed you shall be admitted, Mr. Dean," said the old woman. +"We are quite of the Church's way of thinking, that no sinner is too +hardened for repentance."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid the day of grace has not come yet," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"Papa," said Lady George, as soon as her visitors were gone, "do +you know I particularly dislike that younger Miss Mildmay."</p> + +<p>"Is she worth being particularly disliked so rapidly?"</p> + +<p>"She says nasty, impudent things. I can't quite explain what she +said." And again Lady George blushed.</p> + +<p>"People in society now do give themselves strange liberty;—women, +I think, more than men. You shouldn't mind it."</p> + +<p>"Not mind it?"</p> + +<p>"Not mind it so as to worry yourself. If a pert young woman like +that says anything to annoy you, put her down at the time, and then +think no more about it. Of course you need not make a friend of her."</p> + +<p>"That I certainly shall not do."</p> + +<p>On the Sunday after this Lady George dined again with her father +at Mr. Houghton's house, the dinner having been made up especially +for the Dean. On this occasion the Mildmays were not there; but +Captain De Baron was one of the guests. But then he was Mrs. +Houghton's cousin, and had the run of the house on all occasions. +Again, there was no great party; Mrs. Montacute Jones was there, +and Hetta,—Miss Houghton, that is, whom all the world called Hetta,—and +Mrs. Houghton's father, who happened to be up in town. +Again Lady George found herself sitting between her host and Jack +De Baron, and again she thought that Jack was a very agreeable companion. +The idea of being in any way afraid of him did not enter +into her mind. Those horrid words which Guss Mildmay had said to +her,—as to all being fish for his net,—had no effect of that nature. She +assured herself that she knew herself too well to allow anything of +that kind to influence her. That she, Lady George Germain, the +daughter of the Dean of Brotherton, a married woman, should be +afraid of any man, afraid of any too close intimacy! The idea was +horrible and disgusting to her. So that when Jack proposed to join +her and her father in the park on the next afternoon, she said that +she would be delighted; and when he told her absurd stories of his +regimental duties, and described his brother officers who probably +did not exist as described by him, and then went on to hunting +legends in Buckinghamshire, she laughed at everything he said and +was very merry. "Don't you like Jack?" Mrs. Houghton said to +her in the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do; very much. He's just what Jack ought to be."<!-- Page 104 --></p> + +<p>"I don't know about that. I suppose Jack ought to go to church +twice on Sundays, and give half what he has to the poor, just as well +as John."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he does. But Jack is bound to be amusing, while John +need not have a word to say for himself."</p> + +<p>"You know he's my pet friend. We are almost like brother and +sister, and therefore I need not be afraid of him."</p> + +<p>"Afraid of him! Why should anybody be afraid of him?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure you needn't. But Jack has done mischief in his time. +Perhaps he's not the sort of man that would ever touch your fancy." +Again Lady George blushed, but on this occasion she had nothing to +say. She did not want to quarrel with Mrs. Houghton, and the suggestion +that she could possibly love any other man than her husband +had not now been made in so undisguised a manner as before.</p> + +<p>"I thought he was engaged to Miss Mildmay," said Lady George.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear no; nothing of the kind. It is impossible, as neither +of them has anything to speak of. When does Lord George come +back?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Mind that he comes to see me soon. I do so long to hear what +he'll say about his new sister-in-law. I had made up my mind +that I should have to koto to you before long as a real live marchioness."</p> + +<p>"You'll never have to do that."</p> + +<p>"Not if this child is a real Lord Popenjoy. But I have my hopes +still, my dear."</p> + +<p>Soon after that Hetta Houghton reverted to the all important subject.</p> + +<p>"You have found out that what I told you was true, Lady George."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes,—all true."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what the Dowager thinks about it."</p> + +<p>"My husband is with his mother. She thinks, I suppose, just what +we all think, that it would have been better if he had told everybody +of his marriage sooner."</p> + +<p>"A great deal better."</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether, after all, it will make a great deal of difference. +Lady Brotherton,—the Dowager I mean,—is so thoroughly +English in all her ways that she never could have got on very well +with an Italian daughter-in-law."</p> + +<p>"The question is whether when a man springs a wife and family on +his relations in that way, everything can be taken for granted. Suppose +a man had been ever so many years in Kamptschatka, and had +then come back with a Kamptschatkean female, calling her his wife, +would everybody take it as all gospel?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so."</p> + +<p>"Do you? I think not. In the first place it might be difficult for +an Englishman to get himself married in that country according to<!-- Page 105 --> +English laws, and in the next, when there, he would hardly wish to +do so."</p> + +<p>"Italy is not Kamptschatka, Miss Houghton."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not; and it isn't England. People are talking about it +a great deal, and seem to think that the Italian lady oughtn't to have +a walk over."</p> + +<p>Miss Houghton had heard a good deal about races from her brother, +and the phrase she had used was quite an everyday word to her. +Lady George did not understand it, but felt that Miss Houghton was +talking very freely about a very delicate matter. And she remembered +at the same time what had been the aspirations of the lady's +earlier life, and put down a good deal of what was said to personal +jealousy. "Papa," she said, as she went home, "it seems to me that +people here talk a great deal about one's private concerns."</p> + +<p>"You mean about Lord Brotherton's marriage."</p> + +<p>"That among other things."</p> + +<p>"Of course they will talk about that. It is hardly to be considered +private. And I don't know but what the more it is talked about the +better for us. It is felt to be a public scandal, and that feeling may +help us."</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa, I wish you wouldn't think that we wanted any help."</p> + +<p>"We want the truth, my dear, and we must have it."</p> + +<p>On the next day they met Jack De Baron in the park. They had +not been long together before the Dean saw an old friend on the footpath +and stopped to speak to him. Mary would have stayed too, had +not her horse displayed an inclination to go on, and that she had felt +herself unwilling to make an effort in the matter. As she rode on +with Captain De Baron she remembered all that had been said by +Guss Mildmay and Mrs. Houghton, and remembered also her own +decision that nothing of that kind could matter to her. It was +an understood thing that ladies and gentlemen when riding should +fall into this kind of intercourse. Her father was with her, and it +would be absurd that she should be afraid to be a minute or two out +of his sight. "I ought to have been hunting," said Jack; "but +there was frost last night, and I do hate going down and being told +that the ground is as hard as brickbats at the kennels, while men are +ploughing all over the country. And now it's a delicious spring day."</p> + +<p>"You didn't like getting up, Captain De Baron," she said.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps there's something in that. Don't you think getting up is +a mistake? My idea of a perfect world is one where nobody would +ever have to get up."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't at all like always to lie in bed."</p> + +<p>"But there might be some sort of arrangement to do away with the +nuisance. See what a good time the dogs have."</p> + +<p>"Now, Captain De Baron, would you like to be a dog?" This she +said turning round and looking him full in the face.<!-- Page 106 --></p> + +<p>"Your dog I would." At that moment, just over his horse's +withers, she saw the face of Guss Mildmay who was leaning on her +father's arm. Guss bowed to her, and she was obliged to return the +salute. Jack De Baron turned his face to the path and seeing the +lady raised his hat. "Are you two friends?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Not particularly."</p> + +<p>"I wish you were. But, of course, I have no right to wish in such +a matter as that." Lady George felt that she wished that Guss Mildmay +had not seen her riding in the park on that day with Jack De +Baron.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">THE DISABILITIES.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">It</span> had been arranged that on Friday evening Lady George should +call for Aunt Ju in Green Street, and that they should go together +to the Institute in the Marylebone Road. The real and full name of the +college, as some ladies delighted to call it, was, though somewhat +lengthy, placarded in big letters on a long black board on the front of +the building, and was as follows, "Rights of Women Institute; Established +for the Relief of the Disabilities of Females." By friendly +tongues to friendly ears "The College" or "the Institute" was the +pleasant name used; but the irreverent public was apt to speak of the +building generally as the "Female Disabilities." And the title was +made even shorter. Omnibuses were desired to stop at the "Disabilities;" +and it had become notorious that it was just a mile from King's +Cross to the "Disabilities." There had been serious thoughts among +those who were dominant in the Institute of taking down the big +board and dropping the word. But then a change of a name implies +such a confession of failure! It had on the whole been thought better +to maintain the courage of the opinion which had first made the mistake. +"So you're going to the Disabilities, are you?" Mrs. Houghton +had said to Lady George.</p> + +<p>"I'm to be taken by old Miss Mildmay."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; Aunt Ju is a sort of first-class priestess among them. Don't +let them bind you over to belong to them. Don't go in for it." Lady +George had declared it to be very improbable that she should go in for +it, but had adhered to her determination of visiting the Institute.</p> + +<p>She called in Green Street fearing that she should see Guss Mildmay +whom she had determined to keep at arm's distance as well as her +friendship with Mrs. Houghton would permit; but Aunt Ju was +ready for her in the passage. "I forgot to tell you that we ought to +be a little early, as I have to take the chair. I daresay we shall do +very well," she added, "if the man drives fast. But the thing is so<!-- Page 107 --> +important! One doesn't like to be flurried when one gets up to make +the preliminary address." The only public meetings at which Mary +had ever been present had appertained to certain lectures at Brotherton, +at which her father or some other clerical dignity had presided, +and she could not as yet understand that such a duty should be performed +by a woman. She muttered something expressing a hope that +all would go right. "I've got to introduce the Baroness, you know."</p> + +<p>"Introduce the Baroness?"</p> + +<p>"The Baroness Banmann. Haven't you seen the bill of the evening? +The Baroness is going to address the meeting on the propriety +of patronising female artists,—especially in regard to architecture. A +combined college of female architects is to be established in Posen and +Chicago, and why should we not have a branch in London, which is the +centre of the world?"</p> + +<p>"Would a woman have to build a house?" asked Lady George.</p> + +<p><a name="tn_pg_116"></a><!-- TN: quotation mark added here-->"She would draw the plans, and devise the proportions, and—and—do +the æsthetic part of it. An architect doesn't carry bricks on his +back, my dear."</p> + +<p>"But he walks over planks, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"And so could I walk over a plank; why not as well as a man? +But you will hear what the Baroness says. The worst is that I am a +little afraid of her English."</p> + +<p>"She's a foreigner, of course. How will she manage?"</p> + +<p>"Her English is perfect, but I am afraid of her pronunciation. +However, we shall see." They had now arrived at the building, and +Lady George followed the old lady in with the crowd. But when once +inside the door they turned to a small passage on the left, which conducted +those in authority to the august room preparatory to the platform. +It is here that bashful speakers try to remember their first +sentences, and that lecturers, proud of their prominence, receive the +homage of the officers of the Institute. Aunt Ju, who on this occasion +was second in glory, made her way in among the crowd and welcomed +the Baroness, who had just arrived. The Baroness, was a very stout +woman, about fifty, with a double chin, a considerable moustache, a +low broad forehead, and bright, round, black eyes, very far apart. +When introduced to Lady George, she declared that she had great +honour in accepting the re-cog-nition. She had a stout roll of paper +in her hand, and was dressed in a black stuff gown, with a cloth jacket +buttoned up to neck, which hardly gave to her copious bust that +appearance of manly firmness which the occasion almost required. +But the virile collars budding out over it perhaps supplied what was +wanting. Lady George looked at her to see if she was trembling. +How, thought Lady George, would it have been with herself if she +had been called upon to address a French audience in French! But +as far as she could judge from experience, the Baroness was quite at +her ease. Then she was introduced by Aunt Ju to Lady Selina<!-- Page 108 --> +Protest, who was a very little woman with spectacles,—of a most +severe aspect. "I hope, Lady George, that you mean to put your +shoulder to the wheel," said Lady Selina. "I am only here as a +stranger," said Lady George. Lady Selina did not believe in strangers +and passed on very severely. There was no time for further ceremonies, +as a bald-headed old gentleman, who seemed to act as chief +usher, informed Aunt Ju that it was time for her to take the Baroness +on to the platform. Aunt Ju led the way, puffing a little, for she +had been somewhat hurried on the stairs, and was not as yet quite +used to the thing,—but still with a proudly prominent step. The +Baroness waddled after her, apparently quite indifferent to the occasion. +Then followed Lady Selina,—and Lady George, the bald-headed +gentleman telling her where to place herself. She had never been on +a platform before, and it seemed as though the crowd of people below +was looking specially at her. As she sat down, at the right hand of +the Baroness, who was of course at the right hand of the Chairwoman, +the bald-headed gentleman introduced her to her other neighbour, Miss +Doctor Olivia Q. Fleabody, from Vermont. There was so much of the +name and it all sounded so strange to the ears of Lady George that she +could remember very little of it, but she was conscious that her new +acquaintance was a miss and a doctor. She looked timidly round, +and saw what would have been a pretty face, had it not been marred +by a pinched look of studious severity and a pair of glass spectacles +of which the glasses shone in a disagreeable manner. There are spectacles +which are so much more spectacles than other spectacles that they +make the beholder feel that there is before him a pair of spectacles +carrying a face, rather than a face carrying a pair of spectacles. So it +was with the spectacles of Olivia Q. Fleabody. She was very thin, and +the jacket and collars were quite successful. Sitting in the front row +she displayed her feet,—and it may also be said her trousers, for +the tunic which she wore came down hardly below the knees. Lady +George's enquiring mind instantly began to ask itself what the lady had +done with her petticoats. "This is a great occasion," said Dr. Fleabody, +speaking almost out loud, and with a very strong nasal twang.</p> + +<p>Lady George looked at the chair before she answered, feeling that +she would not dare to speak a word if Aunt Ju were already on her +legs; but Aunt Ju was taking advantage of the commotion which was +still going on among those who were looking for seats to get her breath, +and therefore she could whisper a reply. "I suppose it is," she said.</p> + +<p>"If it were not that I have wedded myself in a peculiar manner to +the prophylactick and therapeutick sciences, I would certainly now +put my foot down firmly in the cause of architecture. I hope to have +an opportunity of saying a few words on the subject myself before this +interesting session shall have closed." Lady George looked at her +again and thought that this enthusiastic hybrid who was addressing +her could not be more than twenty-four years old.<!-- Page 109 --></p> + +<p>But Aunt Ju was soon on her legs. It did not seem to Lady George +that Aunt Ju enjoyed the moment now that it was come. She looked +hot, and puffed once or twice before she spoke. But she had studied +her few words so long, and had made so sure of them, that she could +not go very far wrong. She assured her audience that the Baroness +Banmann, whose name had only to be mentioned to be honoured both +throughout Europe and America, had, at great personal inconvenience, +come all the way from Bavaria to give them the advantage of her vast +experience on the present occasion. Like a good chairwoman, she took +none of the bread out of the Baroness's mouth—as we have occasionally +known it to be done on such occasions—but confined herself to ecstatic +praises of the German lady. All these the Baroness bore without a +quiver, and when Aunt Ju sat down she stepped on to the rostrum of +the evening amidst the plaudits of the room, with a confidence which +to Lady George was miraculous. Then Aunt Ju took her seat, and +was able for the next hour and a half to occupy her arm-chair with +gratifying fainéant dignity.</p> + +<p>The Baroness, to tell the truth, waddled rather than stepped to the +rostrum. She swung herself heavily about as she went sideways; but +it was manifest to all eyes that she was not in the least ashamed of +her waddling. She undid her manuscript on the desk, and flattened +it down all over with her great fat hand, rolling her head about as +she looked around, and then gave a grunt before she began. During +this time the audience was applauding her loudly, and it was evident +that she did not intend to lose a breath of their incense by any hurry +on her own part. At last the voices and the hands and the feet were +silent. Then she gave a last roll to her head and a last pat to the +papers, and began. "De manifest infairiority of de tyrant saix——."</p> + +<p>Those first words, spoken in a very loud voice, came clearly home to +Lady George's ear, though they were uttered with a most un-English +accent. The Baroness paused before she completed her first sentence, +and then there was renewed applause. Lady George could remark +that the bald-headed old gentleman behind and a cadaverous youth who +was near to him were particularly energetic in stamping on the ground. +Indeed, it seemed that the men were specially charmed with this commencement +of the Baroness's oration. It was so good that she +repeated it with, perhaps, even a louder shout. "De manifest infairiority +of de tyrant saix——." Lady George, with considerable +trouble, was able to follow the first sentence or two, which went to +assert that the inferiority of man to woman in all work was quite as +conspicuous as his rapacity and tyranny in taking to himself all the +wages. The Baroness, though addressing a mixed audience, seemed +to have no hesitation in speaking of man generally as a foul worm +who ought to be put down and kept under, and merely allowed to be +the father of children. But after a minute or two Lady George found +that she could not understand two words consecutively, although she<!-- Page 110 --> +was close to the lecturer. The Baroness, as she became heated, threw +out her words quicker and more quickly, till it became almost impossible +to know in what language they were spoken. By degrees our +friend became aware that the subject of architecture had been reached, +and then she caught a word or two as the Baroness declared that the +science was "adaapted only to de æstetic and comprehensive intelligence +of de famale mind." But the audience applauded throughout +as though every word reached them; and when from time to time the +Baroness wiped her brows with a very large handkerchief, they shook +the building with their appreciation of her energy. Then came a loud +rolling sentence, with the old words as an audible termination—"de +manifest infairiority of de tyrant saix!" As she said this she waved +her handkerchief in the air and almost threw herself over the desk. +"She is very great to-night,—very great indeed," whispered Miss +Doctor Olivia Q. Fleabody to Lady George. Lady George was afraid +to ask her neighbour whether she understood one word out of ten +that were being spoken.</p> + +<p>Great as the Baroness was, Lady George became very tired of it +all. The chair was hard and the room was full of dust, and she could +not get up. It was worse than the longest and the worst sermon she +had ever heard. It seemed to her at last that there was no reason why +the Baroness should not go on for ever. The woman liked it, and the +people applauded her. The poor victim had made up her mind that +there was no hope of cessation, and in doing so was very nearly +asleep, when, on a sudden, the Baroness had finished and had thrown +herself violently back into her chair. "Baroness, believe me," said +Dr. Fleabody, stretching across Lady George, "it is the greatest treat +I ever had in my life." The Baroness hardly condescended to answer +the compliment. She was at this moment so great a woman, at this +moment so immeasurably the greatest human being at any rate in +London, that it did not become her to acknowledge single compliments. +She had worked hard and was very hot, but still she had sufficient +presence of mind to remember her demeanour.</p> + +<p>When the tumult was a little subsided, Lady Selina Protest got up +to move a vote of thanks. She was sitting on the left-hand side of +the Chair, and rose so silently that Lady George had at first thought +that the affair was all over, and that they might go away. Alas, alas! +there was more to be borne yet! Lady Selina spoke with a clear but +low voice, and though she was quite audible, and an earl's sister, did +not evoke any enthusiasm. She declared that the thanks of every +woman in England were due to the Baroness for her exertions, and of +every man who wished to be regarded as the friend of women. But +Lady Selina was very quiet, making no gestures, and was indeed somewhat +flat. When she sat down no notice whatever was taken of her. +Then very quickly, before Lady George had time to look about her, +the Doctor was on her feet. It was her task to second the vote of<!-- Page 111 --> +thanks, but she was far too experienced an occupant of platforms +to waste her precious occasion simply on so poor a task. She began +by declaring that never in her life had a duty been assigned to her +more consonant to her taste than that of seconding a vote of thanks +to a woman so eminent, so humanitarian, and at the same time so +essentially a female as the Baroness Banmann. Lady George, who +knew nothing about speaking, felt at once that here was a speaker who +could at any rate make herself audible and intelligible. Then the +Doctor broke away into the general subject, with special allusions to +the special matter of female architecture, and went on for twenty +minutes without dropping a word. There was a moment in which she +had almost made Lady George think that women ought to build +houses. Her dislike to the American twang had vanished, and she +was almost sorry when Miss Doctor Fleabody resumed her seat.</p> + +<p>But it was after that,—after the Baroness had occupied another ten +minutes in thanking the British public for the thanks that had been +given to herself,—that the supreme emotion of the evening came to +Lady George. Again she had thought, when the Baroness a second +time rolled back to her chair, that the time for departure had come. +Many in the hall, indeed, were already going, and she could not quite +understand why no one on the platform had as yet moved. Then +came that bald-headed old gentleman to her, to her very self, and +suggested to her that she,—she, Lady George Germain, who the other +day was Mary Lovelace, the Brotherton girl,—should stand up and +make a speech! "There is to be a vote of thanks to Miss Mildmay +as Chairwoman," said the bald-headed old man, "and we hope, Lady +George, that you will favour us with a few words."</p> + +<p>Her heart utterly gave way and the blood flew into her cheeks, and +she thoroughly repented of having come to this dreadful place. She +knew that she could not do it, though the world were to depend upon +it; but she did not know whether the bald-headed old gentleman +might not have the right of insisting on it. And then all the people +were looking at her as the horrible old man was pressing his request +over her shoulder. "Oh," she said; "no, I can't. Pray don't. +Indeed I can't,—and I won't." The idea had come upon her that it +was necessary that she should be very absolute. The old man retired +meekly, and himself made the speech in honour of Aunt Ju.</p> + +<p>As they were going away Lady George found that she was to have +the honour of conveying the Baroness to her lodgings in Conduit +Street. This was all very well, as there was room for three in the +brougham, and she was not ill-pleased to hear the ecstasies of Aunt +Ju about the lecture. Aunt Ju declared that she had agreed with +every word that had been uttered. Aunt Ju thought that the cause +was flourishing. Aunt Ju was of opinion that women in England +would before long be able to sit in Parliament and practise in the Law +Courts. Aunt Ju was thoroughly in earnest; but the Baroness had<!-- Page 112 --> +expended her energy in the lecture, and was more inclined to talk +about persons. Lady George was surprised to hear her say that this +young man was a very handsome young man, and that old man a very +nice old man. She was almost in love with Mr. Spuffin, the bald-headed +gentleman usher; and when she was particular in asking +whether Mr. Spuffin was married, Lady George could hardly think +that this was the woman who had been so eloquent on the "infairiority +of de tyrant saix."</p> + +<p>But it was not till Aunt Ju had been dropped in Green Street, and +the conversation fell upon Lady George herself, that the difficulty +began. "You no speak?" asked the Baroness.</p> + +<p>"What, in public! Not for the world!"</p> + +<p>"You wrong dere. Noting so easy. Say just as you please, only +say it vera loud. And alvays abuse somebody or someting. You +s'ould try."</p> + +<p>"I would sooner die," said Lady George. "Indeed, I should be +dead before I could utter a word. Isn't it odd how that lady Doctor +could speak like that."</p> + +<p>"De American young woman! Dey have de impudence of—of—of +everything you please; but it come to noting."</p> + +<p>"But she spoke well."</p> + +<p>"Dear me, no; noting at all. Dere was noting but vords, vords, +vords. Tank you; here I am. Mind you come again, and you shall +learn to speak."</p> + +<p>Lady George, as she was driven home, was lost in her inability to +understand it all. She had thought that the Doctor spoke the best +of all, and now she was told that it was nothing. She did not yet +understand that even people so great as female orators, so nobly +humanitarian as the Baroness Banmann, can be jealous of the greatness +of others.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">LORD GEORGE UP IN LONDON.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Lord George</span> returned to town the day after the lecture, and was not +altogether pleased that his wife should have gone to the Disabilities. +She thought, indeed, that he did not seem to be in a humour to be +pleased with anything. His mind was thoroughly disturbed by the +coming of his brother, and perplexed with the idea that something +must be done though he knew not what. And he was pervaded by a +feeling that in the present emergency it behoved him to watch his own +steps, and more especially those of his wife. An anonymous letter +had reached Lady Sarah, signed, "A Friend of the Family," in which<!-- Page 113 --> +it was stated that the Marquis of Brotherton had allied himself to the +highest blood that Italy knew, marrying into a family that had been +noble before English nobility had existed, whereas his brother had +married the granddaughter of a stable-keeper and a tallow chandler. +This letter had, of course, been shown to Lord George; and, though +he and his sisters agreed in looking upon it as an emanation from +their enemy, the new Marchioness, it still gave them to understand +that she, if attacked, would be prepared to attack again. And Lord +George was open to attack on the side indicated. He was, on the +whole, satisfied with his wife. She was ladylike, soft, pretty, well-mannered, +and good to him. But her grandfathers had been stable-keepers +and tallow-chandlers. Therefore it was specially imperative that +she should be kept from injurious influences. Lady Selina Protest and +Aunt Ju, who were both well-born, might take liberties; but not so +his wife. "I don't think that was a very nice place to go to, Mary."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't nice at all, but it was very funny. I never saw such a +vulgar creature as the Baroness, throwing herself about and wiping +her face."</p> + +<p>"Why should you go and see a vulgar creature throw herself about +and wipe her face?"</p> + +<p>"Why should anybody do it? One likes to see what is going on, I +suppose. The woman's vulgarity could not hurt me, George."</p> + +<p>"It could do you no good."</p> + +<p>"Lady Selina Protest was there, and I went with Miss Mildmay."</p> + +<p>"Two old maids who have gone crazy about Woman's Rights +because nobody has married them. The whole thing is distasteful to +me, and I hope you will not go there again."</p> + +<p>"That I certainly shall not, because it is very dull," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"I hope, also, that, independently of that, my request would be +enough."</p> + +<p>"Certainly it would, George; but I don't know why you should be +so cross to me."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that I have been cross; but I am anxious, specially +anxious. There are reasons why I have to be very anxious in regard +to you, and why you have to be yourself more particular than others."</p> + +<p>"What reasons?" She asked this with a look of bewildered astonishment. +He was not prepared to answer the question, and +shuffled out of it, muttering some further words as to the peculiar +difficulty of their position. Then he kissed her and left her, telling her +that all would be well if she would be careful.</p> + +<p>If she would be careful! All would be well if she would be careful! +Why should there be need of more care on her part than on +that of others? She knew that all this had reference in some way to +that troublesome lady and troublesome baby who were about to be +brought home; but she could not conceive how her conduct could be +specially concerned. It was a sorrow to her that her husband should<!-- Page 114 --> +allow himself to be ruffled about the matter at all. It was a sorrow +also that her father should do so. As to herself, she had an idea that +if Providence chose to make her a Marchioness, Providence ought to +be allowed to do it without any interference on her part. But it +would be a double sorrow if she were told that she mustn't do this +and mustn't do that because there was before her a dim prospect +of being seated in a certain high place which was claimed and +occupied by another person. And she was aware, too, that her husband +had in very truth scolded her. The ladies at Manor Cross had +scolded her before, but he had never done so. She had got away from +Manor Cross, and had borne the scolding because the prospect of +escape had been before her. But it would be very bad indeed if her +husband should take to scold her. Then she thought that if Jack De +Baron were married he would never scold his wife.</p> + +<p>The Dean had not yet gone home, and in her discomfort she had +recourse to him. She did not intend to complain of her husband to +her father. Had any such idea occurred to her, she would have stamped +it out at once, knowing that such a course would be both unloyal and +unwise. But her father was so pleasant with her, so easy to be talked +to, so easy to be understood, whereas her husband was almost mysterious,—at +any rate, gloomy and dark. "Papa," she said, "what +does George mean by saying that I ought to be more particular than +other people?"</p> + +<p>"Does he say so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; and he didn't like my going with that old woman to hear +the other women. He says that I ought not to do it though anybody +else might."</p> + +<p>"I think you misunderstood him."</p> + +<p>"No; I didn't, papa."</p> + +<p>"Then you had better imagine that he was tired with his journey, +or that his stomach was a little out of order. Don't fret about such +things, and whatever you do, make the best of your husband."</p> + +<p>"But how am I to know where I may go and where I mayn't? Am +I to ask him everything first?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be a child, whatever you do. You will soon find out what +pleases him and what doesn't, and, if you manage well, what you do +will please him. Whatever his manner may be, he is soft-hearted +and affectionate."</p> + +<p>"I know that, papa."</p> + +<p>"If he says a cross word now and again just let it go by. You +should not suppose that words always mean what they seem to mean. +I knew a man who used to tell his wife ever so often that he wished +she were dead."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens, papa!"</p> + +<p>"Whenever he said so she always put a little magnesia into his beer, +and things went on as comfortably as possible. Never magnify things,<!-- Page 115 --> +even to yourself. I don't suppose Lord George wants magnesia as yet, +but you will understand what I mean." She said that she did; but +she had not, in truth, quite comprehended the lesson as yet, nor could +her father as yet teach it to her in plainer language.</p> + +<p>On that same afternoon Lord George called in Berkeley Square and +saw Mrs. Houghton. At this time the whole circle of people who were +in any way connected with the Germain family, or who, by the circumstances +of their lives were brought within the pale of the Germain +influence, were agog with the marriage of the Marquis. The newspapers +had already announced the probable return of the Marquis and +the coming of a new Marchioness and a new Lord Popenjoy. Occasion +had been taken to give some details of the Germain family, and public +allusion had even been made to the marriage of Lord George. These +are days in which, should your wife's grandfather have ever been insolvent, +some newspaper, in its catering for the public, will think it +proper to recall the fact. The Dean's parentage had been alluded to, +and the late Tallowax will, and the Tallowax property generally. It +had also been declared that the Marchesa Luigi,—now the present Marchioness,—had +been born an Orsini; and also, in another paper, the +other fact (?) that she had been divorced from her late husband. This +had already been denied by Mr. Knox, who had received a telegram +from Florence ordering such denial to be made. It may, therefore, be +conceived that the Germains were at this moment the subject of much +conversation, and it may be understood that Mrs. Houghton, who +considered herself to be on very confidential terms with Lord George, +should, as they were alone, ask a few questions and express a little +sympathy. "How does the dear Marchioness like the new house?" +she asked.</p> + +<p>"It is tolerably comfortable."</p> + +<p>"That Price is a darling, Lord George; I've known him ever so +long. And, of course, it is the dower house."</p> + +<p>"It was the suddenness that disturbed my mother."</p> + +<p>"Of course; and then the whole of it must have gone against the +grain with her. You bear it like an angel."</p> + +<p>"For myself, I don't know that I have anything to bear."</p> + +<p>"The whole thing is so dreadful. There are you and your dear +wife,—everything just as it ought to be,—idolized by your mother, +looked up to by the whole country, the very man whom we wish to see +the head of such a family."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk in that way, Mrs. Houghton."</p> + +<p>"I know it is very distant; but still, I do feel near enough related +to you all to be justified in being proud, and also to be justified in +being ashamed. What will they do about calling upon her?"</p> + +<p>"My brother will, of course, come to my mother first. Then Lady +Sarah and one of her sisters will go over. After that he will bring +his wife to Cross Hall if he pleases."<!-- Page 116 --></p> + +<p>"I am so glad it is all settled; it is so much better. But you know, +Lord George,—I must say it to you as I would to my own brother, +because my regard for you is the same,—I shall never think that that +woman is really his wife." Lord George frowned heavily, but did not +speak. "And I shall never think that that child is really Lord +Popenjoy."</p> + +<p>Neither did Lord George in his heart of hearts believe that the +Italian woman was a true Marchioness or the little child a true Lord +Popenjoy; but he had confessed to himself that he had no adequate +reason for such disbelief, and had perceived that it would become him +to keep his opinion to himself. The Dean had been explicit with him, +and that very explicitness had seemed to impose silence on himself. +To his mother he had not whispered an idea of a suspicion. With his +sisters he had been reticent, though he knew that Lady Sarah, at any +rate, had her suspicions. But now an open expression of the accusation +from so dear a friend as Mrs. Houghton,—from the Adelaide De +Baron whom he had so dearly loved,—gratified him and almost tempted +him into confidence. He had frowned at first, because his own family +was to him so august that he could not but frown when anyone ventured +to speak of it. Even crowned princes are driven to relax themselves +on occasions, and Lord George Germain felt that he would +almost like, just for once, to talk about his brothers and sisters as +though they were Smiths and Joneses. "It is very hard to know what +to think," he said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Houghton at once saw that the field was open to her. She +had ventured a good deal, and, knowing the man, had felt the danger +of doing so; but she <a name="tn_pg_125"></a><!-- TN: removed second "was"-->was satisfied now that she might say almost +anything. "But one is bound to think, isn't one? Don't you feel +that? It is for the whole family that you have to act."</p> + +<p>"What is to be done? I can't go and look up evidence."</p> + +<p>"But a paid agent can. Think of Mary. Think of Mary's child,—if +she should have one." As she said this she looked rather anxiously +into his face, being desirous of receiving an answer to a question which +she did not quite dare to ask.</p> + +<p>"Of course there's all that," he said, not answering the question.</p> + +<p>"I can only just remember him though papa knew him so well. +But I suppose he has lived abroad till he has ceased to think and feel +like an Englishman. Could anyone believe that a Marquis of Brotherton +would have married a wife long enough ago to have a son over +twelve months old, and never to have said a word about it to his +brother or mother? I don't believe it."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to believe," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"And then to write in such a way about the house! Of course I +hear it talked of by people who won't speak before you; but you +ought to know."</p> + +<p>"What do people say?"<!-- Page 117 --></p> + +<p>"Everybody thinks that there is some fraud. There is old Mrs. +Montacute Jones,—I don't know anybody who knows everything better +than she does,—and she was saying that you would be driven by your +duty to investigate the matter. 'I daresay he'd prefer to do nothing,' +she said, 'but he must.' I felt that to be so true! Then Mr. Mildmay, +who is so very quiet, said that there would be a lawsuit. Papa +absolutely laughed at the idea of the boy being Lord Popenjoy, +though he was always on good terms with your brother. Mr. Houghton +says that nobody in society will give the child the name. Of course he's +not very bright, but on matters like that he does know what he's talking +about. When I hear all this I feel it a great deal, Lord George."</p> + +<p>"I know what a friend you are."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I am. I think very often what I might have been, but +could not be; and though I am not jealous of the happiness and +honours of another, I am anxious for your happiness and your +honours." He was sitting near her, on a chair facing the fire, while +she was leaning back on the sofa. He went on staring at the hot +coals, flattered, in some sort elate, but very disturbed. The old feeling +was coming back upon him. She was not as pretty as his wife,—but +she was, he thought, more attractive, had more to say for herself, +was more of a woman. She could pour herself into his heart and +understand his feelings, whereas Mary did not sympathize with him +at all in this great family trouble. But then Mary was, of course, his +wife, and this woman was the wife of another man. He would be the +last man in the world,—so he would have told himself could he have +spoken to himself on the subject,—to bring disgrace on himself and +misery on other people by declaring his love to another man's wife. +He was the last man to do an injury to the girl whom he had made his +own wife! But he liked being with his old love, and felt anxious to +say a word to her that should have in it something just a little beyond +the ordinary tenderness of friendship. The proper word, however, did +not come to him at that moment. In such moments the proper word +very often will not come. "You are not angry with me for saying +so?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"How can I be angry?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think that there can have been such friendship, as there +was between you and me, and that it should fade and die away, +unless there be some quarrel. You have not quarrelled with me?"</p> + +<p>"Quarrelled with you? Never!"</p> + +<p>"And you did love me once?" She at any rate knew how to find +the tender words that were required for her purpose.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I did."</p> + +<p>"It did not last very long; did it, Lord George?"</p> + +<p>"It was you that—that—. It was you that stopped it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was I that stopped it. Perhaps I found it easier to—stop +than I had expected. But it was all for the best. It must have been<!-- Page 118 --> +stopped. What could our life have been? I was telling a friend to +mine the other day, a lady, that there are people who cannot afford to +wear hearts inside them. If I had jumped at your offer,—and there +was a moment when I would have done so——"</p> + +<p>"Was there?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed there was, George." The "George" didn't mean quite as +much as it might have meant between others, because they were cousins. +"But, if I had, the joint home of us all must have been in Mr. Price's +farm-house."</p> + +<p>"It isn't a farm-house."</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean. But I want you to believe that I +thought of you quite as much as of myself,—more than of myself. I +should at any rate have had brilliant hopes before me. I could +understand what it would be to be the Marchioness of Brotherton. +I could have borne much for years to think that at some future day +I might hang on your arm in London salons as your wife. I had +an ambition which now can never be gratified. I, too, can look +on this picture and on that. But I had to decide for you as well as +for myself, and I did decide that it was not for your welfare nor for +your honour, nor for your happiness to marry a woman who could not +help you in the world." She was now leaning forward and almost +touching his arm. "I think sometimes that those most nearly concerned +hardly know what a woman may have to endure because she +is not selfish."</p> + +<p>How could any man stand this? There are words which a man +cannot resist from a woman even though he knows them to be false. +Lord George, though he did not quite believe that all these words +were sincere, did think that there was a touch of sincerity about them—an +opinion which the reader probably will not share with Lord +George. "Have you suffered?" he said, putting out his hand to her +and taking hers.</p> + +<p>"Suffered!" she exclaimed, drawing away her hand, and sitting +bolt upright and shaking her head. "Do you think that I am a fool, +not to know! Do you suppose that I am blind and deaf? When I +said that I was one of those who could not afford to wear a heart, did +you imagine that I had been able to get rid of the article? No, it is +here still," and she put her hand upon her side. "It is here still, and +very troublesome I find it. I suppose the time will come when it will +die away. They say that every plant will fade if it be shut in from the +light, and never opened to the rains of heaven."</p> + +<p>"Alas! alas!" he said. "I did not know that you would feel like +that."</p> + +<p>"Of course I feel. I have had something to do with my life, and I +have done this with it! Two men have honoured me with their +choice, and out of the two I have chosen—Mr. Houghton. I comfort +myself by telling myself that I did right;—and I did do right. But the<!-- Page 119 --> +comfort is not very comforting." Still he sat looking at the fire. He +knew that it was open to him to get up and swear to her that she still +had his heart. She could not be angry with him as she had said as +much to himself. And he almost believed at the moment that it was +so. He was quite alive to the attraction of the wickedness, though, +having a conscience, he was aware that the wickedness should, if possible, +be eschewed. There is no romance in loving one's own wife. +The knowledge that it is a duty deadens the pleasure. "I did not +mean to say all this," she exclaimed at last, sobbing.</p> + +<p>"Adelaide!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Do you love me? You may love me without anything wrong."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do." Then there was an embrace, and after that he +hurried away, almost without another word.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">RATHER "BOISTEROUS."</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">"After</span> all, he's very dreary!" It was this that Adelaide Houghton +spoke to herself as soon as Lord George had left her. No doubt +the whole work of the interview had fallen on to her shoulders. He +had at last been talked into saying that he loved her, and had then run +away frightened by the unusual importance and tragic signification of +his own words. "After all, he's very dreary."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Houghton wanted excitement. She probably did like Lord +George as well as she liked any one. Undoubtedly she would have +married him had he been able to maintain her as she liked to be maintained. +But, as he had been unable, she had taken Mr. Houghton +without a notion on her part of making even an attempt to love him. +When she said that she could not afford to wear a heart,—and she had +said so to various friends and acquaintances,—she did entertain an +idea that circumstances had used her cruelly, that she had absolutely +been forced to marry a stupid old man, and that therefore some little +freedom was due to her as a compensation. Lord George was Lord +George, and might, possibly, some day be a marquis. He was at any +rate a handsome man, and he had owned allegiance to her before he +had transferred his homage to that rich little chit Mary Lovelace. +She was incapable of much passion, but she did feel that she owed it +to herself to have some revenge on Mary Lovelace. The game as it +stood had charms sufficient to induce her to go on with it; and yet,—after +all, he was dreary.</p> + +<p>Such was the lady's feeling when she was left alone; but Lord<!-- Page 120 --> +George went away from the meeting almost overcome by the excitement +of the occasion. To him the matter was of such stirring moment +that he could not go home, could not even go to his club. He was so +moved by his various feelings, that he could only walk by himself and +consider things. To her that final embrace had meant very little. +What did it signify? He had taken her in his arms and kissed her +forehead. It might have been her lips had he so pleased. But to him +it had seemed to mean very much indeed. There was a luxury in it +which almost intoxicated him, and a horror in it which almost quelled +him. That she should so love him as to be actually subdued by her +love could not but charm him. He had none of that strength which +arms a man against flatterers;—none of that experience which strengthens +a man against female cajolery. It was to him very serious and +very solemn. There might, perhaps, have been exaggeration in her +mode of describing her feelings, but there could be no doubt in this,—that +he had held her in his arms and that she was another man's +wife.</p> + +<p>The wickedness of the thing was more wicked to him than the +charm of it was charming. It was dreadful to him to think that he had +done a thing of which he would have to be ashamed if the knowledge +of it were brought to his wife's ears. That he should have to own +himself to have been wrong to her would tear him to pieces! That +he should lord it over her as a real husband, was necessary to his +happiness, and how can a man be a real lord over a woman when +he has had to confess his fault to her, and to beg her to forgive him? +A wife's position with her husband may be almost improved by such +asking for pardon. It will enhance his tenderness. But the man is +so lowered that neither of them can ever forget the degradation. +And, though it might never come to that, though this terrible passion +might be concealed from her, still it was a grievance to him and a disgrace +that he should have anything to conceal. It was a stain in his +own eyes on his own nobility, a slur upon his escutcheon, a taint in his +hitherto unslobbered honesty, and then the sin of it;—the sin of it! To +him it already sat heavy on his conscience. In his ear, even now, sounded +that commandment which he weekly prayed that he might be permitted +to keep. While with her there was hardly left a remembrance of the kiss +which he had imprinted on her brow, his lips were still burning with +the fever. Should he make up his mind, now at once, that he would +never, never see her again? Should he resolve that he would write +to her a moving tragic letter,—not a love letter,—in which he would +set forth the horrors of unhallowed love, and tell her that there must +be a gulf between them, over which neither must pass till age should +have tamed their passions! As he walked across the park he meditated +what would be the fitting words for such a letter, and almost +determined that it should be written. Did he not owe his first duty +to his wife, and was he not bound for her sake to take such a step?<!-- Page 121 --> +Then, as he wandered alone in Kensington Gardens,—for it had taken +him many steps, and occupied much time to think of it all,—there +came upon him an idea that perhaps the lady would not receive the +letter in the proper spirit. Some idea occurred to him of the ridicule +which would befall him should the lady at last tell him that he had +really exaggerated matters. And then the letter might be shown to +others. He did love the lady. With grief and shame and a stricken +conscience he owned to himself that he loved her. But he could not +quite trust her. And so, as he walked down towards the Albert +Memorial, he made up his mind that he would not write the letter. +But he also made up his mind,—he thought that he made up his mind,—that +he would go no more alone to Berkeley Square.</p> + +<p>As he walked on he suddenly came upon his wife walking with +Captain De Baron, and he was immediately struck by the idea that +his wife ought not to be walking in Kensington Gardens with Captain +De Baron. The idea was so strong as altogether to expel from his +mind for the moment all remembrance of Mrs. Houghton. He had +been unhappy before because he was conscious that he was illtreating +his wife, but now he was almost more disturbed because it seemed to +him to be possible that his wife was illtreating him. He had left her +but a few minutes ago,—he thought of it now as being but a few +minutes since,—telling her with almost his last word that she was +specially bound, more bound than other women, to mind her own +conduct,—and here she was walking in Kensington Gardens with +a man whom all the world called Jack De Baron? As he approached +them his brow became clouded, and she could see that it was so. She +could not but fear that her companion would see it also. Lord George +was thinking how to address them, and had already determined on +tucking his wife under his own arm and carrying her off, before he +saw that a very little way behind them the Dean was walking with—Adelaide +Houghton herself. Though he had been more than an hour +wandering about the park he could not understand that the lady +whom he had left in her own house so recently, in apparently so great +a state of agitation, should be there also, in her best bonnet and quite +calm. He had no words immediately at command, but she was as +voluble as ever. "Doesn't this seem odd?" she said. "Why, it is +not ten minutes since you left me in Berkeley Square. I wonder what +made you come here."</p> + +<p>"What made you come?"</p> + +<p>"Jack brought me here. If it were not for Jack I should never +walk or ride or do anything, except sit in a stupid carriage. And just +at the gate of the gardens we met the Dean and Lady George."</p> + +<p>This was very simple and straightforward. There could be no doubt +of the truth of it all. Lady George had come out with her father and +nothing could be more as it ought to be. As to "Jack" and the lady he +did not, at any rate as yet, feel himself justified in being angry at that<!-- Page 122 --> +arrangement. But nevertheless he was disturbed. His wife had been +laughing when he first saw her, and Jack had been talking, and they +had seemed to be very happy together. The Dean no doubt was there; +but still the fact remained that Jack had been laughing and talking +with his wife. He almost doubted whether his wife ought under any +circumstances to laugh in Kensington Gardens. And then the Dean +was so indiscreet! He, Lord George, could not of course forbid his +wife to walk with her father;—but the Dean had no idea that +any real looking after was necessary for anybody. He at once gave +his arm to his wife, but in two minutes she had dropped it. They +were on the steps of the Albert Memorial, and it was perhaps natural +that she should do so. But he hovered close to her as they were looking +at the figures, and was uneasy. "I think it's the prettiest thing in +London," said the Dean, "one of the prettiest things in the world."</p> + +<p>"Don't you find it very cold?" said Lord George, who did not at +the present moment care very much for the fine arts.</p> + +<p>"We have been walking quick," said Mrs. Houghton, "and have +enjoyed it." The Dean with the two others had now passed round +one of the corners. "I wonder," she went on, "I do wonder how it +has come to pass that we should be brought together again so soon!"</p> + +<p>"We both happened to come the same way," said Lord George, who +was still thinking of his wife.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—that must have been it. Though is it not a strange coincidence? +My mind had been so flurried that I was glad to get out into +the fresh air. When shall I see you again?" He couldn't bring himself +to say—never. There would have been a mock-tragic element +about the single word which even he felt. And yet, here on the steps +of the monument, there was hardly an opportunity for him to explain +at length the propriety of their both agreeing to be severed. "You +wish to see me;—don't you?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I hardly know what to say."</p> + +<p>"But you love me!" She was now close to him, and there was no one +else near enough to interfere. She was pressing close up to him, and he +was sadly ashamed of himself. And yet he did love her. He thought +that she had never looked so well as at the present moment. "Say +that you love me," she said, stamping her foot almost imperiously.</p> + +<p>"You know I do, but—"</p> + +<p>"But what."</p> + +<p>"I had better come to you again and tell you all." The words were +no sooner out of his mouth than he remembered that he had resolved +that he would never go to her again. But yet, after what had passed, +something must be done. He had also made up his mind that he +wouldn't write. He had quite made up his mind about that. The +words that are written remain. It would perhaps be better that he +should go to her and tell her everything.</p> + +<p>"Of course you will come again," she said. "What is it ails you?<!-- Page 123 --> +You are unhappy because she is here with my cousin Jack?" It was +intolerable to him that any one should suspect him of jealousy. +"Jack has a way of getting intimate with people, but it means +nothing." It was dreadful to him that an allusion should be made +to the possibility of anybody "meaning anything" with his wife.</p> + +<p>Just at this moment Jack's voice was heard coming back round the +corner, and also the laughter of the Dean. Captain De Baron had +been describing the persons represented on the base of the monument, +and had done so after some fashion of his own that had infinitely +amused not only Lady George but her father also. "You ought to +be appointed Guide to the Memorial," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"If Lady George will give me a testimonial no doubt I might get +it, Dean," said Jack.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you know anything about any of them," said Lady +George. "I'm sure you've told me wrong about two. You're the last +man in the world that ought to be a guide to anything."</p> + +<p>"Will you come and be guide, and I'll just sweep the steps!"</p> + +<p>Lord George heard the last words, and allowed himself to be annoyed +at them, though he felt them to be innocent. He knew that his +wife was having a game of pleasant play, like a child with a pleasant +play-fellow. But then he was not satisfied that his wife should play +like a child,—and certainly not with such a playfellow. He doubted +whether his wife ought to allow playful intimacy from any man. +Marriage was to him a very serious thing. Was he not prepared to give +up a real passion because he had made this other woman his wife? +In thinking over all this his mind was not very logical, but he did feel +that he was justified in exacting particularly strict conduct from her +because he was going to make Mrs. Houghton understand that they +two, though they loved each other, must part. If he could sacrifice +so much for his wife, surely she might sacrifice something for him.</p> + +<p>They returned altogether to Hyde Park Corner and then they separated. +Jack went away towards Berkeley Square with his cousin; +the Dean got himself taken in a cab to his club; and Lord George +walked his wife down Constitution Hill towards their own home. +He felt it to be necessary that he should say something to his wife; +but, at the same time, was specially anxious that he should give her +no cause to suspect him of jealousy. Nor was he jealous, in the +ordinary sense of the word. He did not suppose for a moment that +his wife was in love with Jack De Baron, or Jack with his wife. But +he did think that whereas she had very little to say to her own husband +she had a great deal to say to Jack. And he was sensible, also, of a +certain unbecomingness in such amusement on her part. She had to +struggle upwards, so as to be able to sustain properly the position and +dignity of Lady George Germain, and the possible dignity of the +Marchioness of Brotherton. She ought not to want playfellows. If +she would really have learned the names of all those artists on the<!-- Page 124 --> +base of the Memorial, as she might so easily have done, there would +have been something in it. A lady ought to know, at any rate, the +names of such men. But she had allowed this Jack to make a joke of +it all, and had rather liked the joke. And the Dean had laughed +loud,—more like the son of a stable-keeper than a Dean. Lord +George was almost more angry with the Dean than with his wife. +The Dean, when at Brotherton, did maintain a certain amount of +dignity; but here, up in London, he seemed to be intent only on +"having a good time," like some schoolboy out on a holiday.</p> + +<p>"Were you not a little loud when you were on the steps of the +Memorial?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I hope not, George; not too loud."</p> + +<p>"A lady should never be in the least loud, nor for the matter of +that would a gentleman either if he knew what he was about."</p> + +<p>She walked on a little way, leaning on his arm in silence, considering +whether he meant anything by what he was saying, and how +much he meant. She felt almost sure that he did mean something +disagreeable, and that he was scolding her. "I don't quite know +what you mean by loud, George? We were talking, and of course +wanted to make each other hear. I believe with some people loud +means—vulgar. I hope you didn't mean that."</p> + +<p>He certainly would not tell his wife that she was vulgar. "There +is," he said, "a manner of talking which leads people on to—to—being +boisterous."</p> + +<p>"Boisterous, George? Was I boisterous?"</p> + +<p>"I think your father was a little."</p> + +<p>She felt herself blush beneath her veil as she answered. "Of course +if you tell me anything about myself, I will endeavour to do as you +tell me; but, as for papa, I am sure he knows how to behave himself. +I don't think he ought to be found fault with because he likes to +amuse himself."</p> + +<p>"And that Captain De Baron was very loud," said Lord George, +conscious that though his ground might be weak in reference to the +Dean, he could say what he pleased about Jack De Baron.</p> + +<p>"Young men do laugh and talk, don't they, George?"</p> + +<p>"What they do in their barracks, or when they are together, is +nothing to you or me. What such a one may do when he is in company +with my wife is very much to me, and ought to be very much +to you."</p> + +<p>"George," she said, again pausing for a moment, "do you mean to +tell me that I have misbehaved myself? Because, if so, speak it out +at once."</p> + +<p>"My dear, that is a foolish question for you to ask. I have said +nothing about misbehaviour, and you ought, at any rate, to wait till I +have done so. I should be very sorry to use such a word, and do not +think that I shall ever have occasion. But surely you will admit that<!-- Page 125 --> +there may be practises, and manners, and customs on which I am at +liberty to speak to you. I am older than you."</p> + +<p>"Husbands, of course, are older than their wives, but wives generally +know what they are about quite as well as their husbands."</p> + +<p>"Mary, that isn't the proper way to take what I say. You have a +very peculiar place to fill in the world,—a place for which your early +life could not give you the very fittest training."</p> + +<p>"Then why did you put me there?"</p> + +<p>"Because of my love, and also because I had no doubt whatever +as to your becoming fit. There is a levity which is often pretty and +becoming in a girl, in which a married woman in some ranks of life +may, perhaps, innocently indulge, but which is not appropriate to +higher positions."</p> + +<p>"This is all because I laughed when Captain De Baron mispronounced +the men's names. I don't know anything peculiar in my +position. One would suppose that I was going to be made a sort of +female bishop, or to sit all my life as a chairwoman, like that Miss +Mildmay. Of course I laugh when things are said that make me +laugh. And as for Captain De Baron, I think he is very nice. Papa +likes him, and he is always at the Houghtons, and I cannot agree that +he was loud and vulgar, or boisterous, because he made a few innocent +jokes in Kensington Gardens."</p> + +<p>He perceived now, for the first time since he had known her, that +she had a temper of her own, which he might find some difficulty in +controlling. She had endured gently enough his first allusions to +herself, but had risen up in wrath against him from the moment in +which he had spoken disparagingly of her father. At the moment he +had nothing further to say. He had used what eloquence there was +in him, what words he had collected together, and then walked home +in silence. But his mind was full of the matter; and though he made +no further allusion on that day, or for some subsequent days either to +this conversation or to his wife's conduct in the park, he had it always +in his mind. He must be the master, and in order that he might be +master the Dean must be as little as possible in the house. And that +intimacy with Jack De Baron must be crushed,—if only that she +might be taught that he intended to be master.</p> + +<p>Two or three days passed by, and during those two or three days he +did not go to Berkeley Square.<!-- Page 126 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">BETWEEN TWO STOOLS.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">In</span> the middle of the next week the Dean went back to Brotherton. +Before starting he had an interview with Lord George which was not +altogether pleasant; but otherwise he had thoroughly enjoyed his +visit. On the day on which he started he asked his host what inquiries +he intended to set on foot in reference to the validity of the Italian +marriage and the legitimacy of the Italian baby. Now Lord George +had himself in the first instance consulted the Dean on this very +delicate subject, and was therefore not entitled to be angry at having +it again mentioned; but nevertheless he resented the question as an +interference. "I think," he replied, "that at present nothing had +better be said upon the subject."</p> + +<p>"I cannot agree with you there, George."</p> + +<p>"Then I am afraid I must ask you to be silent without agreeing +with me."</p> + +<p>The Dean felt this to be intentionally uncivil. They two were in a +boat together. The injury to be done, if there were an injury, would +affect the wife as much as the husband. The baby which might some +day be born, and which might be robbed of his inheritance, would be +as much the grandchild of the Dean of Brotherton as of the old +Marquis. And then perhaps there was present to the Dean some unacknowledged +feeling that he was paying and would have to pay for +the boat. Much as he revered rank, he was not disposed to be +snubbed by his son-in-law, because his son-in-law was a nobleman. +"You mean to tell me that I am to hold my tongue," he said angrily.</p> + +<p>"For the present I think we had both better do so."</p> + +<p>"That may be, as regards any discussion of the matter with outsiders. +I am not at all disposed to act apart from you on a subject of +such importance to us both. If you tell me that you are advised this +way or that, I should not, without very strong ground, put myself in +opposition to that advice; but I do expect that you will let me know +what is being done."</p> + +<p>"Nothing is being done."</p> + +<p>"And also that you will not finally determine on doing nothing +without consulting me." Lord George drew himself up and bowed, +but made no further reply; and then the two parted, the Dean +resolving that he would be in town again before long, and Lord George +reselving that the Dean should spend as little time as possible in his +house. Now, there had been an undertaking, after a sort, made by +the Dean,—a compact with his daughter contracted in a jocose fashion,—which +in the existing circumstances was like to prove troublesome.<!-- Page 127 --> +There had been a question of expenditure when the house was furnished,—whether +there should or should not be a carriage kept. Lord +George had expressed an opinion that their joint means would not +suffice to keep a carriage. Then the Dean had told his daughter that +he would allow her £300 a-year for her own expenses, to include the +brougham,—for it was to be no more than a brougham,—during the +six months they would be in London, and that he would regard this +as his subscription towards the household. Such a mode of being +generous to his own child was pretty enough. Of course the Dean +would be a welcome visitor. Equally, of course, a son-in-law may +take any amount of money from a father-in-law as a portion of his +wife's fortune. Lord George, though he had suffered some inward +qualms, had found nothing in the arrangement to which he could +object while his friendship with the deanery was close and pleasant. +But now, as the Dean took his departure, and as Mary, while embracing +her father, said something of his being soon back, Lord George +remembered the compact with inward grief, and wished that there had +been no brougham.</p> + +<p>In the mean time he had not been to Berkeley Square; nor was he +at all sure that he would go there. A distant day had been named, +before that exciting interview in the square, on which the Houghtons +were to dine in Munster Court. The Mildmays were also to be there, +and Mrs. Montacute Jones, and old Lord Parachute, Lord George's +uncle. That would be a party, and there would be no danger of a +scene then. He had almost determined that, in spite of his promise, +he would not go to Berkeley Square before the dinner. But Mrs. +Houghton was not of the same mind. A promise on such a subject +was a sacred thing, and therefore she wrote the following note to Lord +George at his club. The secrecy which some correspondence requires +certainly tends to make a club a convenient arrangement. "Why +don't you come as you said you would? A." In olden times, fifteen +or twenty years ago, when telegraph wires were still young, and +messages were confined to diplomatic secrets, horse-racing, and the +rise and fall of stocks, lovers used to indulge in rapturous expressions +which would run over pages; but the pith and strength of laconic diction +has now been taught to us by the self-sacrificing patriotism of the +Post Office. We have all felt the vigour of telegrammatic expression, +and, even when we do not trust the wire, we employ the force of wiry +language. "Wilt thou be mine?—M. N.," is now the ordinary form +of an offer of marriage by post; and the answer seldom goes beyond +"Ever thine—P. Q." Adelaide Houghton's love-letter was very short, +but it was short from judgment and with a settled purpose. She +believed that a long epistle declaratory of her everlasting but unfortunate +attachment would frighten him. These few words would say +all that she had to say, and would say it safely. He certainly had +promised that he would go to her, and, as a gentleman, he was bound<!-- Page 128 --> +to keep his word. He had mentioned no exact time, but it had been +understood that the visit was to be made at once. He would not write +to her. Heaven and earth! How would it be with him if Mr. +Houghton were to find the smallest scrap from him indicating improper +affection for Mrs. Houghton? He could not answer the note, +and therefore he must go at once.</p> + +<p>He went into a deserted corner of a drawing-room at his club, and +there seated himself for half an hour's meditation. How should he +extricate himself from this dilemma? In what language should he +address a young and beautiful woman devoted to him, but whose +devotion he was bound to repudiate? He was not voluble in conversation, +and he was himself aware of his own slowness. It was essential +to him that he should prepare beforehand almost the very words for +an occasion of such importance,—the very words and gestures and +action. Would she not fly into his arms, or at least expect that he +should open his own? That must be avoided. There must be no +embracing. And then he must at once proceed to explain all the +evils of this calamitous passion;—how he was the husband of another +wife; how she was the wife of another husband; how they were bound +by honour, by religion, and equally by prudence to remember the +obligations they had incurred. He must beg her to be silent while he +said all this, and then he would conclude by assuring her that she should +always possess his steadiest friendship. The excogitation of this took +long, partly because his mind was greatly exercised in the matter, and +partly through a nervous desire to postpone the difficult moment. At +last, however, he seized his hat and went away straight to Berkeley +Square. Yes, Mrs. Houghton was at home. He had feared that there +was but little chance that she should be out on the very day on which +she knew that he would get her note. "Oh, so you have come at +last," she said as soon as the drawing-room door was closed. She did +not get up from her chair, and there was therefore no danger of that +immediate embrace which he had felt that it would be almost equally +dangerous to refuse or to accept.</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "I have come."</p> + +<p>"And now sit down and make yourself comfortable. It's very bad +out of doors, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Cold, but dry."</p> + +<p>"With a wretched east wind. I know it, and I don't mean to stir +out the whole day. So you may put your hat down, and not think of +going for the next hour and a half." It was true that he had his hat +still in his hand, and he deposited it forthwith on the floor, feeling +that had he been master of the occasion, he would have got rid of it less +awkwardly. "I shouldn't wonder if Mary were to be here by and by. +There was a sort of engagement that she and Jack De Baron were to +come and play bagatelle in the back drawing-room; but Jack never +comes if he says he will, and I daresay she has forgotten all about it."<!-- Page 129 --></p> + +<p>He found that his purpose was altogether upset. In the first place, +he could hardly begin about her unfortunate passion when she received +him just as though he were an ordinary acquaintance; and then the +whole tenour of his mind was altered by this allusion to Jack De +Baron. Had it come to this, that he could not get through a day +without having Jack De Baron thrown at his head? He had from the +first been averse to living in London; but this was much worse than +he had expected. Was it to be endured that his wife should make +appointments to play bagatelle with Jack De Baron by way of passing +her time? "I had heard nothing about it," he said with gloomy, +truthful significance. It was impossible for him to lie even by a +glance of his eye or a tone of his voice. He told it all at once; how +unwilling he was that his wife should come out on purpose to meet this +man, and how little able he felt himself to prevent it.</p> + +<p>"Of course dear Mary has to amuse herself," said the lady, +answering the man's look rather than his words. "And why should +she not?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know that bagatelle is a very improving occupation."</p> + +<p>"Or Jack a very improving companion, perhaps. But I can tell +you, George, that there are more dangerous companions than poor +Jack. And then, Mary, who is the sweetest, dearest young woman +I know, is not impulsive in that way. She is such a very child. I +don't suppose she understands what passion means. She has the +gaiety of a lark, and the innocence. She is always soaring upwards, +which is so beautiful."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that there is much soaring upwards in bagatelle."</p> + +<p>"Nor in Jack De Baron, perhaps. But we must take all that as +we find it. Of course Mary will have to amuse herself. She will +never live such a life as your sisters live at Manor Cross. The word +that best describes her disposition is—gay. But she is not mischievous."</p> + +<p>"I hope not."</p> + +<p>"Nor is she—passionate. You know what I mean." He did know +what she meant, and was lost in amazement at finding that one woman, +in talking of another, never contemplated the idea that passion could +exist in a wife for her husband. He was to regard himself as safe, not +because his wife loved himself, but because it was not necessary to her +nature to be in love with any one! "You need not be afraid," she +went on to say. "I know Jack au fond. He tells me everything; and +should there be anything to fear, I will let you know at once."</p> + +<p>But what had all this to do with the momentous occasion which had +brought him to Berkeley Square? He was almost beginning to be +sore at heart because she had not thrown herself into his arms. There +was no repetition of that "But you do love me?" which had been so +very alarming but at the same time so very exciting on the steps of +the Albert Memorial. And then there seemed to be a probability that<!-- Page 130 --> +the words which he had composed with so much care at his club would +be altogether wasted. He owed it to himself to do or to say something, +to allude in some way to his love and hers. He could not allow +himself to be brought there in a flurry of excitement, and there to sit +till it was time for him to go, just as though it were an ordinary +morning visit. "You bade me come," he said, "and so I came."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did bid you come. I would always have you come."</p> + +<p>"That can hardly be; can it?"</p> + +<p>"My idea of a friend,—of a man friend, I mean, and a real friend—is +some one to whom I can say everything, who will do everything for +me, who will come if I bid him and will like to stay and talk to me +just as long as I will let him; who will tell me everything, and as to +whom I may be sure that he likes me better than anybody else in the +world, though he perhaps doesn't tell me so above once a month. +And then in return——"</p> + +<p>"Well, what in return?"</p> + +<p>"I should think a good deal about him, you know; but I shouldn't +want always to be telling him that I was thinking about him. He +ought to be contented with knowing how much he was to me. I +suppose that would not suffice for you?"</p> + +<p>Lord George was disposed to think that it would suffice, and that +the whole matter was now being represented to him in a very different +light than that in which he had hitherto regarded it. The word +"friend" softened down so many asperities! With such a word in +his mind he need not continually scare himself with the decalogue. +All the pleasure might be there, and the horrors altogether omitted. +There would, indeed, be no occasion for his eloquence; but he had +already become conscious that at this interview his eloquence could +not be used. She had given everything so different a turn! "Why +not suffice for me?" he said. "Only this,—that all I did for my +friend I should expect her to do for me."</p> + +<p>"But that is unreasonable. Who doesn't see that in the world at +large men have the best of it almost in everything. The husband is +not only justified in being a tyrant, but becomes contemptible if he is +not so. A man has his pocket full of money; a woman is supposed +to take what he gives her. A man has all manner of amusements."</p> + +<p>"What amusements have I?"</p> + +<p>"You can come to me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I can do that."</p> + +<p>"I cannot go to you. But when you come to me,—if I am to believe +that I am really your friend,—then I am to be the tyrant of the +moment. Is it not so? Do you think you would find me a hard +tyrant? I own to you freely that there is nothing in the world I like +so much as your society. Do I not earn by that a right to some +obedience from you, to some special observance?"</p> + +<p>All this was so different from what he had expected, and so much<!-- Page 131 --> +more pleasant! As far as he could look into it and think of it at the +pressure of the moment he did not see any reason why it should not be +as she proposed. There was clearly no need for those prepared words. +There had been one embrace,—an embrace that was objectionable because, +had either his wife seen it or Mr. Houghton, he would have been +forced to own himself wrong; but that had come from sudden impulse, +and need not be repeated. This that was now proposed to him was +friendship, and not love. "You shall have all observance," he said +with his sweetest smile.</p> + +<p>"And as to obedience? But you are a man, and therefore must +not be pressed too hard. And now I may tell you what is the only +thing that can make me happy, and the absence of which would make +me miserable."</p> + +<p>"What thing?"</p> + +<p>"Your society." He blushed up to his eyes as he heard this. "Now +that, I think, is a very pretty speech, and I expect something equally +pretty from you." He was much embarrassed, but was at the moment +delivered from his embarrassment by the entrance of his wife. "Here +she is," said Mrs. Houghton, getting up from her chair. <a name="tn_pg_140"></a><!-- TN: double quote added here-->"We have +been just talking about you, my dear. If you have come for bagatelle, +you must play with Lord George, for Jack De Baron isn't +here."</p> + +<p>"But I haven't come for bagatelle."</p> + +<p>"So much the better, for I doubt whether Lord George would be +very good at it. I have been made to play so much that I hate the +very sound of the balls."</p> + +<p>"I didn't expect to find you here," said Mary, turning to her +husband.</p> + +<p>"Nor I you, till Mrs. Houghton said that you were coming."</p> + +<p>After that there was nothing of interest in their conversation. Jack +did not come, and after a few minutes Lord George proposed to his +wife that they should return home together. Of course she assented, +and as soon as they were in the brougham made a little playful attack +upon him. "You are becoming fond of Berkeley Square, I think."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Houghton is a friend of mine, and I am fond of my friends," +he said, gravely.</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course."</p> + +<p>"You went there to play that game with Captain De Baron."</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't. I did nothing of the kind."</p> + +<p>"Were you not there by appointment?"</p> + +<p>"I told her that I should probably call. We were to have gone to +some shop together, only it seems she has changed her mind. Why +do you tell me that I had gone there to play some game with Captain +De Baron?"</p> + +<p>"Bagatelle."</p> + +<p>"Bagatelle, or anything else! It isn't true. I have played baga<!-- Page 132 -->telle +with Captain de Baron, and I daresay I may again. Why +shouldn't I?"</p> + +<p>"And if so, would probably make some appointment to play with +him."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"That was all I said. What I suggested you had done is what you +declare you will do."</p> + +<p>"But I had done nothing of the kind. I know very well, from the +tone of your voice, that you meant to scold me. You implied that I +had done something wrong. If I had done it, it wouldn't be wrong, +as far as I know. But your scolding me about it when I hadn't done +it at all is very hard to bear."</p> + +<p>"I didn't scold you."</p> + +<p>"Yes you did, George. I understand your voice and your look. If +you mean to forbid me to play bagatelle with Captain De Baron, or +Captain anybody else, or to talk with Mr. This, or to laugh with Major +That, tell me so at once. If I know what you want, I will do it. +But I must say that I shall feel it very, very hard if I cannot take +care of myself in such matters as that. If you are going to be jealous, +I shall wish that I were dead."</p> + +<p>Then she burst out crying; and he, though he would not quite own +that he had been wrong, was forced to do so practically by little acts +of immediate tenderness.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">THE MARQUIS COMES HOME.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Some</span> little time after the middle of April, when the hunting was all +over, and Mr. Price had sunk down into his summer insignificance, +there came half a dozen telegrams to Manor Cross, from Italy, from +Mr. Knox, and from a certain managing tradesman in London, to say +that the Marquis was coming a fortnight sooner than he had expected. +Everything was at sixes and sevens. Everything was in a ferment. +Everybody about Manor Cross seemed to think that the world was +coming to an end. But none of these telegrams were addressed to any of +the Germain family, and the last people in the county who heard of this +homeward rush of the Marquis were the ladies at Cross Hall, and they +heard it from Lord George, upon whom Mr. Knox called in London; +supposing, however, when he did call that Lord George had already +received full information on the subject. Lord George's letter to Lady +Sarah was full of dismay, full of horror. "As he has not taken the +trouble to communicate his intentions to me, I shall not go down to +receive him." "You will know how to deal with the matter, and<!-- Page 133 --> +will, I am sure, support our mother in this terrible trial." "I think +that the child should, at any rate, at first be acknowledged by you all +as Lord Popenjoy." "We have to regard, in the first place, the honour +of the family. No remissness on his part should induce us to forget +for a moment what is due to the title, the property, and the name." +The letter was very long, and was full of sententious instructions, +such as the above. But the purport of it was to tell the ladies at +Cross Hall that they must go through the first burden of receiving +the Marquis without any assistance from himself.</p> + +<p>The Dean heard of the reported arrival some days before the family +did so. It was rumoured in Brotherton, and the rumour reached +the deanery. But he thought that there was nothing that he could +do on the spur of the moment. He perfectly understood the condition +of Lord George's mind, and perceived that it would not be +expedient for him to interfere quite on the first moment. As soon as +the Marquis should have settled himself in the house, of course he +would call; and when the Marquis had settled himself, and when the +world had begun to recognise the fact that the Marquis, with his +Italian Marchioness, and his little Italian, so-called Popenjoy, were +living at Manor Cross, then,—if he saw his way,—the Dean would +bestir himself.</p> + +<p>And so the Marquis arrived. He reached the Brotherton station +with his wife, a baby, a lady's maid, a nurse, a valet, a cook, and a +courier, about three o'clock in the afternoon; and the whole crowd of +them were carried off in their carriages to Manor Cross. A great many +of the inhabitants of Brotherton were there to see, for this coming of +the Marquis had been talked of far and wide. He himself took no +notice of the gathering people,—was perhaps unaware that there was +any gathering. He and his wife got into one carriage; the nurse, the +lady's maid, and the baby into a second; the valet and courier, and +cook into a third. The world of Brotherton saw them, and the world +of Brotherton observed that the lady was very old and very ugly. +Why on earth could he have married such a woman as that, and then +have brought her home! That was the exclamation which was made +by Brotherton in general.</p> + +<p>It was soon ascertained by every one about Manor Cross that the +Marchioness could not speak a word of English, nor could any of the +newly imported servants do so with the exception of the courier, who +was supposed to understand all languages. There was, therefore, an +absolutely divided household. It had been thought better that the old +family housekeeper, Mrs. Toff, should remain in possession. Through +a long life she had been devoted to the old Marchioness and to the +ladies of the family generally; but she would have been useless at +their new home, and there was an idea that Manor Cross could not be +maintained without her. It might also be expedient to have a friend +in the enemy's camp. Other English servants had been provided,—a<!-- Page 134 --> +butler, two footmen, a coachman, and the necessary housemaids and +kitchen maids. It had been stated that the Marquis would bring his +own cook. There were, therefore, at once two parties, at the head of +one of which was Mrs. Toff, and at the head of the other the courier,—who +remained, none of the English people knew why.</p> + +<p>For the first three days the Marchioness showed herself to no one. It +was understood that the fatigues of the journey had oppressed her, +and that she chose to confine herself to two or three rooms upstairs, +which had been prepared for her. Mrs. Toff, strictly obeying orders +which had come from Cross Hall, sent up her duty and begged to +know whether she should wait upon my lady. My lady sent down +word that she didn't want to see Mrs. Toff. These messages had to +be filtered through the courier, who was specially odious to Mrs. Toff. +His Lordship was almost as closely secluded as her Ladyship. He +did, indeed, go out to the stables, wrapped up in furs, and found +fault with everything he saw there. And he had himself driven round +the park. But he did not get up on any of these days till noon, and +took all his meals by himself. The English servants averred that +during the whole of this time he never once saw the Marchioness or +the baby; but then the English servants could not very well have +known what he saw or what he did not see.</p> + +<p>But this was very certain, that during those three days <a name="tn_pg_143"></a><!-- TN: original reads "de"-->he did not go +to Cross Hall, or see any one of his own family. Mrs. Toff in the +gloaming of the evening, on the third day, hurried across the park to +see—the young ladies as she still called them. Mrs. Toff thought that +it was all very dreadful. She didn't know what was being done in +those apartments. She had never set her eyes upon the baby. She +didn't feel sure that there was any baby at all, though John,—John was +one of the English servants,—had seen a bundle come into the house. +Wouldn't it be natural and right that any real child should be carried +out to take the air? "And then all manner of messes were," said +Mrs. Toff, "prepared up in the closed room." Mrs. Toff didn't believe +in anything, except that everything was going to perdition. The Marchioness +was intent on asking after the health and appearance of her +son, but Mrs. Toff declared that she hadn't been allowed to catch +a sight of "my lord." Mrs. Toff's account was altogether very +lachrymose. She spoke of the Marquis, of course, with the utmost +respect. But she was sufficiently intimate with the ladies to treat the +baby and its mother with all the scorn of an upturned nose. Nor was +the name of Popenjoy once heard from her lips.</p> + +<p>But what were the ladies to do? On the evening of the third day +Lady Sarah wrote to her brother George, begging him to come down +to them. "The matter was so serious, that he was," said Lady Sarah, +"bound to lend the strength of his presence to his mother and +sisters." But on the fourth morning Lady Sarah sent over a note to +her brother, the Marquis.<!-- Page 135 --></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Brotherton</span>,—We hope that you and your wife and little +boy have arrived well, and have found things comfortable. Mamma is +most anxious to see you,—as of course we all are. Will you not come +over to us to-day. I dare say my sister-in-law may be too fatigued to +come out as yet. I need not tell you that we are very anxious to see +your little Popenjoy.</p> + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature2">"Your affectionate Sister,<br></span> +<span class="smcap presignature3"><a name="tn_pg_144"></a><!-- TN: end quote added-->"Sarah Germain."<br></span> +</div> + +</div> + +<p>It may be seen from this that the ladies contemplated peace, if +peace were possible. But in truth the nature of the letter, though not +the words, had been dictated by the Marchioness. She was intent +upon seeing her son, and anxious to acknowledge her grandchild. +Lady Sarah had felt her position to be very difficult, but had perceived +that no temporary acceptance by them of the child would at all +injure her brother George's claim, should Lord George set up a claim, +and so, in deference to the old lady, the peaceful letter was sent off, +with directions to the messenger to wait for an answer. The messenger +came back with tidings that his Lordship was in bed. Then there was +another consultation. The Marquis, though in bed, had of course +read the letter. Had he felt at all as a son and a brother ought to feel, +he would have sent some reply to such a message. It must be, they felt, +that he intended to live there and utterly ignore his mother and sisters. +What should they do then? How should they be able to live? The +Marchioness surrendered herself to a paroxysm of weeping, bitterly +blaming those who had not allowed her to go away and hide herself in +some distant obscurity. Her son, her eldest son, had cast her off because +she had disobeyed his orders! "His orders!" said Lady Sarah, +in scorn, almost in wrath against her mother. "What right has he to +give orders either to you or us? He has forgotten himself, and is only +worthy to be forgotten." Just as she spoke the Manor Cross phaeton, +with the Manor Cross ponies, was driven up to the door, and Lady +Amelia, who went to the window, declared that Brotherton himself +was in the carriage. "Oh, my son; my darling son," said the Marchioness, +throwing up her arms.</p> + +<p>It really was the Marquis. It seemed to the ladies to be a very +long time indeed before he got into the room, so leisurely was he in +divesting himself of his furs and comforters. During this time the +Marchioness would have rushed into the hall had not Lady Sarah prevented +her. The old lady was quite overcome with emotion, and prepared +to lay at the feet of her eldest son, if he would only extend to +her the slightest sign of affection. "So, here you all are," he said as +he entered the room. "It isn't much of a house for you, but you +would have it so." He was of course forced to kiss his mother, but +the kiss was not very fervent in its nature. To each of his sisters he +merely extended his hand. This Amelia received with empressement;<!-- Page 136 --> +for, after all, severe though he was, nevertheless he was the head of +the family. Susanna measured the pressure which he gave, and +returned back to him the exact weight. Lady Sarah made a little +speech. "We are very glad to see you; Brotherton. You have been +away a long time."</p> + +<p>"A deuced long time."</p> + +<p>"I hope your wife is well;—and the little boy. When will she +wish that we should go and see her?" The Marchioness during this +time had got possession of his left hand, and from her seat was gazing +up into his face. He was a very handsome man, but pale, worn, thin, +and apparently unhealthy. He was very like Lord George, but +smaller in feature, and wanting full four inches of his brother's height. +Lord George's hair was already becoming grey at the sides. That of +the Marquis, who was ten years older, was perfectly black;—but his +Lordship's valet had probably more to do with that than nature. He +wore an exquisite moustache, but in other respects was close shaven. +He was dressed with great care, and had fur even on the collar of his +frock coat, so much did he fear the inclemency of his native climate.</p> + +<p>"She doesn't speak a word of English, you know," he said, answering +his sister's question.</p> + +<p>"We might manage to get on in French," said Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>"She doesn't speak a word of French either. She never was out of +Italy till now. You had better not trouble yourselves about her."</p> + +<p>This was dreadful to them all. It was monstrous to them that there +should be a Marchioness of Brotherton, a sister-in-law, living close to +them, whom they were to acknowledge to be the reigning Marchioness, +and that they should not be allowed to see her. It was not that they +anticipated pleasure from her acquaintance. It was not that they +were anxious to welcome such a new relation. This marriage, if it +were a marriage, was a terrible blow to them. It would have been infinitely +better for them all that, having such a wife, he should have +kept her in Italy. But, as she was here in England, as she was to be +acknowledged,—as far as they knew at present,—it was a fearful thing +that she should be living close to them and not be seen by them. For +some moments after his last announcement they were stricken dumb. +He was standing with his back to the fire, looking at his boots. The +Marchioness was the first to speak. "We may see Popenjoy!" she +exclaimed through her sobs.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he can be brought down,—if you care about it."</p> + +<p>"Of course we care about it," said Lady Amelia.</p> + +<p>"They tell me he is not strong, and I don't suppose they'll let him +come out such weather as this. You'll have to wait. I don't think +any body ought to stir out in this weather. It doesn't suit me, I +know. Such an abominable place as it is I never saw in my life. +There is not a room in the house that is not enough to make a man +blow his brains out."<!-- Page 137 --></p> + +<p>Lady Sarah could not stand this, nor did she think it right to put +up with the insolence of his manner generally. "If so," she said, +"it is a pity that you came away from Italy."</p> + +<p>He turned sharply round and looked at her for an instant before he +answered. And as he did so she remembered the peculiar tyranny of +his eyes,—the tyranny to which, when a boy, he had ever endeavoured +to make her subject, and all others around him. Others had become +subject because he was the Lord Popenjoy of the day, and would be +the future Marquis; but she, though recognising his right to be first +in every thing, had ever rebelled against his usurpation of unauthorized +power. He, too, remembered all this, and almost snarled at +her with his eyes. "I suppose I might stay if I liked, or come back +if I liked, without asking you," he said.</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"But you are the same as ever you were."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Brotherton," said the Marchioness, "do not quarrel with us +directly you have come back."</p> + +<p>"You may be quite sure, mother, that I shall not take the trouble +to quarrel with any one. It takes two for that work. If I wanted +to quarrel with her or you, I have cause enough."</p> + +<p>"I know of none," said Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>"I explained to you my wishes about this house, and you disregarded +them altogether." The old lady looked up at her eldest daughter +as though to say, "There,—that was your sin." "I knew what was +better for you and better for me. It is impossible that there should +be pleasant intercourse between you and my wife, and I recommended +you to go elsewhere. If you had done so I would have taken care that +you were comfortable." Again the Marchioness looked at Lady Sarah +with bitter reproaches in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"What interest in life would we have had in a distant home?" said +Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>"Why not you as well as other people?"</p> + +<p>"Because, unlike other people, we have become devoted to one +spot. The property belongs to you."</p> + +<p>"I hope so."</p> + +<p>"But the obligations of the property have been, at any rate, as +near to us as to you. Society, I suppose, may be found in a new +place, but we do not care much for society."</p> + +<p>"Then it would have been so much the easier."</p> + +<p>"But it would have been impossible for us to find new <a name="tn_pg_146"></a><!-- TN: single quote changed to double after "duties."-->duties."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said the Marquis, "humbug; d——d trash."</p> + +<p>"If you cannot speak otherwise than like that before your mother, +Brotherton, I think you had better leave her," said Lady Sarah, +bravely.</p> + +<p>"Don't, Sarah,—don't!" said the Marchioness.</p> + +<p>"It is trash and nonsense, and humbug. I told you that you were<!-- Page 138 --> +better away, and you determined to stay. I knew what was best for +you, but you chose to be obstinate. I have not the slightest doubt as +to who did it."</p> + +<p>"We were all of the same mind," said Lady Susanna. "Alice said +it would be quite cruel that mamma should be moved." Alice was +now the wife of Canon Holdenough.</p> + +<p>"It would have been very bad for us all to go away," said Lady +Amelia.</p> + +<p>"George was altogether against it," said Lady Susanna.</p> + +<p>"And the Dean," said Lady Amelia, indiscreetly.</p> + +<p>"The Dean!" exclaimed the Marquis. "Do you mean to say that +that stable boy has been consulted about my affairs? I should have +thought that not one of you would have spoken to George after he had +disgraced himself by such a marriage."</p> + +<p>"There was no need to consult any one," said Lady Sarah. "And +we do not think George's marriage at all disgraceful."</p> + +<p>"Mary is a very nice young person," said the Marchioness.</p> + +<p>"I dare say. Whether she is nice or not is very little to me. She +has got some fortune, and I suppose that was what he wanted. As +you are all of you fixed here now, and seem to have spent a lot of +money, I suppose you will have to remain. You have turned my +tenant out——"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Price was quite willing to go," said Lady Susanna.</p> + +<p>"I dare say. I trust he may be as willing to give up the land when +his lease is out. I have been told that he is a sporting friend of the +Dean's. It seems to me that you have, all of you, got into a nice +mess here by yourselves. All I want you to understand is that I +cannot now trouble myself about you."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to give us up," said the afflicted mother. "You'll +come and see me sometimes, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, if I am to be insulted by my sister."</p> + +<p>"I have insulted no one," said Lady Sarah, haughtily.</p> + +<p>"It was no insult to tell me that I ought to have stayed in Italy, +and not have come to my own house!"</p> + +<p>"Sarah, you ought not to have said that," exclaimed the Marchioness.</p> + +<p>"He complained that everything here was uncomfortable, and +therefore I said it. He knows that I did not speak of his return in +any other sense. Since he settled himself abroad there has not been +a day on which I have not wished that he would come back to his own +house and his own duties. If he will treat us properly, no one will +treat him with higher consideration than I. But we have our own +rights as well as he, and are as well able to guard them."</p> + +<p>"Sarah can preach as well as ever," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh! my children,—oh! my children!" sobbed the old lady.</p> + +<p>"I have had about enough of this. I knew what it would be when<!-- Page 139 --> +you wrote to me to come to you." Then he took up his hat, as though +he were going.</p> + +<p>"And am I to see nothing more of you?" asked his mother.</p> + +<p>"I will come to you, mother,—once a-week if you wish it. Every +Sunday afternoon will be as good a time as any other. But I will not +come unless I am assured of the absence of Lady Sarah. I will not +subject myself to her insolence, nor put myself in the way of being +annoyed by a ballyragging quarrel."</p> + +<p>"I and my sisters are always at Church on Sunday afternoons," +said Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>In this way the matter was arranged, and then the Marquis took +himself off. For some time after he left the room the Marchioness +sat in silence, sobbing now and again, and then burying her face in +her handkerchief. "I wish we had gone away when he told us," she +said, at last.</p> + +<p>"No, mamma," said her eldest daughter. "No,—certainly no. +Even though all this is very miserable, it is not so bad as running +away in order that we might be out of his way. No good can ever be +got by yielding in what is wrong to any one. This is your house; +and as yours it is ours."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes."</p> + +<p>"And here we can do something to justify our lives. We have a +work appointed to us which we are able to perform. What will his +wife do for the people here? Why are we not to say our prayers in +the Church which we all know and love? Why are we to leave Alice—and +Mary? Why should he, because he is the eldest of us,—he, +who for so many years has deserted the place,—why is he to tell us +where to live, and where not to live. He is rich, and we are poor, but +we have never been pensioners on his bounty. The park, I suppose, +is now closed to us; but I am prepared to live here in defiance of +him." This she said walking up and down the room as she spoke, +and she said it with so much energy that she absolutely carried her +sisters with her and again partly convinced her mother.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">THE MARQUIS AMONG HIS FRIENDS.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">There</span> was, of course, much perturbation of mind at Brotherton as +to what should be done on this occasion of the Marquis's return. Mr. +Knox had been consulted by persons in the town, and had given it +as his opinion that nothing should be done. Some of the tradesmen +and a few of the tenants living nearest to the town had suggested a<!-- Page 140 --> +triumphal entry,—green boughs, a bonfire, and fire works. This idea, +however, did not prevail long. The Marquis of Brotherton was +clearly not a man to be received with green boughs and bonfires. All +that soon died away. But there remained what may be called the +private difficulty. Many in Brotherton and around Brotherton had +of course known the man when he was young, and could hardly bring +themselves to take no notice of his return. One or two drove over +and simply left their cards. The bishop asked to see him, and was +told that he was out. Dr. Pountner did see him, catching him at his +own hall door, but the interview was very short, and not particularly +pleasant. "Dr. Pountner. Well; I do remember you, certainly. +But we have all grown older, you know."</p> + +<p>"I came," said the doctor, with a face redder than ever, "to +pay my respects to your Lordship, and to leave my card on your +wife."</p> + +<p>"We are much obliged to you,—very much obliged. Unfortunately +we are both invalids." Then the doctor, who had not got out of his +carriage, was driven home again. The doctor had been a great many +years at Brotherton, and had known the old Marquis well. "I don't +know what you and Holdenough will make of him," the doctor said +to the Dean. "I suppose you will both be driven into some communion +with him. I shan't try it again."</p> + +<p>The Dean and Canon Holdenough had been in consultation on the +subject, and had agreed that they would each of them act as though the +Marquis had been like any other gentleman, and his wife like any other +newly married lady. They were both now connected with the family, +and even bound to act on the presumption that there would be family +friendship. The Dean went on his errand first, and the Dean was +admitted into his sitting-room. This happened a day or two after the +scene at Cross Hall. "I don't know that I should have troubled you +so soon," said the Dean, "had not your brother married my daughter." +The Dean had thought over the matter carefully, making up his mind +how far he would be courteous to the man, and where he would make +a stand if it were necessary that he should make a stand at all. And +he had determined that he would ask after the new Lady Brotherton, +and speak of the child as Lord Popenjoy, the presumption being that +a man is married when he says so himself, and that his child is legitimate +when declared to be so. His present acknowledgment would +not bar any future proceedings.</p> + +<p>"There has been a good deal of marrying and giving in marriage +since I have been away," replied the Marquis.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed. There has been your brother, your sister, and last, +not least, yourself."</p> + +<p>"I was not thinking of myself. I meant among you here. The +church seems to carry everything before it."</p> + +<p>It seemed to the Dean, who was sufficiently mindful of his daughter's<!-- Page 141 --> +fortune, and who knew to a penny what was the very liberal income of +Canon Holdenough, that in these marriages the church had at least +given as much as it had got. "The church holds its own," said the +Dean, "and I hope that it always will. May I venture to express <a name="tn_pg_150"></a><!-- TN: second "a" deleted-->a +hope that the Marchioness is well."</p> + +<p>"Not very well."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry for that. Shall I not have the pleasure of seeing her +to-day?"</p> + +<p>The Marquis looked as though he were almost astounded at the impudence +of the proposition; but he replied to it by the excuse that he +had made before. "Unless you speak Italian I'm afraid you would +not get on very well with her."</p> + +<p>"She will not find that I have the Tuscan tongue or the Roman +mouth, but I have enough of the language to make myself perhaps +intelligible to her ladyship."</p> + +<p>"We will postpone it for the present, if you please, Mr. Dean."</p> + +<p>There was an insolence declared in the man's manner and almost +declared in his words, which made the Dean at once determine that he +would never again ask after the new Marchioness, and that he would +make no allusion whatever to the son. A man may say that his wife +is too unwell to receive strangers without implying that the wish to +see her should not have been expressed. The visitor bowed, and then +the two men both sat silent for some moments. "You have not seen +your brother since you have been back?" the Dean said at last.</p> + +<p>"I have not seen him. I don't know where he is, or anything about +him."</p> + +<p>"They live in London,—in Munster Court."</p> + +<p>"Very likely. He didn't consult me about his marriage, and I +don't know anything about his concerns."</p> + +<p>"He told you of it,—before it took place."</p> + +<p>"Very likely,—though I do not exactly see how that concerns you +and me."</p> + +<p>"You must be aware that he is married to—my daughter."</p> + +<p>"Quite so."</p> + +<p>"That would, generally, be supposed to give a common interest."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I dare say. You feel it so, no doubt. I am glad that you +are satisfied by an alliance with my family. You are anxious for me +to profess that it is reciprocal."</p> + +<p>"I am anxious for nothing of the kind," said the Dean, jumping up +from his chair. "I have nothing to get and nothing to lose by the +alliance. The usual courtesies of life are pleasant to me."</p> + +<p>"I wish that you would use them then on the present occasion by +being a little quieter."</p> + +<p>"Your brother has married a lady, and my daughter has married a +gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Yes; George is a great ass; in some respects the greatest ass I<!-- Page 142 --> +know; but he is a gentleman. Perhaps if you have anything else that +you wish to say you will do me the honour of sitting down."</p> + +<p>The Dean was so angry that he did not know how to contain himself. +The Marquis had snubbed him for coming. He had then justified +his visit by an allusion to the connection between them, and the +Marquis had replied to this by hinting that though a Dean might +think it a very fine thing to have his daughter married into the family +of a Marquis, the Marquis probably would not look at it in the same +light. And yet what was the truth? Whence had come the money +which had made the marriage possible? In the bargain between them +which party had had the best of it? He was conscious that it would +not become him to allude to the money, but his feeling on the subject +was very strong. "My lord," he said, "I do not know that there is +anything to be gained by my sitting down again."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not. I dare say you know best."</p> + +<p>"I came here intent on what I considered to be a courtesy due to +your lordship. I am sorry that my visit has been mistaken."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that there is anything to make a fuss about."</p> + +<p>"It shall not be repeated, my lord." And so he left the room.</p> + +<p>Why on earth had the man come back to England, bringing a +foreign woman and an Italian brat home with him, if he intended to +make the place too hot to hold him by insulting everybody around +him? This was the first question the Dean asked himself, when he +found himself outside the house. And what could the man hope to +gain by such insolence? Instead of taking the road through the park +back to Brotherton, he went on to Cross Hall. He was desirous of +learning what were the impressions, and what the intentions, of the +ladies there. Did this madman mean to quarrel with his mother and +sisters as well as with his other neighbours? He did not as yet know +what <a name="tn_pg_151"></a><!-- TN: original reads "intercouse"-->intercourse there had been between the two houses, since the +Marquis had been at Manor Cross. And in going to Cross Hall in the +midst of all these troubles, he was no doubt actuated in part by a +determination to show himself to be one of the family. If they would +accept his aid, no one would be more loyal than he to these ladies. +But he would not be laid aside. If anything unjust were intended, if +any fraud was to be executed, the person most to be injured would be +that hitherto unborn grandson of his for whose advent he was so +anxious. He had been very free with his money, but he meant to +have his money's worth.</p> + +<p>At Cross Hall he found Canon Holdenough's wife and the Canon. +At the moment of his entrance old Lady Brotherton was talking to +the clergyman, and Lady Alice was closeted in a corner with her +sister Sarah. "I would advise you to go just as though you had +heard nothing from us," Lady Sarah had said. "Of course he would +be readier to quarrel with me than with any one. For mamma's sake +I would go away for a time if I had anywhere to go to."<!-- Page 143 --></p> + +<p>"Come to us," Lady Alice had said. But Lady Sarah had declared +that she would be as much in the way at Brotherton as at +Cross Hall, and had then gone on to explain that it was Lady +Alice's duty to call on her sister-in-law, and that she must do so,—facing +the consequences whatever they might be. "Of course +mamma could not go till he had been here," Lady Sarah added; +"and now he has told mamma not to go at all. But that is nothing +to you."</p> + +<p>"I have just come from the house," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"Did you see him?" asked the old woman with awe.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I saw him."</p> + +<p>"Well!"</p> + +<p>"I must say that he was not very civil to me, and that I suppose +I have seen all of him that I shall see."</p> + +<p>"It is only his manner," said her ladyship.</p> + +<p>"An unfortunate manner, surely."</p> + +<p>"Poor Brotherton!"</p> + +<p>Then the Canon said a word. "Of course no one wants to trouble +him. I can speak at least for myself. I do not,—certainly. I have +requested her ladyship to ask him whether he would wish me to call +or not. If he says that he does, I shall expect him to receive me +cordially. If he does not—there's an end of it."</p> + +<p>"I hope you won't all of you turn against him," said the Marchioness.</p> + +<p>"Turn against him!" repeated the Dean. "I do not suppose that +there is any one who would not be both kind and courteous to him, if +he would accept kindness and courtesy. It grieves me to make you +unhappy, Marchioness, but I am bound to let you know that he +treated me very badly." From that moment the Marchioness made +up her mind that the Dean was no friend of the family, and that he +was, after all, vulgar and disagreeable. She undertook, however, to +enquire from her son on next Sunday whether he would wish to be +called upon by his brother-in-law, the Canon.</p> + +<p>On the following day Lady Alice went alone to Manor Cross,—being +the first lady who had gone to the door since the new arrivals,—and +asked for Lady Brotherton. The courier came to the door and +said "not at home," in a foreign accent, just as the words might have +been said to any chance caller in London. Then Lady Alice asked +the man to tell her brother that she was there. "Not at home, +miladi," said the man, in the same tone. At that moment Mrs. Toff +came running through the long hall to the carriage door. The house +was built round a quadrangle, and all the ground floor of the front +and of one of the sides consisted of halls, passages, and a billiard-room. +Mrs. Toff must have been watching very closely or she could hardly +have known that Lady Alice was there. She came out and stood +beside the carriage, and leaning in, whispered her fears and unhappi<!-- Page 144 -->nesses. +"Oh! my lady, I'm afraid it's very bad. I haven't set eyes +on the—the—his wife, my lady, yet; nor the little boy."</p> + +<p>"Are they in now, Mrs. Toff?"</p> + +<p>"Of course they're in. They never go out. He goes about all the +afternoon in a dressing-gown, smoking bits of paper, and she lies in +bed or gets up and doesn't do,—nothing at all, as far as I can see, +Lady Alice. But as for being in, of course they're in; they're always +in." Lady Alice, however, feeling that she had done her duty, and +not wishing to take the place by storm, had herself driven back to +Brotherton.</p> + +<p>On the following Sunday afternoon the Marquis came, according to +his promise, and found his mother alone. "The fact is, mother," he +said, "you have got a regular church set around you during the last +year or two, and I will have nothing to do with them. I never cared +much for Brotherton Close, and now I like it less than ever." The Marchioness +moaned and looked up into his face imploringly. She was +anxious to say something in defence, at any rate, of her daughter's +marriage, but specially anxious to say nothing that should not anger +him. Of course he was unreasonable, but, according to her lights, he, +being the Marquis, had a right to be unreasonable. "The Dean came +to me the other day," continued he, "and I could see at a glance that +he meant to be quite at home in the house, if I didn't put him down."</p> + +<p>"You'll see Mr. Holdenough, won't you? Mr. Holdenough is a +very gentlemanlike man, and the Holdenoughs were always quite +county people. You used to like Alice."</p> + +<p>"If you ask me, I think she has been a fool at her age to go and +marry an old parson. As for receiving him, I shan't receive anybody,—in +the way of entertaining them. I haven't come home for that +purpose. My child will have to live here when he is a man."</p> + +<p>"God bless him!" said the Marchioness.</p> + +<p>"Or at any rate his property will be here. They tell me that it +will be well that he should be used to this damnable climate early in +life. He will have to go to school here, and all that. So I have +brought him, though I hate the place."</p> + +<p>"It is so nice to have you back, Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about its being nice. I don't find much niceness in +it. Had I not got myself married I should never have come back. +But it's as well that you all should know that there is an heir."</p> + +<p>"God bless him!" said the Marchioness, again. "But don't you +think that we ought to see him?"</p> + +<p>"See him! Why?" He asked the question sharply, and looked +at her with that savageness in his eyes which all the family remembered +so well, and which she specially feared.</p> + +<p>That question of the legitimacy of the boy had never been distinctly +discussed at Cross Hall, and the suspicious hints on the subject which +had passed between the sisters, the allusions to this and the other<!-- Page 145 --> +possibility which had escaped them, had been kept as far as possible +from their mother. They had remarked among themselves that it was +very odd that the marriage should have been concealed, and almost +more than odd that an heir to the title should have been born without +any announcement of such a birth. A dread of some evil mystery had +filled their thoughts, and shown itself in their words and looks to each +other. And, though they had been very anxious to keep this from +their mother, something had crept through which had revealed a suspicion +of the suspicion even to her. She, dear old lady, had resolved +upon no line of conduct in the matter. She had conceived no project +of rebelling against her eldest daughter, or of being untrue to her +youngest son. But now that she was alone with her eldest son, with +the real undoubted Marquis, with him who would certainly be to her +more than all the world beside if he would only allow it, there did +come into her head an idea that she would put him on his guard.</p> + +<p>"Because,—because——"</p> + +<p>"Because what? Speak out, mother."</p> + +<p>"Because, perhaps they'll say that—that——"</p> + +<p>"What will they say?"</p> + +<p>"If they don't see him, they may think he isn't Popenjoy at all."</p> + +<p>"Oh! they'll think that, will they? How will seeing help them?"</p> + +<p>"It would be so nice to have him here, if it's only for a little," said +the Marchioness.</p> + +<p>"So that's it," he said, after a long pause. "That's George's game, +and the Dean's; I can understand."</p> + +<p>"No, no, no; not George," said the unhappy mother.</p> + +<p>"And Sarah, I dare say, is in a boat with them. I don't wonder +that they should choose to remain here and watch me."</p> + +<p>"I am sure George has never thought of such a thing."</p> + +<p>"George will think as his father-in-law bids him. George was +never very good at thinking for himself. So you fancy they'll be +more likely to accept the boy if they see him."</p> + +<p>"Seeing is believing, Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"There's something in that, to be sure. Perhaps they don't think +I've got a wife at all, because they haven't seen her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; they believe that."</p> + +<p>"How kind of them. Well, mother, you've let the cat out of +the bag."</p> + +<p>"Don't tell them that I said so."</p> + +<p>"No; I won't tell. Nor am I very much surprised. I thought +how it would be when I didn't announce it all in the old-fashioned +way. It's lucky that I have the certificated proof of the date of my +marriage, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"It's all right, of course. I never doubted it, Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"But all the others did. I knew there was something up when +George wasn't at home to meet me."<!-- Page 146 --></p> + +<p>"He is coming."</p> + +<p>"He may stay away if he likes it. I don't want him. He won't +have the courage to tell me up to my face that he doesn't intend to +acknowledge my boy. He's too great a coward for that."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it's not George, Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"Who is it, then?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it's the Dean."</p> + +<p>"D—— his impudence. How on earth among you could you let +George marry the daughter of a low-bred ruffian like that,—a man +that never ought to have been allowed to put his foot inside the +house?"</p> + +<p>"She had such a very nice fortune! And then he wanted to marry +that scheming girl, Adelaide De Baron,—without a penny."</p> + +<p>"The De Barons, at any rate, are gentlefolk. If the Dean meddles +with me, he shall find that he has got the wrong sow by the ear. If +he puts his foot in the park again I'll have him warned off as a +trespasser."</p> + +<p>"But you'll see Mr. Holdenough?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to see anybody. I mean to hold my own, and do as +I please with my own, and live as I like, and toady no one. What +can I have in common with an old parson like that?"</p> + +<p>"You'll let me see Popenjoy, Brotherton?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, pausing a moment before he answered her. "He +shall be brought here, and you shall see him. But mind, mother, I +shall expect you to tell me all that you hear."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I will."</p> + +<p>"You will not rebel against me, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no;—my son, my son!" Then she fell upon his neck, and he +suffered it for a minute, thinking it wise to make sure of one ally in +that house.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">THE MARQUIS SEES HIS BROTHER.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">When</span> Lord George was summoned down to Manor Cross,—or +rather, to Cross Hall, he did not dare not to go. Lady Sarah had +told him that it was his duty, and he could not deny the assertion. +But he was very angry with his brother, and did not in the least wish +to see him. Nor did he think that by seeing him he could in any +degree render easier that horrible task which would, sooner or later, +be imposed upon him, of testing the legitimacy of his brother's child. +And there were other reasons which made him unwilling to leave +London. He did not like to be away from his young wife. She was, of<!-- Page 147 --> +course, a matron now, and entitled to be left alone, according to the +laws of the world; but then she was so childish, and so fond of playing +bagatelle with Jack De Baron! He had never had occasion to +find fault with her; not to say words to her which he himself would +regard as fault-finding words though she had complained more than +once of his scolding her. He would caution her, beg her to be grave, +ask her to read heavy books, and try to impress her with the solemnity +of married life. In this way he would quell her spirits for a few +hours. Then she would burst out again, and there would be Jack +De Baron and the bagatelle. In all these sorrows he solaced himself +by asking advice from Mrs. Houghton. By degrees he told Mrs. +Houghton almost everything. The reader may remember that there +had been a moment in which he had resolved that he would not again +go to Berkeley Square. But all that was very much altered now. +He was there almost every day, and consulted the lady about every +thing. She had induced him even to talk quite openly about this +Italian boy, to express his suspicions, and to allude to most distressing +duties which might be incumbent on him. She strenuously +advised him to take nothing for granted. If the Marquisate was to +be had by careful scrutiny she was quite of opinion that it should not +be lost by careless confidence. This sort of friendship was very +pleasant to him, and especially so, because he could tell himself that +there was nothing wicked in it. No doubt her hand would be in his +sometimes for a moment, and once or twice his arm had almost found +its way round her waist. But these had been small deviations, which +he had taken care to check. No doubt it had occurred to him, once +or twice, that she had not been careful to check them. But this, +when he thought of it maturely, he attributed to innocence.</p> + +<p>It was at last, by her advice, that he begged that one of his sisters +might come up to town, as a companion to Mary during his absence +at Cross Hall. This counsel she had given to him after assuring him +half-a-dozen times that there was nothing to fear. He had named +Amelia, Mary having at once agreed to the arrangement, on condition +that the younger of the three sisters should be invited. The letter +was of course written to Lady Sarah. All such letters always were +written to Lady Sarah. Lady Sarah had answered, saying, that +Susanna would take the place destined for Amelia. Now Susanna, of +all the Germain family, was the one whom Mary disliked the most. +But there was no help for it. She thought it hard, but she was not +strong enough in her own position to say that she would not have +Susanna, because Susanna had not been asked. "I think Lady +Susanna will be the best," said Lord George, "because she has so +much strength of character."</p> + +<p>"Strength of character! You speak as if you were going away for +three years, and were leaving me in the midst of danger. You'll be +back in five days, I suppose. I really think I could have got on<!-- Page 148 --> +without Susanna's—strength of character!" This was her revenge; +but, all the same, Lady Susanna came.</p> + +<p>"She is as good as gold," said Lord George, who was himself as +weak as water. "She is as good as gold; but there is a young man +comes here whom I don't care for her to see too often." This was +what he said to Lady Susanna.</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed! Who is he?"</p> + +<p>"Captain De Baron. You are not to suppose that she cares a straw +about him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; I am sure there can be nothing of that," said Lady Susanna, +feeling herself to be as energetic as Cerberus, and as many-eyed +as Argus.</p> + +<p>"You must take care of yourself now, master Jack," Mrs. Houghton +said to her cousin. "A duenna has been sent for."</p> + +<p>"Duennas always go to sleep, don't they; and take tips; and are +generally open to reason?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, heavens! Fancy tipping Lady Susanna! I should think +that she never slept in her life with both eyes at the same time, and +that she thinks in her heart that every man who says a civil word +ought to have his tongue cut out."</p> + +<p>"I wonder how she'd take it if I were to say a civil word to herself?"</p> + +<p>"You can try; but as far as Madame is concerned, you had better +wait till Monsieur is back again."</p> + +<p>Lord George, having left his wife in the hands of Lady Susanna, +went down to Brotherton and on to Cross Hall. He arrived on +the Saturday after that first Sunday visit paid by the Marquis to +his mother. The early part of the past week had been very blank +down in those parts. No further personal attempts had been made to +intrude upon the Manor Cross mysteries. The Dean had not been +seen again, even at Cross Hall. Mr. Holdenough had made no attempt +after the reception,—or rather non-reception,—awarded to his +wife. Old Mr. De Baron had driven over, and had seen the Marquis, +but nothing more than that fact was known at Cross Hall. He had +been there for about an hour, and as far as Mrs. Toff knew, the Marquis +had been very civil to him. But Mr. De Baron, though a cousin, +was not by any means one of the Germain party. Then, on Saturday +there had been an affair. Mrs. Toff had come to the Hall, boiling +over with the importance of her communication, and stating that she +had been—turned out of the house. She, who had presided over +everything material at Manor Cross for more than thirty years, from +the family pictures down to the kitchen utensils, had been absolutely +desired to—walk herself off. The message had been given to her by +that accursed Courier, and she had then insisted on seeing the Marquis. +"My Lord," she said, only laughed at her. "'Mrs. Toff,' he had said, +'you are my mother's servant, and my sisters'. You had better go and +live with them.'" She had then hinted at the shortness of the notice<!-- Page 149 --> +given her, upon which he had offered her anything she chose to ask in +the way of wages and board wages. "But I wouldn't take a penny, +my Lady; only just what was due up to the very day." As Mrs. Toff +was a great deal too old a servant to be really turned away, and as she +merely migrated from Manor Cross to Cross Hall, she did not injure +herself much by refusing the offers made to her.</p> + +<p>It must be held that the Marquis was justified in getting rid of Mrs. +Toff. Mrs. Toff was, in truth, a spy in his camp, and, of course, his +own people were soon aware of that fact. Her almost daily journeys +to Cross Hall were known, and it was remembered, both by the +Marquis and his wife, that this old woman, who had never been +allowed to see the child, but who had known all the preceding generation +as children, could not but be an enemy. Of course it was patent +to all the servants, and to every one connected with the two houses, +that there was war. Of course, the Marquis, having an old woman +acting spy in his stronghold, got rid of her. But justice would shortly +have required that the other old woman, who was acting spy in the +other stronghold, should be turned out, also. But the Marchioness, +who had promised to tell everything to her son, could not very well be +offered wages and be made to go.</p> + +<p>In the midst of the ferment occasioned by this last piece of work +Lord George reached Cross Hall. He had driven through the park, +that way being nearly as short as the high road, and had left word at +the house that he would call on the following morning, immediately +after morning church. This he did, in consequence of a resolution +which he had made,—to act on his own judgment. A terrible crisis +was coming, in which it would not be becoming that he should submit +himself either to his eldest sister, or to the Dean. He had talked the +matter over fully with Mrs. Houghton, and Mrs. Houghton had suggested +that he should call on his way out to the Hall.</p> + +<p>The ladies had at first to justify their request that he should come +to them, and there was a difficulty in doing this, as he was received in +presence of their mother. Lady Sarah had not probably told herself +that the Marchioness was a spy, but she had perceived that it would +not be wise to discuss everything openly in her mother's presence. +"It is quite right that you should see him," said Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>"Quite right," said the old lady.</p> + +<p>"Had he sent me even a message I should have been here, of +course," said the brother. "He passed through London, and I would +have met him there had he not kept everything concealed."</p> + +<p>"He isn't like anybody else, you know. You <a name="tn_pg_158"></a><!-- TN: original reads "musn't"-->mustn't quarrel with +him. He is the head of the family. If we quarrel with him, what will +become of us?"</p> + +<p>"What will become of him if everybody falls off from him. That's +what I am thinking of," said Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>Soon after this all the horrors that had taken place,—horrors which<!-- Page 150 --> +could not be entrusted to a letter,—were narrated him. The Marquis +had insulted Dr. Pountner, he had not returned the Bishop's visit, he +had treated the Dean with violent insolence, and he had refused to +receive his brother-in-law, Mr. Holdenough, though the Holdenoughs +had always moved in county society! He had declared that none of +his relatives were to be introduced to his wife. He had not as yet +allowed the so-called Popenjoy to be seen. He had said none of +them were to trouble him at Manor Cross, and had explained his +purpose, of only coming to the Hall when he knew that his sister Sarah +was away. "I think he must be mad," said the younger brother.</p> + +<p>"It is what comes of living in a godless country like Italy," said +Lady Amelia.</p> + +<p>"It is what comes of utterly disregarding duty," said Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>But what was to be done? The Marquis had declared his purpose +of doing what he liked with his own, and certainly none of them +could hinder him. If he chose to shut himself and his wife up at the +big house, he must do so. It was very bad, but it was clear that they +could not interfere with his eccentricities. How was anybody to interfere? +Of course, there was present in the mind of each of them a +feeling that this woman might not be his wife, or that the child might +not be legitimate. But they did not like with open words among +themselves to accuse their brother of so great a crime. "I don't see +what there is to be done," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>The Church was in the park, not very far from the house, but +nearer to the gate leading to Brotherton. On that Sunday morning +the Marchioness and her youngest daughter went there in the carriage, +and in doing so, had to pass the front doors. The previous Sunday +had been cold, and this was the first time that the Marchioness had +seen Manor Cross since her son had been there. "Oh, dear! if I +could only go in and see the dear child," she said.</p> + +<p>"You know you can't, mamma," said Amelia.</p> + +<p>"It is all Sarah's fault, because she would quarrel with him."</p> + +<p>After Church the ladies returned in the carriage, and Lord George +went to the house according to his appointment. He was shown into +a small parlour, and in about half an hour's time luncheon was brought +to him. He then asked whether his brother was coming. The servant +went away, promising to enquire, but did not return. He was cross +and would eat no lunch,—but after awhile rang the bell, loudly, and +again asked the same question. The servant again went away and did +not return. He had just made up his mind to leave the house and +never to return to it, when the Courier, of whom he had heard, came +to usher him into his brother's room. "You seem to be in a deuce of +a hurry, George," said the Marquis, without getting out of his chair. +"You forget that people don't get up at the same hour all the world +over."</p> + +<p>"It's half-past two now."<!-- Page 151 --></p> + +<p>"Very likely; but I don't know that there is any law to make a +man dress himself before that hour."</p> + +<p>"The servant might have given me a message."</p> + +<p>"Don't make a row now you are here, old fellow. When I found +you were in the house I got down as fast as I could. I suppose your +time isn't so very precious."</p> + +<p>Lord George had come there determined not to quarrel if he could +help it. He had very nearly quarrelled already. Every word that his +brother said was in truth an insult,—being, as they were, the first +words spoken after so long an interval. They were intended to be +insolent, probably intended to drive him away. But if anything was +to be gained by the interview he must not allow himself to be driven +away. He had a duty to perform,—a great duty. He was the last +man in England to suspect a fictitious heir,—would at any rate be the +last to hint at such an iniquity without the strongest ground. Who +is to be true to a brother if not a brother? Who is to support the +honour of a great family if not its own scions? Who is to abstain +from wasting the wealth and honour of another, if not he who has the +nearest chance of possessing them? And yet who could be so manifestly +bound as he to take care that no surreptitious head was imposed +upon the family. This little child was either the real Popenjoy, a boy to +be held by him as of all boys the most sacred, to the promotion of whose +welfare all his own energies would be due,—or else a brat so abnormously +distasteful and abominable as to demand from him an undying +enmity, till the child's wicked pretensions should be laid at rest. +There was something very serious in it, very tragic,—something which +demanded that he should lay aside all common anger, and put up with +many insults on behalf of the cause which he had in hand. "Of +course I could wait," said he; "only I thought that perhaps the man +would have told me."</p> + +<p>"The fact is, George, we are rather a divided house here. Some of +us talk Italian and some English. I am the only common interpreter +in the house, and I find it a bore."</p> + +<p>"I dare say it is troublesome."</p> + +<p>"And what can I do for you now you are here?"</p> + +<p>Do for him! Lord George didn't want his brother to do anything +for him. "Live decently, like an English nobleman, and do not outrage +your family." That would have been the only true answer he +could have made to such a question. "I thought you would wish to +see me after your return," he said.</p> + +<p>"It's rather lately thought of; but, however, let that pass. So +you've got a wife for yourself."</p> + +<p>"As you have done also."</p> + +<p>"Just so. I have got a wife too. Mine has come from one of the +oldest and noblest families in Christendom."</p> + +<p>"Mine is the granddaughter of a livery-stable keeper," said Lord<!-- Page 152 --> +George, with a touch of real grandeur; "and, thank God, I can be +proud of her in any society in England."</p> + +<p>"I dare say;—particularly as she had some money."</p> + +<p>"Yes; she had money. I could hardly have married without. But +when you see her I think you will not be ashamed of her as your +sister-in-law."</p> + +<p>"Ah! She lives in London and I am just at present down here."</p> + +<p>"She is the daughter of the Dean of Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"So I have heard. They used to make gentlemen Deans." After +this there was a pause, Lord George finding it difficult to go on with +the conversation without a quarrel. "To tell you the truth, George, +I will not willingly see anything more of your Dean. He came here +and insulted me. He got up and blustered about the room because I +wouldn't thank him for the honour he had done our family by his +alliance. If you please, George, we'll understand that the less said +about the Dean the better. You see I haven't any of the money out +of the stable-yard."</p> + +<p>"My wife's money didn't come out of a stable-yard. It came from +a wax-chandler's shop," said Lord George, jumping up, just as the +Dean had done. There was something in the man's manner worse +even than his words which he found it almost impossible to bear. +But he seated himself again as his brother sat looking at him with a +bitter smile upon his face. "I don't suppose," he said, "you can +wish to annoy me."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. But I wish that the truth should be understood +between us."</p> + +<p>"Am I to be allowed to pay my respects to your wife?" said Lord +George boldly.</p> + +<p>"I think, you know, that we have gone so far apart in our marriages +that there is nothing to be gained by it. Besides, you couldn't speak +to her,—nor she to you."</p> + +<p>"May I be permitted to see—Popenjoy?"</p> + +<p>The Marquis paused a moment, and then rang the bell. "I don't +know what good it will do you, but if he can be made fit he shall be +brought down." The Courier entered the room and received certain +orders in Italian. After that there was considerable delay, during +which an Italian servant brought the Marquis a cup of chocolate and a +cake. He pushed a newspaper over to his brother, and as he was +drinking his chocolate, lighted a cigarette. In this way there was a +delay of over an hour, and then there entered the room an Italian +nurse with a little boy who seemed to Lord George to be nearly two +years old. The child was carried in by the woman, but Lord George +thought that he was big enough to have walked. He was dressed up +with many ribbons, and was altogether as gay as apparel could make +him. But he was an ugly, swarthy little boy, with great black eyes, +small cheeks, and a high forehead,—very unlike such a Popenjoy as<!-- Page 153 --> +Lord George would have liked to have seen. Lord George got up and +stood over him, and leaning down kissed the high forehead. "My +poor little darling," he said.</p> + +<p>"As for being poor," said the Marquis, "I hope not. As to being +a darling, I should think it doubtful. If you've done with him, she +can take him away, you know." Lord George had done with him, and +so he was taken away. "Seeing is believing, you know," said the +Marquis; "that's the only good of it." Lord George said to himself +that in this case seeing was not believing.</p> + +<p>At this moment the open carriage came round to the door. "If you +like to get up behind," said the Marquis, "I can take you back to +Cross Hall, as I am going to see my mother. Perhaps you'll remember +that I wish to be alone with her." Lord George then expressed his +preference for walking. "Just as you please. I want to say a word. +Of course I took it very ill of you all when you insisted on keeping +Cross Hall in opposition to my wishes. No doubt they acted on your +advice."</p> + +<p>"Partly so."</p> + +<p>"Exactly; your's and Sarah's. You can't expect me to forget it, +George;—that's all." Then he walked out of the room among the +servants, giving his brother no opportunity for further reply.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">THE MARQUIS GOES INTO BROTHERTON.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> poor dear old Marchioness must have had some feeling that she +was regarded as a spy. She had promised to tell everything to her +eldest son, and though she had really nothing to tell, though the +Marquis did in truth know all that there was as yet to know, still +there grew up at Cross Hall a sort of severance between the unhappy +old lady and her children. This showed itself in no diminution of +affectionate attention; in no intentional change of manner; but there +was a reticence about the Marquis and Popenjoy which even she perceived, +and there crept into her mind a feeling that Mrs. Toff was on +her guard against her,—so that on two occasions she almost snubbed +Mrs. Toff. "I never see'd him, my Lady; what more can I say?" +said Mrs. Toff. "Toff, I don't believe you wanted to see your master's +son and heir!" said the Marchioness. Then Mrs. Toff pursed up her +lips, and compressed her nose, and half-closed her eyes, and the +Marchioness was sure that Mrs. Toff did not believe in Popenjoy.</p> + +<p>No one but Lord George had seen Popenjoy. To no eyes but his +had the august baby been displayed. Of course many questions had +been asked, especially by the old lady, but the answers to them had not<!-- Page 154 --> +been satisfactory. "Dark, is he?" asked the Marchioness. <a name="tn_pg_163"></a><!-- TN: comma removed after "Lord George"-->Lord +George replied that the child was very swarthy. "Dear me! That +isn't like the Germains. The Germains were never light, but they're +not swarthy. Did he talk at all?" "Not a word." "Did he play +about?" "Never was out of the nurse's arms." "Dear me! Was +he like Brotherton?" "I don't think I am a judge of likenesses." +"He's a healthy child?" "I can't say. He seemed to be a good +deal done up with finery." Then the Marchioness declared that her +younger son showed an unnatural indifference to the heir of the family. +It was manifest that she intended to accept the new Popenjoy, and to +ally herself with no party base enough to entertain any suspicion.</p> + +<p>These examinations respecting the baby went on for the three first +days of the week. It was Lord George's intention to return to town +on the Saturday, and it seemed to them all to be necessary that something +should be arranged before that. Lady Sarah thought that direct +application should be made to her brother for proof of his marriage +and for a copy of the register of the birth of his child. She quite +admitted that he would resent such application with the bitterest +enmity. But that she thought must be endured. She argued that +nothing could be done more friendly to the child than this. If all +was right the enquiry which circumstances certainly demanded would +be made while he could not feel it. If no such proof were adduced +now there would certainly be trouble, misery, and perhaps ruin in +coming years. If the necessary evidence were forthcoming, then no +one would wish to interfere further. There might be ill blood on +their brother's part, but there would be none on theirs. Neither Lord +George nor their younger sister gainsayed this altogether. Neither of +them denied the necessity of enquiry. But they desired to temporise;—and +then how was the enquiry to be made? Who was to bell the +cat? And how should they go on when the Marquis refused to take +any heed of them,—as, of course, he would do? Lady Sarah saw at +once that they must employ a lawyer;—but what lawyer? Old Mr. +Stokes, the family attorney, was the only lawyer they knew. But Mr. +Stokes was Lord Brotherton's lawyer, and would hardly consent to be +employed against his own client. Lady Sarah suggested that Mr. +Stokes might be induced to explain to the Marquis that these enquiries +should be made for his, the Marquis's, own benefit. But Lord George +felt that this was impossible. It was evident that Lord George would +be afraid to ask Mr. Stokes to undertake the work.</p> + +<p>At last it came to be understood among them that they must have +some friend to act with them. There could be no doubt who that +friend should be. "As to interfering," said Lady Sarah, speaking of +the Dean, "he will interfere, whether we ask him to or not. His +daughter is as much affected as anybody, and if I understand him he +is not the man to see any interest of his own injured by want of care." +Lord George shook his head but yielded. He greatly disliked the<!-- Page 155 --> +idea of putting himself into the Dean's hands; of becoming a creature +of the Dean's. He felt the Dean to be stronger than himself, endowed +with higher spirit and more confident hopes. But he also felt that the +Dean was—the son of a stable-keeper. Though he had professed to +his brother that he could own the fact without shame, still he was +ashamed. It was not the Dean's parentage that troubled him so much +as a consciousness of some defect, perhaps only of the absence of some +quality, which had been caused by that parentage. The man looked +like a gentleman, but still there was a smell of the stable. Feeling +this rather than knowing it Lord George resisted for awhile the idea of +joining forces with the Dean; but when it was suggested to him as an +alternative that he himself must go to Mr. Stokes and explain his +suspicions in the lawyer's room, then he agreed that, as a first step, he +would consult the Dean. The Dean, no doubt, would have his own +lawyer, who would not care a fig for the Marquis.</p> + +<p>It was thought by them at Cross Hall that the Dean would come +over to them, knowing that his son-in-law was in the country; but +the Dean did not come, probably waiting for the same compliment +from Lord George. On the Friday Lord George rode into Brotherton +early, and was at the Deanery by eleven o'clock. "I thought I should +see you," said the Dean, in his pleasantest manner. "Of course, I +heard from Mary that you were down here. Well;—what do you +think of it all?"</p> + +<p>"It is not pleasant."</p> + +<p>"If you mean your brother, I am bound to say, that he is very +unpleasant. Of course you have seen him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I have seen him."</p> + +<p>"And her ladyship?"</p> + +<p>"No. He said that as I do not speak Italian it would be no good."</p> + +<p>"And he seemed to think," said the Dean, "that as I do speak +Italian it would be dangerous. Nobody has seen her then?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody."</p> + +<p>"That promises well! And the little lord?"</p> + +<p>"He was brought down to me."</p> + +<p>"That was gracious! Well; what of him. Did he look like a +Popenjoy?"</p> + +<p>"He is a nasty little black thing."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't wonder."</p> + +<p>"And looks——. Well, I don't want to abuse the poor child, and +God knows, if he is what he pretends to be, I would do anything to +serve him."</p> + +<p>"That's just it, George," said the Dean, very seriously,—seriously, +and with his kindest manner, being quite disposed to make himself +agreeable to Lord George, if Lord George would be agreeable to him. +"That's just it. If we were certified as to that, what would we not +do for the child in spite of the father's brutality? There is no dis<!-- Page 156 -->honesty on our side, George. You know of me, and I know of you, +that if every tittle of the evidence of that child's birth were in the +keeping of either of us, so that it could be destroyed on the moment, +it should be made as public as the winds of heaven to-morrow, so that +it was true evidence. If he be what he pretends to be, who would +interfere with him? But if he be not?"</p> + +<p>"Any suspicion of that kind is unworthy of us;—except on very +strong ground."</p> + +<p>"True. But if there be very strong ground, it is equally true that +such suspicion is our duty. Look at the case. When was it that he +told you that he was going to be married? About six months since, +as far as my memory goes."</p> + +<p>"He said, 'I am to be married.'"</p> + +<p>"That is speaking in the future tense; and now he claims to have +been married two or three years ago. Has he ever attempted to +explain this?"</p> + +<p>"He has not said a word about it. He is quite unwilling to talk +about himself."</p> + +<p>"I dare say. But a man in such circumstances must be made to +talk about himself. You and I are so placed that if we did not make +him talk about himself, we ought to be made to make him do so. He +may be deceitful if he pleases. He may tell you and me fibs without +end. And he may give us much trouble by doing so. Such trouble +is the evil consequence of having liars in the world." Lord George +winced at the rough word as applied by inference to his own brother. +"But liars themselves are always troubled by their own lies. If he +chooses to tell you that on a certain day he is about to be married, +and afterwards springs a two-year old child upon you as legitimate, +you are bound to think that there is some deceit. You cannot keep +yourself from knowing that there is falsehood; and if falsehood, then +probably fraud. Is it likely that a man with such privileges, and +such property insured to a legitimate son, would allow the birth of +such a child to be slurred over without due notice of it? You say that +suspicion on our part without strong ground would be unworthy of +us. I agree with you. But I ask you whether the grounds are not +so strong as to force us to suspect. Come," he continued, as Lord +George did not answer at once; "let us be open to each other, +knowing as each does that the other means to do what is right. Do +not you suspect?"</p> + +<p>"I do," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"And so do I. And I mean to learn the truth."</p> + +<p>"But how?"</p> + +<p>"That is for us to consider; but of one thing I am quite sure. I +am quite certain that we must not allow ourselves to be afraid of your +brother. To speak the truth, as it must be spoken, he is a bully, +George."<!-- Page 157 --></p> + +<p>"I would rather you would not abuse him, sir."</p> + +<p>"Speak ill of him I must. His character is bad, and I have to +speak of it. He is a bully. He set himself to work to put me down +when I did myself the honour to call on him, because he felt that my +connexion with you would probably make me an enemy to him. I +intend that he shall know that he cannot put me down. He is undoubtedly +Lord Brotherton. He is the owner of a wide property. +He has many privileges and much power, with which I cannot +interfere. But there is a limit to them. If he have a legitimate son, +those privileges will be that son's property, but he has to show to the +world that that son is legitimate. When a man marries before all +the world, in his own house, and a child is born to him as I may +say openly, the proofs are there of themselves. No bringing up of +evidence is necessary. The thing is simple, and there is no suspicion +and no enquiry. But he has done the reverse of this, and +now flatters himself that he can cow those who are concerned by a +domineering manner. He must be made to feel that this will not +prevail."</p> + +<p>"Sarah thinks that he should be invited to produce the necessary +certificates." Lord George, when he dropped his sister's title in +speaking of her to the Dean, must have determined that very familiar +intercourse with the Dean was a necessity.</p> + +<p>"Lady Sarah is always right. That should be the first step. +But will you invite him to do so? How shall the matter be broken +to him?"</p> + +<p>"She thinks a lawyer should do it."</p> + +<p>"It must be done either by you or by a lawyer." Lord George +looked very blank. "Of course, if the matter were left in my +hands;—if I had to do it,—I should not do it personally. The +question is, whether you might not in the first instance write to +him?"</p> + +<p>"He would not notice it."</p> + +<p>"Very likely not. Then we must employ a lawyer."</p> + +<p>The matter was altogether so distasteful to Lord George, that more +than once during the interview he almost made up his mind that he +would withdraw altogether from the work, and at any rate appear to +take it for granted that the child was a real heir, an undoubted Popenjoy. +But then, as often, the Dean showed him that he could not +so withdraw himself. "You will be driven," said the Dean, "to +express your belief, whatever it may be; and if you think that there +has been foul play, you cannot deny that you think so." It was at +last decided that Lord George should write a letter to his brother, +giving all the grounds, not of his own suspicion, but which the world +at large would have for suspecting; and earnestly imploring that +proper evidence as to his brother's marriage and as to the child's +birth, might be produced. Then, if this letter should not be attended<!-- Page 158 --> +to, a lawyer should be employed. The Dean named his own lawyer, +Mr. Battle, of Lincoln's Inn Fields. Lord George having once +yielded, found it convenient to yield throughout. Towards the end +of the interview the Dean suggested that he would "throw a few +words together," or, in other language, write the letter which his +son-in-law would have to sign. This suggestion was also accepted by +Lord George.</p> + +<p>The two men were together for a couple of hours, and then, after +lunch, went out together into the town. Each felt that he was now +more closely bound to the other than ever. The Dean was thoroughly +pleased that it should be so. He intended his son-in-law to be the +Marquis, and being sanguine as well as pugnacious looked forward +to seeing that time himself. Such a man as the Marquis would probably +die early, whereas he himself was full of health. There was +nothing he would not do to make Lord George's life pleasant, if only +Lord George would be pleasant to him, and submissive. But Lord +George himself was laden with many regrets. He had formed a conspiracy +against the head of his own family, and his brother conspirator +was the son of a stable-keeper. It might be also that he was +conspiring against his own legitimate nephew; and if so, the conspiracy +would of course fail, and he would be stigmatised for ever +among the Germains as the most sordid and vile of the name.</p> + +<p>The Dean's house was in the Close, joined on to the Cathedral, a +covered stone pathway running between the two. The nearest way +from the Deanery to the High Street was through the Cathedral, the +transept of which could be entered by crossing the passage. The +Dean and his son-in-law on this occasion went through the building +to the west entrance, and there stood for a few minutes in the street +while the Dean spoke to men who were engaged on certain repairs of +the fabric. In doing this they all went out into the middle of the +wide street in order that they might look up at the work which was +being done. While they were there, suddenly an open carriage, with +a postilion, came upon them unawares, and they had to retreat out of +the way. As they did so they perceived that Lord Brotherton was +in the carriage, enveloped in furs, and that a lady, more closely enveloped +even than himself, was by his side. It was evident to them +that he had recognised them. Indeed he had been in the act of +raising his hand to greet his brother when he saw the Dean. They +both bowed to him, while the Dean, who had the readier mind, raised +his hat to the lady. But the Marquis steadily ignored them. "That's +your sister-in-law," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so."</p> + +<p>"There is no other lady here with whom he could be driving. I +am pretty sure that it is the first time that either of them have been +in Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"I wonder whether he saw us."<!-- Page 159 --></p> + +<p>"Of course he saw us. He cut me from fixed purpose, and you +because I was with you. I shall not disturb him by any further +recognition." Then they went on about their business, and in the +afternoon, when the Dean had thrown his few words together, Lord +George rode back to Cross Hall. "Let the letter be sent at once,—but +date it from London." These were the last words the Dean said +to him.</p> + +<p>It was the Marquis and his wife. All Brotherton heard the news. +She had absolutely called at a certain shop and the Marquis had +condescended to be her interpreter. All Brotherton was now sure +that there was a new Marchioness, a fact as to which a great part of +Brotherton had hitherto entertained doubts. And it seemed that this +act of condescension in stopping at a Brotherton shop was so much +appreciated that all the former faults of the Marquis were to be condoned +on that account. If only Popenjoy could be taken to a +Brotherton pastrycook, and be got to eat a Brotherton bun, the +Marquis would become the most popular man in the neighbourhood, +and the undoubted progenitor of a long line of Marquises to come. +A little kindness after continued cruelty will always win a dog's +heart;—some say, also a woman's. It certainly seemed to be the way +to win Brotherton.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">LADY SUSANNA IN LONDON.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">In</span> spite of the caution which he had received from his friend and +cousin Mrs. Houghton, Jack De Baron did go to Munster Court during +the absence of Lord George, and there did encounter Lady Susanna. +And Mrs. Houghton herself, though she had given such excellent +advice, accompanied him. She was of course anxious to see Lady +Susanna, who had always especially disliked her; and Jack himself +was desirous of making the acquaintance of a lady who had been, +he was assured, sent up to town on purpose to protect the young wife +from his wiles. Both Mrs. Houghton and Jack had become very +intimate in Munster Court, and there was nothing strange in their +dropping in together even before lunch. Jack was of course introduced +to Lady Susanna. The two ladies grimaced at each other, each +knowing the other's feeling towards herself. Mary having suspected +that Lady Susanna had been sent for in reference to this special friend, +determined on being specially gracious to Jack. She had already, +since Lady Susanna's arrival, told that lady that she was able to +manage her own little affairs. Lady Susanna had said an unfortunate<!-- Page 160 --> +word as to the unnecessary expense of four wax candles when they +two were sitting alone in the drawing-room. Lady George had said +that it was pretty. Lady Susanna had expostulated gravely, and then +Lady George had spoken out. "Dear Susanna, do let me manage my +own little affairs." Of course the words had rankled, and of course +the love which the ladies bore to each other had not been increased. +Lady George was now quite resolved to show dear Susanna that she +was not afraid of her duenna.</p> + +<p>"We thought we'd venture to see if you'd give us lunch," said Mrs. +Houghton.</p> + +<p>"Delightful!" exclaimed Lady George. "There's nothing to eat; +but you won't mind that."</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," said Jack. "I always think the best lunch in +the world is a bit of the servants' dinner. It's always the best meat, +and the best cooked and the hottest served."</p> + +<p>There was plenty of lunch from whatsoever source it came, and the +three young people were very merry. Perhaps they were a little +noisy. Perhaps there was a little innocent slang in their conversation. +Ladies do sometimes talk slang, and perhaps the slang was encouraged +for the special edification of Lady Susanna. But slang was never +talked at Manor Cross or Cross Hall, and was odious to Lady Susanna. +When Lady George declared that some offending old lady ought to be +"jumped upon," Lady Susanna winced visibly. When Jack told +Lady George that "she was the woman to do it," Lady Susanna +shivered almost audibly. "Is anything the matter?" asked Lady +George, perhaps not quite innocently.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Lady Susanna that these visitors were never going away, +and yet this was the very man as to whom her brother had cautioned +her! And what an odious man he was—in Lady Susanna's estimation! +A puppy,—an absolute puppy! Good-looking, impudent, familiar, +with a light visage, and continually smiling! All those little gifts +which made him so pleasant to Lady George were stains and blemishes +in the eyes of Lady Susanna. To her thinking, a man,—at any rate a +gentleman,—should be tall, dark, grave, and given to silence rather +than to much talk. This Jack chattered about everything, and hardly +opened his mouth without speaking slang. About half-past three, +when they had been chattering in the drawing-room for an hour, after +having chattered over their lunch for a previous hour, Mrs. Houghton +made a most alarming proposition. "Let us all go to Berkeley +Square and play bagatelle."</p> + +<p>"By all means," said Jack. "Lady George, you owe me two new +hats already."</p> + +<p>Playing bagatelle for new hats! Lady Susanna felt that if ever +there could come a time in which interference would be necessary that +time had come now. She had resolved that she would be patient; +that she should not come down as an offended deity upon Lady George,<!-- Page 161 --> +unless some sufficient crisis should justify such action. But now +surely, if ever, she must interpose. Playing at bagatelle with Jack +De Baron for new hats, and she with the prospect before her of being +Marchioness of Brotherton! "It's only one," said Lady George +gaily, "and I daresay I'll win that back to-day. Will you come, +Susanna?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," said Lady Susanna, very grimly. They all looked +at her, and Jack De Baron raised his eyebrows, and sat for a moment +motionless. Lady Susanna knew that Jack De Baron was intending +to ridicule her. Then she remembered that should this perverse young +woman insist upon going to Mrs. Houghton's house with so objectionable +a companion, her duty to her brother demanded that she also +should go. "I mean," said Lady Susanna, "that I had rather not +go."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" asked Mary.</p> + +<p>"I do not think that playing bagatelle for new hats is—is—the best +employment in the world either for a lady or for a gentleman." The +words were hardly out of her mouth before she herself felt that they +were overstrained and more than even this occasion demanded.</p> + +<p>"Then we will only play for gloves," said Mary. Mary was not a +woman to bear with impunity such an assault as had been made +on her.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you will not mind giving it up till George comes back," +said Lord George's sister.</p> + +<p>"I shall mind very much. I will go up and get ready. You can +do as you please." So Mary left the room, and Lady Susanna followed +her.</p> + +<p>"She means to have her own way," said Jack, when he was alone +with his cousin.</p> + +<p>"She is not at all what I took her to be," said Mrs. Houghton. +"The fact is, one cannot know what a girl is as long as a girl is a girl. +It is only when she's married that she begins to speak out." Jack +hardly agreed with this, thinking that some girls he had known had +learned to speak out before they were married.</p> + +<p>They all went out together to walk across the parks to Berkeley +Square, orders being left that the brougham should follow them later +in the afternoon. Lady Susanna had at last resolved that she also +would go. The very fact of her entering Mrs. Houghton's house was +disagreeable to her; but she felt that duty called her. And, after all, +when they got to Berkeley Square no bagatelle was played at all. But +the bagatelle would almost have been better than what occurred. A +small parcel was lying on the table which was found to contain a pack +of pictured cards made for the telling of fortunes, and which some +acquaintance had sent to Mrs. Houghton. With these they began +telling each other's fortunes, and it seemed to Lady Susanna that they +were all as free with lovers and sweethearts as though the two ladies<!-- Page 162 --> +had been housemaids instead of being the wives of steady, well-born +husbands. "That's a dark man, with evil designs, a wicked tongue, +and no money," said Mrs. Houghton, as a combination of cards lay +in Lady George's lap. "Jack, the lady with light hair is only flirting +with you. She doesn't care for you one bit."</p> + +<p>"I daresay not," said Jack.</p> + +<p>"And yet she'll trouble you awfully. Lady Susanna, will you have +your fortune told?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Lady Susanna, very shortly.</p> + +<p>This went on for an hour before the brougham came, during the +latter half of which Lady Susanna sat without once opening her lips. +If any play could have been childish, it was this play; but to her it +was horrible. And then they all sat so near together, and that man +was allowed to put cards into her brother's wife's hand and to take +them out just as though they had been brother and sister, or playfellows +all their days. And then, as they were going down to the +brougham, the odious man got Lady George aside and whispered to +her for two minutes. Lady Susanna did not hear a word of their +whispers, but knew that they were devilish. And so she would have +thought if she had heard them. "You're going to catch it, Lady +George," Jack had said. "There's somebody else will catch something +if she makes herself disagreeable," Lady George had answered. +"I wish I could be invisible and hear it," had been Jack's last words.</p> + +<p>"My dear Mary," said Lady Susanna, as soon as they were seated, +"you are very young."</p> + +<p>"That's a fault that will mend of itself."</p> + +<p>"Too quickly, as you will soon find; but in the meantime, as you +are a married woman, should you not be careful to guard against the +indiscretions of youth?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; I suppose I ought," said Mary, after a moment of mock +consideration. "But then if I were unmarried I ought to do just the +same. It's a kind of thing that is a matter of course without talking +about it." She had firmly made up her mind that she would submit +in no degree to Lady Susanna, and take from her no scolding. Indeed, +she had come to a firm resolve long since that she would be scolded +by no one but her husband—and by him as little as possible. Now +she was angry with him because he had sent this woman to watch her, +and was determined that he should know that, though she would +submit to him, she would not submit to his sister. The moment for +asserting herself had now come.</p> + +<p>"A young married woman," said the duenna, "owes it to her +husband to be peculiarly careful. She has his happiness and his +honour in her hands."</p> + +<p>"And he has hers. It seems to me that all these things are matters +of course."</p> + +<p>"They should be, certainly," said Lady Susanna, hardly knowing<!-- Page 163 --> +how to go on with her work; a little afraid of her companion, but still +very intent. "But it will sometimes happen that a young person does +not quite know what is right and what is wrong."</p> + +<p>"And sometimes it happens that old people don't know. There was +Major Jones had his wife taken away from him the other day by the +Court because he was always beating her, and he was fifty. I read all +about it in the papers. I think the old people are just as bad as the +young."</p> + +<p>Lady Susanna felt that her approaches were being cut off from her, +and that she must rush at once against the citadel if she meant to take +it. "Do you think that playing bagatelle is—nice?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do;—very nice."</p> + +<p>"Do you think George would like your playing with Captain De +Baron?"</p> + +<p>"Why not with Captain de Baron?" said Mary, turning round upon +her assailant with absolute ferocity.</p> + +<p>"I don't think he would like it. And then that fortune-telling! If +you will believe me, Mary, it was very improper."</p> + +<p>"I will not believe anything of the kind. Improper!—a joke about +a lot of picture-cards!"</p> + +<p>"It was all about love and lovers," said Lady Susanna, not quite +knowing how to express herself, but still sure that she was right.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a mind you must have, Susanna, to pick wrong out of +that! All about love and lovers! So are books and songs and plays +at the theatre. I suppose you didn't understand that it was intended +as a burlesque on fortune-telling?"</p> + +<p>"And I am quite sure George wouldn't like the kind of slang you +were talking with Captain De Baron at lunch."</p> + +<p>"If George does not like anything he had better tell me so, and +not depute you to do it for him. If he tells me to do anything I shall +do it. If you tell me I shall pay no attention to it whatever. You are +here as my guest, and not as my governess; and I think your interference +very impertinent." This was strong language,—so strong that +Lady Susanna found it impossible to continue the conversation at that +moment. Nothing, indeed, was said between them during the whole +afternoon, or at dinner, or in the evening,—till Lady Susanna had +taken up her candlestick.</p> + +<p>There had been that most clearly declared of all war which is shown +by absolute silence. But Lady Susanna, as she was retiring to rest, +thought it might be wise to make a little effort after peace. She did +not at all mean to go back from what charges she had made. She had +no idea of owning herself to be wrong. But perhaps she could throw +a little oil upon the waters. "Of course," she said, "I should not +have spoken as I have done but for my great love for George and my +regard for you."</p> + +<p>"As far as I am concerned, I think it a mistaken regard," said<!-- Page 164 --> +Mary. "Of course I shall tell George; but even to him I shall say +that I will not endure any authority but his own."</p> + +<p>"Will you hear me?"</p> + +<p>"No, not on this subject. You have accused me of behaving improperly—with +that man."</p> + +<p>"I do think," began Lady Susanna, not knowing how to pick her +words in this emergency, fearing to be too strong, and at the same +time conscious that weakness would be folly——; "I do think that +anything like—like—like flirting is so very bad!"</p> + +<p>"Susanna," said Lady George, with a start as she heard the +odious words, "as far as I can help it, I will never speak to you +again." There certainly had been no oil thrown upon the waters +as yet.</p> + +<p>The next day was passed almost in absolute silence. It was the +Friday, and each of them knew that Lord George would be home on +the morrow. The interval was so short that nothing could be gained +by writing to him. Each had her own story to tell, and each must +wait till he should be there to hear it. Mary with a most distant +civility went through her work of hostess. Lady Susanna made one +or two little efforts to subdue her; but, failing, soon gave up the +endeavour. In the afternoon Aunt Ju called with her niece, but +their conversation did not lessen the breach. Then Lady Susanna +went out alone in the brougham; but that had been arranged beforehand. +They ate their dinner in silence, in silence read their books, +and met in silence at the breakfast-table. At three o'clock Lord +George came home, and then Mary, running downstairs, took him +with her into the drawing-room. There was one embrace, and then +she began. "George," she said, "you must never have Susanna +here again."</p> + +<p>"Why?" said he.</p> + +<p>"She has insulted me. She has said things so nasty that I cannot +repeat them, even to you. She has accused me to my face—of +flirting. I won't bear it from her. If you said it, it would kill me; +but of course you can say what you please. But she shall not scold +me, and tell me that I am this and that because I am not as solemn as +she is, George. Do you believe that I have ever—flirted?" She was +so impetuous that he had been quite unable to stop her. "Did you +mean that she should behave to me like that?"</p> + +<p>"This is very bad," he said.</p> + +<p>"What is very bad. Is it not bad that she should say such things +to me as that? Are you going to take her part against me?"</p> + +<p>"Dearest Mary, you seem to be excited."</p> + +<p>"Of course I am excited. Would you wish me to have such things +as that said to me, and not to be excited? You are not going to take +part against me?"</p> + +<p>"I have not heard her yet."<!-- Page 165 --></p> + +<p>"Will you believe her against me? Will she be able to make you +believe that I have—flirted? If so, then it is all over."</p> + +<p>"What is all over?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, George, why did you marry me, if you cannot trust me?"</p> + +<p>"Who says that I do not trust you? I suppose the truth is you +have been a little—flighty."</p> + +<p>"Been what? I suppose you mean the same thing. I have +talked and laughed, and been amused, if that means being flighty. +She thinks it wicked to laugh, and calls it slang if every word doesn't +come out of the grammar. You had better go and hear her, since you +will say nothing more to me."</p> + +<p>Lord George thought so too; but he stayed for a few moments in +the dining-room, during which he stooped over his wife, who had +thrown herself into an arm-chair, and kissed her. As he did so, +she merely shook her head, but made no response to his caress. +Then he slowly strode away, and went up stairs into the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>What took place there need not be recorded at length. Lady +Susanna did not try to be mischievous. She spoke much of Mary's +youth, and expressed a strong opinion that Captain De Baron was not +a fit companion for her. She was very urgent against the use of slang, +and said almost harder things of Mrs. Houghton than she did of Jack. +She never had meant to imply that Mary had allowed improper attentions +from the gentleman, but that Mary, being young, had not +known what attentions were proper and what improper. To Lady +Susanna the whole matter was so serious that she altogether dropped +the personal quarrel. "Of course, George," she said, "young +people do not like to be told; but it has to be done. And I must +say that Mary likes it as little as any person that I have ever +known."</p> + +<p>This multiplicity of troubles falling together on to the poor man's +back almost crushed him. He had returned to town full of that terrible +letter which he had pledged himself to write; but the letter was +already driven out of his head for the time. It was essentially necessary +that he should compose this domestic trouble, and of course he +returned to his wife. Equally of course after a little time she prevailed. +He had to tell her that he was sure that she never flirted. +He had to say that she did not talk slang. He had to protest that the +fortune-telling cards were absolutely innocent. Then she condescended +to say that she would for the present be civil to Susanna, but +even while saying that she protested that she would never again have +her sister-in-law as a guest in the house. "You don't know, George, +even yet, all that she said to me, or in what sort of way she +behaved."<!-- Page 166 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">THE DEAN RETURNS TO TOWN.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">"Do</span> you mean to say that you have any objection to my being +acquainted with Captain De Baron?" This question Mary asked her +husband on the Monday after his return. On that day Lady Susanna +went back to Brothershire, having somewhat hurried her return +in consequence of the uncomfortable state of things in Minister Court. +They had all gone to church together on the intermediate Sunday, +and Lady Susanna had done her best to conciliate her sister-in-law. +But she was ignorant of the world, and did not know how bitter to a +young married woman is such interference as that of which she had +been guilty. She could not understand the amount of offence which +was rankling in Mary's bosom. It had not consisted only in the +words spoken, but her looks in the man's presence had conveyed the +same accusation, so that it could be seen and understood by the man +himself. Mary, with an effort, had gone on with her play, determined +that no one should suppose her to be cowed by her grand +sister-in-law; but through it all she had resolved always to look upon +Lady Susanna as an enemy. She had already abandoned her threat +of not speaking to her own guest; but nothing that Lady Susanna +could say, nothing that Lord George could say, softened her heart in +the least. The woman had told her that she was a flirt, had declared +that what she did and said was improper. The woman had come there +as a spy, and the woman should never be her friend. In these circumstances +Lord George found it impossible not to refer to the unfortunate +subject again, and in doing so caused the above question to +be asked. "Do you mean to say that you have any objection to my +being acquainted with Captain De Baron?" She looked at him +with so much eagerness in her eyes as she spoke that he knew that +much at any rate of his present comfort might depend on the answer +which he made.</p> + +<p>He certainly did object to her being acquainted with Jack De +Baron. He did not at all like Jack De Baron. In spite of what he +had found himself obliged to say, in order that she might be comforted +on his first arrival, he did not like slang, and he did not +like fortune-telling cards or bagatelle. His sympathies in these +matters were all with his sister. He did like spending his own +time with Mrs. Houghton, but it was dreadful to him to think that +his wife should be spending hers with Jack De Baron. Nevertheless +he could not tell her so. "No," he said, "I have no particular +objection."</p> + +<p>"Of course if you had, I would never see him again. But it<!-- Page 167 --> +would be very dreadful. He would have to be told that you were—jealous."</p> + +<p>"I am not in the least jealous," said he, angrily. "You should not +use such a word."</p> + +<p>"Certainly I should not have used it, but for the disturbance which +your sister has caused. But after all that she has said, there must be +some understanding. I like Captain De Baron very much, as I +dare say you like other ladies. Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I have never suspected anything."</p> + +<p>"But Susanna did. Of course you don't like all this, George. I +don't like it. I have been so miserable that I have almost cried my +eyes out. But if people will make mischief, what is one to do? The +only thing is not to have the mischief maker any more."</p> + +<p>The worst of this was, to him, that she was so manifestly getting +the better of him! When he had married her, not yet nine months +since, she had been a little girl, altogether in his hands, not pretending +to any self-action, and anxious to be guided in everything by him. +His only fear had been that she might be too slow in learning that +self-assertion which is necessary from a married woman to the world at +large. But now she had made very great progress in the lesson, not only +as regarded the world at large, but as regarded himself also. As for his +family,—the grandeur of his family,—she clearly had no reverence +for that. Lady Susanna, though generally held to be very awful, had +been no more to her than any other Susan. He almost wished that +he had told her that he did object to Jack De Baron. There would +have been a scene, of course; and she, not improbably, might have +told her father. That at present would have been doubly disagreeable, +as it was incumbent upon him to stand well with the Dean, just +at this time. There was this battle to be fought with his brother, and +he felt that he could not fight it without the Dean!</p> + +<p>Having given his sanction to Jack De Baron, he went away to his +club to write his letter. This writing really amounted to no more +than copying the Dean's words, which he had carried in his pocket +ever since he had left the deanery, and the Dean's words were as +follows:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<div class="start"> +<span class="letterstart">"Munster Court, <i>26th April, 187—</i>.<br></span> +</div> + + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Brotherton</span>,—I am compelled to write to you under +very disagreeable circumstances, and to do so on a subject which I +would willingly avoid if a sense of duty would permit me to be silent.</p> + +<p>"You will remember that you wrote to me in October last, telling +me that you were about to be married. 'I am to be married to the +Marchesa Luigi,' were your words. Up to that moment we had +heard nothing of the lady or of any arrangement as to a marriage. +When I told you of my own intended marriage a few months before +that, you merely said in answer that you might probably soon want +the house at Manor Cross yourself. It now seems that when you told<!-- Page 168 --> +us of your intended marriage you had already been married over two +years, and that when I told you of mine you had a son over twelve +months old,—a fact which I might certainly expect that you would +communicate to me at such a time.</p> + +<p>"I beg to assure you that I am now urged to write by no suspicions +of my own; but I know that if things are left to go on as they are +now, suspicions will arise at a future time. I write altogether in the +interests of your son and heir; and for his sake I beseech you to put +at once into the hands of your own lawyer absolute evidence of the +date of your marriage, of its legality, and of the birth of your son. +It will also be expedient that my lawyer shall see the evidence in your +lawyer's hands. If you were to die as matters are now it would be +imperative on me to take steps which would seem to be hostile to +Popenjoy's interest. I think you must yourself feel that this would +be so. And yet nothing would be further from my wish. If we were +both to die, the difficulty would be still greater, as in that case +proceedings would have to be taken by more distant members of the +family.</p> + +<p>"I trust you will believe me when I say that my only object is to +have the matter satisfactorily settled.</p> + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature2">"Your affectionate brother,<br></span> +<span class="smcap presignature3">"George Germain."<br></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>When the Marquis received this letter he was not in the least +astonished by it. Lord George had told his sister Sarah that it was to +be written, and had even discussed with her the Dean's words. Lady +Sarah had thought that as the Dean was a sagacious man, his exact +words had better be used. And then Lady Amelia had been told, +Lady Amelia having asked various questions on the subject. Lady +Amelia had of course known that her brother would discuss the matter +with the Dean, and had begged that she might not be treated as a +stranger. Everything had not been told to Lady Amelia, nor had +Lady Amelia told all that she had heard to her mother. But the +Marchioness had known enough, and had communicated enough to her +son to save him from any great astonishment when he got his brother's +letter. Of course he had known that some steps would be taken.</p> + +<p>He answered the letter at once.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Brother</span>," he said,—"I don't think it necessary to let +you know the reasons which induced me to keep my marriage private +awhile. You rush at conclusions very fast in thinking that because a +marriage is private, therefore it is illegal. I am glad that you have +no suspicions of your own, and beg to assure you I don't care whether +you have or not. Whenever you or anybody else may want to try the +case, you or he or they will find that I have taken care that there is<!-- Page 169 --> +plenty of evidence. I didn't know that you had a lawyer. I only +hope he won't run you into much expense in finding a mare's nest.</p> + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature2">"Yours truly,<br></span> +<span class="presignature3">"B."<br></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>This was not in itself satisfactory; but such as it was, it did for +a time make Lord George believe that Popenjoy was Popenjoy. It +was certainly true of him that he wished Popenjoy to be Popenjoy. +No personal longing for the title or property made him in his heart +disloyal to his brother or his family. And then the trouble and +expense and anxieties of such a contest were so terrible to his imagination, +that he rejoiced when he thought that they might be avoided. +But there was the Dean. The Dean must be satisfied as well as he, +and he felt that the Dean would not be satisfied. According to agreement +he sent a copy of his brother's letter down to the Dean, and +added the assurance of his own belief that the marriage had been a +marriage, that the heir was an heir, and that further steps would be +useless. It need hardly be said that the Dean was not satisfied. +Before dinner on the following day the Dean was in Minister Court. +"Oh, papa," exclaimed Mary, "I am so glad to see you." Could it +be anything about Captain De Baron that had brought him up? If +so, of course she would tell him everything. "What brought you up +so suddenly? Why didn't you write? George is at the club, I suppose." +George was really in Berkeley Square at that moment. "Oh, +yes; he will be home to dinner. Is there anything wrong at Manor +Cross, papa?" Her father was so pleasant in his manner to her, that +she perceived at once that he had not come up in reference to Captain +De Baron. No complaint of her behaviour on that score had as yet +reached him. "Where's your portmanteau, papa?"</p> + +<p>"I've got a bed at the hotel in Suffolk Street. I shall only be here +one night, or at the most two; and as I had to come suddenly I +wouldn't trouble you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa, that's very bad of you."</p> + +<p>This she said with that genuine tone which begets confidence. The +Dean was very anxious that his daughter should in truth be fond of +his company. In the game which he intended to play her co-operation +and her influence over her husband would be very necessary to him. +She must be a Lovelace rather than a Germain till she should blaze +forth as the presiding genius of the Germain family. That Lord George +should become tired of him and a little afraid of him he knew could +not be avoided; but to her he must, if possible, be a pleasant genius, +never accompanied in her mind by ideas of parental severity or clerical +heaviness. "I should weary you out if I came too often and came so +suddenly," he said, laughing.</p> + +<p>"But what has brought you, papa?"<!-- Page 170 --></p> + +<p>"The Marquis, my dear, who, it seems to me, will, for some time +to come, have a considerable influence on my doings."</p> + +<p>"The Marquis!"</p> + +<p>He had made up his mind that she should know everything. If her +husband did not tell her, he would. "Yes, the Marquis. Perhaps +I ought to say the Marchioness, only that I am unwilling to give that +title to a lady who I think very probably has no right to it."</p> + +<p>"Is all that coming up already?"</p> + +<p>"The longer it is postponed the greater will be the trouble to all +parties. It cannot be endured that a man in his position should tell +us that his son is legitimate when that son was born more than a year +before he had declared himself about to marry, and that he should +then refuse to furnish us with any evidence."</p> + +<p>"Have you asked him?" Mary, as she made the suggestion, was +herself horror-stricken at the awfulness of the occasion.</p> + +<p>"George has asked him."</p> + +<p>"And what has the Marquis done?"</p> + +<p>"Sent him back a jeering reply. He has a way of jeering which he +thinks will carry everything before it. When I called upon him he +jeered at me. But he'll have to learn that he cannot jeer you out of +your rights."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would not think about my rights, papa."</p> + +<p>"Your rights will probably be the rights of some one else."</p> + +<p>"I know, papa; but still——"</p> + +<p>"It has to be done, and George quite agrees with me. The letter +which he did write to his brother was arranged between us. Lady +Sarah is quite of the same accord, and Lady Susanna——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa, I do so hate Susanna." This she said with all her +eloquence.</p> + +<p>"I daresay she can make herself unpleasant."</p> + +<p>"I have told George that she shall not come here again as a +guest."</p> + +<p>"What did she do?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot bring myself to tell you what it was that she said. I told +George, of course. She is a nasty evil-minded creature—suspecting +everything."</p> + +<p>"I hope there has been nothing disagreeable."</p> + +<p>"It was very disagreeable, indeed, while George was away. Of +course I did not care so much when he came back." The Dean, who +had been almost frightened, was reassured when he learned that there +had been no quarrel between the husband and wife. Soon afterwards +Lord George came in and was astonished to find that his letter had +brought up the Dean so quickly. No discussion took place till after +dinner, but then the Dean was very perspicuous, and at the same time +very authoritative. It was in vain that Lord George asked what they +could do, and declared that the evil troubles which must probably<!-- Page 171 --> +arise would all rest on his brother's head. "But we must prevent +such troubles, let them rest where they will," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"I don't see what we can do."</p> + +<p>"Nor do I, because we are not lawyers. A lawyer will tell us at +once. It will probably be our duty to send a commissioner out to Italy +to make enquiry."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't like to do that about my brother."</p> + +<p>"Of course your brother should be told; or rather everything +should be told to your brother's lawyer, so that he might be advised +what steps he ought to take. We would do nothing secretly—nothing +of which any one could say that we ought to be ashamed." The Dean +proposed that they should both go to his attorney, Mr. Battle, on the +following day; but this step seemed to Lord George to be such an +absolute declaration of war that he begged for another day's delay; +and it was at last arranged that he himself should on that intervening +day call on Mr. Stokes, the Germain family lawyer. The Marquis, +with one of his jeers, had told his brother that, being a younger +brother, he was not entitled to have a lawyer. But in truth Lord +George had had very much more to do with Mr. Stokes than the +Marquis. All the concerns of the family had been managed by Mr. +Stokes. The Marquis probably meant to insinuate that the family bill, +which was made out perhaps once every three years, was charged against +his account. Lord George did call on Mr. Stokes, and found Mr. +Stokes very little disposed to give him any opinion. Mr. Stokes was +an honest man who disliked trouble of this kind. He freely admitted +that there was ground for enquiry, but did not think that he himself +was the man who ought to make it. He would certainly communicate +with the Marquis, should Lord George think it expedient to employ +any other lawyer, and should that lawyer apply to him. In the meantime +he thought that immediate enquiry would be a little precipitate. +The Marquis might probably himself take steps to put the matter on +a proper footing. He was civil, gracious, almost subservient; but he +had no comfort to give and no advice to offer, and, like all attorneys, +he was in favour of delay. "Of course, Lord George, you must +remember that I am your brother's lawyer, and may in this matter be +called upon to act as his confidential adviser." All this Lord George +repeated that evening to the Dean, and the Dean merely said that it +had been a matter of course.</p> + +<p>Early on the next morning the Dean and Lord George went together +to Mr. Battle's chambers. Lord George felt that he was being driven +by his father-in-law; but he felt also that he could not help himself. +Mr. Battle, who had chambers in Lincoln's Inn, was a very different +man from Mr. Stokes, who carried on his business in a private house +at the West End, who prepared wills and marriage settlements for +gentlefolk, and who had, in fact, very little to do with law. Mr. +Battle was an enterprising man with whom the Dean's first acquaint<!-- Page 172 -->ance +had arisen through the Tallowaxes and the stable interests,—a +very clever man, and perhaps a little sharp. But an attorney ought +to be sharp, and it is not to be understood that Mr. Battle descended +to sharp practise. But he was a solicitor with whom the old-fashioned +Mr. Stokes's would not find themselves in accord. He was a handsome +burly man, nearly sixty years of age, with grey hair and clean +shorn face, with bright green eyes, and a well-formed nose and mouth,—a +prepossessing man, till something restless about the eyes would at +last catch the attention and a little change the judgment.</p> + +<p>The Dean told him the whole story, and during the telling he sat +looking very pleasant, with a smile on his face, rubbing his two hands +together. All the points were made. The letter of the Marquis, in +which he told his brother that he was to be married, was shown to +him. The concealment of the birth of the boy till the father had +made up his mind to come home was urged. The absurdity of his +behaviour since he had been at home was described. The singularity +of his conduct in allowing none of his family to become acquainted +with his wife was pointed out. This was done by the Dean rather than +by Lord George, and Lord George, as he heard it all, almost regarded +the Dean as his enemy. At last he burst out in his own defence. "Of +course you will understand, Mr. Battle, that our only object is to +have the thing proved, so that hereafter there may be no trouble."</p> + +<p>"Just so, my Lord."</p> + +<p>"We do not want to oppose my brother, or to injure his child."</p> + +<p>"We want to get at the truth," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"Just so."</p> + +<p>"Where there is concealment there must be suspicion," urged the +Dean.</p> + +<p>"No doubt."</p> + +<p>"But everything must be done quite openly," said Lord George. +"I would not have a step taken without the knowledge of Mr. Stokes. +If Mr. Stokes would do it himself on my brother's behalf it would be +so much the better."</p> + +<p>"That is hardly probable," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"Not at all probable," said Mr. Battle.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't be a party to an adverse suit," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"There is no ground for any suit at all," said the lawyer. "We +cannot bring an action against the Marquis because he chooses to call +the lady he lives with a Marchioness, or because he calls an infant +Lord Popenjoy. Your brother's conduct may be ill-judged. From +what you tell me, I think it is. But it is not criminal."</p> + +<p>"Then nothing need be done," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"A great deal may be done. Enquiry may be made now which +might hereafter be impossible." Then he begged that he might have a +week to consider the matter, and requested that the two gentlemen +would call upon him again.<!-- Page 173 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">THE BARONESS BANMANN AGAIN.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">A day</span> or two after the meeting at Mr. Battle's office there came to +Lord George a letter from that gentleman suggesting that, as the +Dean had undertaken to come up to London again, and as he, Mr. +Battle, might not be ready with his advice at the end of a week, that +day fortnight might be fixed. To Lord George this delay was agreeable +rather than otherwise, as he was not specially anxious for the +return of his father-in-law, nor was he longing for action in this +question as to his brother's heir. But the Dean, when the lawyer's +letter reached him, was certain that Mr. Battle did not mean to lose +the time simply in thinking over the matter. Some preliminary +enquiry would now be made, even though no positive instructions had +been given. He did not at all regret this, but was sure that Lord +George would be very angry if he knew it. He wrote back to say +that he would be in Munster Court on the evening before the day +appointed.</p> + +<p>It was now May, and London was bright with all the exotic gaiety +of the season. The park was crowded with riders at one, and was +almost impassable at six. Dress was outvying dress, and equipage +equipage. Men and women, but principally women, seemed to be +intent on finding out new ways of scattering money. Tradesmen no +doubt knew much of defaulters, and heads of families might find themselves +pressed for means; but to the outside west-end eye looking at +the outside west-end world it seemed as though wealth was unlimited +and money a drug. To those who had known the thing for years, to +young ladies who were now entering on their seventh or eighth campaign, +there was a feeling of business about it all which, though it +buoyed them up by its excitement, robbed amusement of most of its +pleasure. A ball cannot be very agreeable in which you may not +dance with the man you like and are not asked by the man you +want; at which you are forced to make a note that that full-blown +hope is futile, and that this little bud will surely never come to flower. +And then the toil of smiles, the pretence at flirtation, the long-continued +assumption of fictitious character, the making of oneself bright +to the bright, solemn to the solemn, and romantic to the romantic, is +work too hard for enjoyment. But our heroine had no such work to +do. She was very much admired and could thoroughly enjoy the +admiration. She had no task to perform. She was not carrying out +her profession by midnight labours. Who shall say whether now and +again a soft impalpable regret,—a regret not recognised as such,—may +not have stolen across her mind, telling her that if she had seen<!-- Page 174 --> +all this before she was married instead of afterwards, she might have +found a brighter lot for herself? If it were so, the only enduring +effect of such a feeling was a renewal of that oft-made resolution that +she would be in love with her husband. The ladies whom she knew +had generally their carriages and riding horses. She had only a +brougham, and had that kept for her by the generosity of her father. +The Dean, when coming to town, had brought with him the horse +which she used to ride, and wished that it should remain. But Lord +George, with a husband's solicitude, and perhaps with something of a +poor man's proper dislike to expensive habits, had refused his permission. +She soon, too, learned to know the true sheen of diamonds, the luxury +of pearls, and the richness of rubies; whereas she herself wore only +the little ornaments which had come from the deanery. And as she +danced in spacious rooms and dined in noble halls, and was fêted on +grand staircases, she remembered what a little place was the little +house in Munster Court, and that she was to stay there only for a few +weeks more before she was taken to the heavy dulness of Cross Hall. +But still she always came back to that old resolution. She was so +flattered, so courted, so petted and made much of, that she could not +but feel that had all this world been opened to her sooner her destiny +would probably have been different;—but then it might have been +different, and very much less happy. She still told herself that she +was sure that Lord George was all that he ought to be.</p> + +<p>Two or three things did tease her certainly. She was very fond of +balls, but she soon found that Lord George disliked them as much, +and when present was always anxious to get home. She was a married +woman, and it was open to her to go alone; but that she did not like, +nor would he allow it. Sometimes she joined herself to other parties. +Mrs. Houghton was always ready to be her companion, and old Mrs. +Montacute Jones, who went everywhere, had taken a great liking to +her. But there were two antagonistic forces, her husband and herself, +and of course she had to yield to the stronger force. The thing might +be managed occasionally,—and the occasion was no doubt much the +pleasanter because it had to be so managed,—but there was always +the feeling that these bright glimpses of Paradise, these entrances +into Elysium, were not free to her as to other ladies. And then one +day, or rather one night, there came a great sorrow,—a sorrow which +robbed these terrestrial Paradises of half their brightness and more +than half their joy. One evening he told her that he did not like her +to waltz. "Why?" she innocently asked. They were in the +brougham, going home, and she had been supremely happy at Mrs. +Montacute Jones's house. Lord George said that he could hardly +explain the reason. He made rather a long speech, in which he asked +her whether she was not aware that many married women did not +waltz. "No," said she. "That is, of course, when they get old +they don't." "I am sure," said he, "that when I say I do not like<!-- Page 175 --> +it, that will be enough." "Quite enough," she answered, "to prevent +my doing it, though not enough to satisfy me why it should not +be done." He said no more to her on the occasion, and so the matter +was considered to be settled. Then she remembered that her very +last waltz had been with Jack De Baron. Could it be that he was +jealous? She was well aware that she took great delight in waltzing +with Captain De Baron because he waltzed so well. But now that +pleasure was over, and for ever! Was it that her husband disliked +waltzing, or that he disliked Jack De Baron?</p> + +<p>A few days after this Lady George was surprised by a visit from the +Baroness Banmann, the lady whom she had been taken to hear at the +Disabilities. Since that memorable evening she had seen Aunt Ju +more than once, and had asked how the cause of the female architects +was progressing; but she had never again met the Baroness. Aunt Ju +had apparently been disturbed by these questions. She had made no +further effort to make Lady George a proselyte by renewed attendances +at the Rights of Women Institute, and had seemed almost +anxious to avoid the subject. As Lady George's acquaintance with +the Baroness had been owing altogether to Aunt Ju she was now +surprised that the German lady should call upon her.</p> + +<p>The German lady began a story with great impetuosity,—with so +much impetuosity that poor Mary could not understand half that was +said to her. But she did learn that the Baroness had in her own +estimation been very ill-treated, and that the ill-treatment had come +mainly from the hands of Aunt Ju and Lady Selina Protest. And it +appeared at length that the Baroness claimed to have been brought +over from Bavaria with a promise that she should have the exclusive +privilege of using the hall of the Disabilities on certain evenings, but +that this privilege was now denied to her. The Disabilities seemed to +prefer her younger rival, Miss Doctor Olivia Q. Fleabody, whom Mary +now learned to be a person of no good repute whatever, and by no +means fit to address the masses of Marylebone. But what did the +Baroness want of her? What with the female lecturer's lack of +English pronunciation, what with her impetuosity, and with Mary's +own innocence on the matter, it was some time before the younger +lady did understand what the elder lady required. At last eight +tickets were brought out of her pocket, on looking at which Mary +began to understand that the Baroness had established a rival Disabilities, +very near the other, in Lisson Grove; and then at last, but +very gradually, she further understood that these were front-row +tickets, and were supposed to be worth 2<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> each. But it was not +till after that, till further explanation had been made which must, +she feared, have been very painful to the Baroness, that she began to +perceive that she was expected to pay for the eight tickets on the +moment. She had a sovereign in her pocket, and was quite willing to +sacrifice it; but she hardly knew how to hand the coin bodily to a<!-- Page 176 --> +Baroness. When she did do so, the Baroness very well knew how to +put it into her pocket. "You vill like to keep the entire eight?" +asked the Baroness. Mary thought that four might perhaps suffice +for her own wants;—whereupon the Baroness re-pocketed four, but of +course did not return the change.</p> + +<p>But even then the Baroness had not completed her task. Aunt Ju +had evidently been false and treacherous, but might still be won back +to loyal honesty. So much Mary gradually perceived to be the drift +of the lady's mind. Lady Selina was hopeless. Lady Selina, whom +the Baroness intended to drag before all the judges in England, would +do nothing fair or honest; but Aunt Ju might yet be won. Would +Lady George go with the Baroness to Aunt Ju? The servant had +unfortunately just announced the brougham as being at the door. +"Ah," said the Baroness, "it vould be ten minutes, and vould be my +salvation." Lady George did not at all want to go to the house in +Green Street. She had no great desire to push her acquaintance with +Aunt Ju, she particularly disliked the younger Miss Mildmay, and +she felt that she had no business to interfere in this matter. But there +is nothing which requires so much experience to attain as the power +of refusing. Almost before she had made up her mind whether she +would refuse or not the Baroness was in the brougham with her, and +the coachman had been desired to take them to Green Street. Throughout +the whole distance the Baroness was voluble and unintelligible; +but Lady George could hear the names of Selina Protest and Olivia +Q. Fleabody through the thunder of the lady's loud complaints.</p> + +<p>Yes, Miss Mildmay was at home. Lady George gave her name to +the servant, and also especially requested that the Baroness Banmann +might be first announced. She had thought it over in the brougham, +and had determined that if possible it should appear that the Baroness +had brought her. Twice she repeated the name to the servant. When +they reached the drawing-room only the younger Miss Mildmay was +present. She sent the servant to her aunt, and received her two visitors +very demurely. With the Baroness, of whom probably she had heard +quite enough, she had no sympathies; and with Lady George she had +her own special ground of quarrel. Five or six very long minutes +passed during which little or nothing was said. The Baroness did not +wish to expend her eloquence on an unprofitable young lady, and +Lady George could find no subject for small talk. At last the door +was opened and the servant invited the Baroness to go downstairs. +The Baroness had perhaps been unfortunate, for at this very time +Lady Selina Protest was down in the dining-room discussing the affairs +of the Institute with Aunt Ju. There was a little difficulty in making +the lady understand what was required of her, but after a while she +did follow the servant down to the dining-room.</p> + +<p>Lady George, as soon as the door was closed, felt that the blood<!-- Page 177 --> +rushed to her face. She was conscious at the moment that Captain De +Baron had been this girl's lover, and that there were some who said +that it was because of her that he had deserted the girl. The girl had +already said words to her on the subject which had been very hard +to bear. She had constantly told herself that in this matter she was +quite innocent,—that her friendship with Jack was simple, pure friendship, +that she liked him because he laughed and talked and treated +the world lightly; that she rarely saw him except in the presence of +his cousin, and that everything was as it ought to be. And yet, when +she found herself alone with this Miss Mildmay, she was suffused +with blushes and uneasy. She felt that she ought to make some excuse +for her visit. "I hope," she said, "that your aunt will understand +that I brought the lady here only because she insisted on being +brought." Miss Mildmay bowed. "She came to me, and I really +couldn't quite understand what she had to say. But the brougham +was there, and she would get into it. I am afraid there has been some +quarrel."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that matters at all," said Miss Mildmay.</p> + +<p>"Only your aunt might think it so impertinent of me! She took +me to that Institute once, you know."</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about the Institute. As for the German +woman, she is an impostor; but it doesn't matter. There are three +of them there now, and they can have it out together." Lady George +didn't understand whether her companion meant to blame her for +coming, but was quite sure, from the tone of the girl's voice and the +look of her eyes, that she meant to be uncivil. "I am surprised," +continued Miss Mildmay, "that you should come to this house +at all."</p> + +<p>"I hope your aunt will not think——"</p> + +<p>"Never mind my aunt. The house is more my house than my +aunt's. After what you have done to me——"</p> + +<p>"What have I done to you?" She could not help asking the question, +and yet she well knew the nature of the accusation. And she +could not stop the rushing of the tell-tale blood.</p> + +<p>Augusta Mildmay was blushing too, but the blush on her face consisted +in two red spots beneath the eyes. The determination to say +what she was going to say had come upon her suddenly. She had not +thought that she was about to meet her rival. She had planned +nothing; but now she was determined. "What have you done?" she +said. "You know very well what you have done. Do you mean to +tell me that you had never heard of anything between me and Captain +De Baron? Will you dare to tell me that? Why don't you answer +me, Lady George Germain?"</p> + +<p>This was a question which she did not wish to answer, and one that +did not at all appertain to herself—which did not require any answer +for the clearing of herself; but yet it was now asked in such a manner<!-- Page 178 --> +that she could not save herself from answering it. "I think I did +hear that you and he—knew each other."</p> + +<p>"Knew each other! Don't be so mealy-mouthed. I don't mean +to be mealy-mouthed, I can tell you. You knew all about it. Adelaide +had told you. You knew that we were engaged."</p> + +<p>"No," exclaimed Lady George; "she never told me that."</p> + +<p>"She did. I know she did. She confessed to me that she had told +you so."</p> + +<p>"But what if she had?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he is nothing to you," said the young lady with a sneer.</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all;—nothing on earth. How dare you ask such a +question? If Captain De Baron is engaged, I can't make him keep +his engagements."</p> + +<p>"You can make him break them."</p> + +<p>"That is not true. I can make him do nothing of the kind. You +have no right to talk to me in this way, Miss Mildmay."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall do it without a right. You have come between me +and all my happiness."</p> + +<p>"You cannot know that I am a married woman," said Lady George, +speaking half in innocence and half in anger, almost out of breath +with confusion, "or you wouldn't speak like that."</p> + +<p>"Psha!" exclaimed Miss Mildmay. "It is nothing to me whether +you are married or single. I care nothing though you have twenty +lovers if you do not interfere with me."</p> + +<p>"It is a falsehood," said Lady George, who was now standing. "I +have no lover. It is a wicked falsehood."</p> + +<p>"I care nothing for wickedness or falseness either. Will you promise +me if I hold my tongue that you will have nothing further to say to +Captain De Baron?"</p> + +<p>"No; I will promise nothing. I should be ashamed of myself to +make such a promise."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall go to Lord George. I do not want to make mischief, +but I am not going to be treated in this way. How would you like it? +When I tell you that the man is engaged to me why cannot you leave +him alone?"</p> + +<p>"I do leave him alone," said Mary, stamping her foot.</p> + +<p>"You do everything you can to cheat me of him. I shall tell Lord +George."</p> + +<p>"You may tell whom you like," said Mary, rushing to the bell-handle +and pulling it with all her might. "You have insulted me, +and I will never speak to you again." Then she burst out crying, +and hurried to the door. "Will you—get me—my—carriage?" she +said to the man through her sobs. As she descended the stairs she +remembered that she had brought the German baroness with her, and +that the German baroness would probably expect to be taken away +again. But when she reached the hall the door of the dining-room<!-- Page 179 --> +burst open, and the German baroness appeared. It was evident that +two scenes had been going on in the same house at the same moment. +Through the door the Baroness came first, waving her hands above +her head. Behind her was Aunt Ju, advancing with imploring gesture. +And behind Aunt Ju might be seen Lady Selina Protest standing in +mute dignity. "It is all a got up cheating and a fraud," said the +Baroness: "and I vill have justice,—English justice." The servant +was standing with the front door open, and the Baroness went straight +into Lady George's brougham, as though it had been her own. "Oh, +Lady George," said Aunt Ju, "what are you to do with her?" But +Lady George was so taken up with her own trouble that she could +hardly think of the other matter. She had to say something. "Perhaps +I had better go with her. Good-bye." And then she followed +the Baroness. "I did not tink dere was such robbery with ladies," +said the Baroness. But the footman was asking for directions for the +coachman. Whither was he to go? "I do not care," said the Baroness. +Lady George asked her in a whisper whether she would be taken home. +"Anywhere," said the Baroness. In the meantime the footman was +still standing, and Aunt Ju could be seen in the hall through the +open door of the house. During the whole time our poor Mary's +heart was crushed by the accusations which had been made against +her upstairs. "Home," said Mary in despair. To have the Baroness +in Munster Court would be dreadful; but anything was better than +standing in Green Street with the servant at the carriage window.</p> + +<p>Then the Baroness began her story. Lady Selina Protest had +utterly refused to do her justice, and Aunt Ju was weak enough to +be domineered by Lady Selina. That, as far as Mary understood anything +about it, was the gist of the story. But she did not try to +understand anything about it. During the drive her mind was intent +on forming some plan by which she might be able to get rid of her +companion without asking her into her house. She had paid her +sovereign, and surely the Baroness had no right to demand more of +her. When she reached Munster Court her plan was in some sort +framed. "And now, madam," she said, "where shall I tell my +servant to take you?" The Baroness looked very suppliant. "If +you vas not busy I should so like just one half-hour of conversation." +Mary nearly yielded. For a moment she hesitated as though she were +going to put up her hand and help the lady out. But then the memory +of her own unhappiness steeled her heart, and the feeling grew strong +within her that this nasty woman was imposing on her,—and she +refused. "I am afraid, madam," she said, "that my time is altogether +occupied." "Then let him take me to 10, Alexandrina Row, +Maida Vale," said the Baroness, throwing herself sulkily back into the +carriage. Lady George gave the direction to the astounded coachman,—for +Maida Vale was a long way off,—and succeeded in reaching +her own drawing-room alone.<!-- Page 180 --></p> + +<p>What was she to do? The only course in which there seemed to be +safety was in telling all to her husband. If she did not, it would +probably be told by the cruel lips of that odious woman. But yet, +how was she to tell it? It was not as though everything in this +matter was quite pleasant between her and him. Lady Susanna had +accused her of flirting with the man, and that she had told to him. And +in her heart of hearts she believed that the waltzing had been stopped +because she had waltzed with Jack De Baron. Nothing could be more +unjust, nothing more cruel; but still there were the facts. And then +the sympathy between her and her husband was so imperfect. She +was ever trying to be in love with him, but had never yet succeeded +in telling even herself that she had succeeded.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">"WHAT MATTER IF SHE DOES?"</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">About</span> noon on the day after the occurrences related in the last +chapter Lady George owned to herself that she was a most unfortunate +young woman. Her husband had gone out, and she had not as yet +told him anything of what that odious Augusta Mildmay had said to +her. She had made various little attempts but had not known how +to go on with them. She had begun by giving him her history of the +Baroness, and he had scolded her for giving the woman a sovereign +and for taking the woman about London in her carriage. It is very +difficult to ask in a fitting way for the sympathies and co-operation of +one who is scolding you. And Mary in this matter wanted almost +more than sympathy and co-operation. Nothing short of the fullest +manifestation of affectionate confidence would suffice to comfort her; +and, desiring this, she had been afraid to mention Captain De Baron's +name. She thought of the waltzing, thought of Susanna, and was +cowardly. So the time slipped away from her, and when he left her +on the following morning her story had not been told. He was no +sooner gone than she felt that if it were to be told at all it should have +been told at once.</p> + +<p>Was it possible that that venomous girl should really go to her +husband with such a complaint? She knew well enough, or at any +rate thought that she knew, that there had never been an engagement +between the girl and Jack De Baron. She had heard it all over and +over again from Adelaide Houghton, and had even herself been present +at some joke on the subject between Adelaide and Jack. There was +an idea that Jack was being pursued, and Mrs. Houghton had not +scrupled to speak of it before him. Mary had not admired her friend's<!-- Page 181 --> +taste, and had on such occasions thought well of Jack because he had +simply disowned any consciousness of such a state of things. But all +this had made Mary sure that there was not and that there never had +been any engagement; and yet the wretched woman, in her futile and +frantic endeavours to force the man to marry her, was not ashamed to +make so gross an attack as this!</p> + +<p>If it hadn't been for Lady Susanna and those wretched fortune-telling +cards, and that one last waltz, there would be nothing in it; +but as it was, there might be so much! She had begun to fear that +her husband's mind was suspicious,—that he was prone to believe that +things were going badly. Before her marriage, when she had in truth +known him not at all, her father had given her some counsels in his +light airy way, which, however, had sunk deep into her mind and which +she had endeavoured to follow to the letter. He had said not a word to +her as to her conduct to other men. It would not be natural that a father +should do so. But he had told her how to behave to her husband. Men, +he had assured her, were to be won by such comforts as he described. +A wife should provide that a man's dinner was such as he liked to eat, +his bed such as he liked to lie on, his clothes arranged as he liked to +wear them, and the household hours fixed to suit his convenience. +She should learn and indulge his habits, should suit herself to him in +external things of life, and could thus win from him a liking and a +reverence which would wear better than the feeling generally called +love, and would at last give the woman her proper influence. The +Dean had meant to teach his child how she was to rule her husband, +but of course had been too wise to speak of dominion. Mary, declaring +to herself that the feeling generally called love should exist as well as the +liking and the reverence, had laboured hard to win it all from her husband +in accordance with her father's teaching; but it had seemed to her +that her labour was wasted. Lord George did not in the least care +what he ate. He evidently had no opinion at all about the bed; and +as to his clothes, seemed to receive no accession of comfort by having +one wife and her maid, instead of three sisters and their maid and old +Mrs. Toff to look after them. He had no habits which she could +indulge. She had looked about for the weak point in his armour, but +had not found it. It seemed to her that she had no influence over him +whatever. She was of course aware that they lived upon her fortune; +but she was aware also that he knew that it was so, and that the consciousness +made him unhappy. She could not, therefore, even endeavour +to minister to his comfort by surrounding him with pretty things. +All expenditure was grievous to him. The only matter in which she +had failed to give way to any expressed wish had been in that important +matter of their town residence; and, as to that, she had in +fact had no power of yielding. It had been of such moment as to have +been settled for her by previous contract. But, she had often thought, +whether in her endeavour to force herself to be in love with him, she<!-- Page 182 --> +would not persistently demand that Munster Court should be abandoned, +and that all the pleasures of her own life should be sacrificed.</p> + +<p>Now, for a day or two, she heartily wished that she had done so. +She liked her house; she liked her brougham; she liked the gaieties +of her life; and in a certain way she liked Jack De Baron; but they +were all to her as nothing when compared to her duty and her sense +of the obligations which she owed to her husband. Playful and +childish as she was, all this was very serious to her;—perhaps the more +serious because she was playful and childish. She had not experience +enough to know how small some things are, and how few are the +evils which cannot be surmounted. It seemed to her that if Miss +Mildmay were at this moment to bring the horrid charge against her, +it might too probably lead to the crash of ruin and the horrors of despair. +And yet, through it all, she had a proud feeling of her own innocence +and a consciousness that she would speak out very loudly should her +husband hint to her that he believed the accusation.</p> + +<p>Her father would now be in London in a day or two, and on this +occasion would again be staying in Munster Court. At last she made +up her mind that she would tell everything to him. It was not, perhaps, +the wisest resolution to which she could have come. A married +woman should not usually teach herself to lean on her parents instead +of her husband, and certainly not on her father. It is in this way +that divided households are made. But she had no other real friend +of whom she could ask a question. She liked Mrs. Houghton, but, +as to such a matter as this, distrusted her altogether. She liked Miss +Houghton, her friend's aunt, but did not know her well enough for +such service as this. She had neither brother nor sister of her own, +and her husband's brothers and sisters were certainly out of the +question. Old Mrs. Montacute Jones had taken a great fancy to her, +and she almost thought that she could have asked Mrs. Jones for +advice; but she had no connection with Mrs. Jones, and did not dare +to do it. Therefore she resolved to tell everything to her father.</p> + +<p>On the evening before her father came to town there was another +ball at Mrs. Montacute Jones's. This old lady, who had no one +belonging to her but an invisible old husband, was the gayest of the +gay among the gay people of London. On this occasion Mary was to +have gone with Lady Brabazon, who was related to the Germains, and +Lord George had arranged an escape for himself. They were to drive +out together, and when she went to her ball he would go to bed. But +in the course of the afternoon she told him that she was writing to +Lady Brabazon to decline. "Why won't you go?" said he.</p> + +<p>"I don't care about it."</p> + +<p>"If you mean that you won't go without me, of course I will go."</p> + +<p>"It isn't that exactly. Of course it is nicer if you go; though I +wouldn't take you if you don't like it. But——"</p> + +<p>"But what, dear?"<!-- Page 183 --></p> + +<p>"I think I'd rather not to-night. I don't know that I am quite +strong enough." Then he didn't say another word to press her,—only +begging that she would not go to the dinner either if she were not +well. But she was quite well, and she did go to the dinner.</p> + +<p>Again she had meant to tell him why she would not go to Mrs. +Jones's ball, but had been unable. Jack De Baron would be there, +and would want to know why she would not waltz. And Adelaide +Houghton would tease her about it, very likely before him. She had +always waltzed with him, and could not now refuse without some +reason. So she gave up her ball, sending word to say that she was +not very well. "I shouldn't at all wonder if he has kept her at home +because he's afraid of you," said Mrs. Houghton to her cousin.</p> + +<p>Late in the following afternoon, before her husband had come home +from his club, she told her father the whole story of her interview +with Miss Mildmay. "What a tiger," he said, when he had heard +it. "I have heard of women like that before, but I have never believed +in them."</p> + +<p>"You don't think she will tell him?"</p> + +<p>"What matter if she does? What astonishes me most is that a +woman should be so unwomanly as to fight for a man in such a way +as that. It is the sort of thing that men used to do. 'You must give +up your claim to that lady, or else you must fight me.' Now she comes +forward and says that she will fight you."</p> + +<p>"But, papa, I have no claim."</p> + +<p>"Nor probably has she?"</p> + +<p>"No; I'm sure she has not. But what does that matter? The +horrid thing is that she should say all this to me. I told her that she +couldn't know that I was married."</p> + +<p>"She merely wanted to make herself disagreeable. If one comes +across disagreeable people one has to bear with it. I suppose she was +jealous. She had seen you dancing or perhaps talking with the man."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes."</p> + +<p>"And in her anger she wanted to fly at some one."</p> + +<p>"It is not her I care about, papa."</p> + +<p>"What then?"</p> + +<p>"If she were to tell George."</p> + +<p>"What if she did? You do not mean to say that he would believe +her? You do not think that he is jealous?"</p> + +<p>She began to perceive that she could not get any available counsel +from her father unless she could tell him everything. She must +explain to him what evil Lady Susanna had already done; how her +sister-in-law had acted as duenna, and had dared to express a suspicion +about this very man. And she must tell him that Lord George +had desired her not to waltz, and had done so, as she believed, +because he had seen her waltzing with Jack De Baron. But all this +seemed to her to be impossible. There was nothing which she would<!-- Page 184 --> +not be glad that he knew, if only he could be made to know it all truly. +But she did not think that she could tell him what had really +happened; and were she to do so, there would be horrid doubts on +his mind. "You do not mean to say that he is given to that sort of +thing?" asked the Dean, again with a look of anger.</p> + +<p>"Oh no,—at least I hope not. Susanna did try to make mischief."</p> + +<p>"The d—— she did," said the Dean. Mary almost jumped in her +chair, she was so much startled by such a word from her father's +mouth. "If he's fool enough to listen to that old cat, he'll make +himself a miserable and a contemptible man. Did she say anything +to him about this very man?"</p> + +<p>"She said something very unpleasant to me, and of course I told +George."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"He was all that was kind. He declared that he had no objection +to make to Captain De Baron at all. I am sure there was no reason +why he should."</p> + +<p>"Tush!" exclaimed the Dean, as though any assurance or even +any notice of the matter in that direction were quite unnecessary. +"And there was an end of that?"</p> + +<p>"I think he is a little inclined to be—to be——"</p> + +<p>"To be what? You had better tell it all out, Mary."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps what you would call strict. He told me not to waltz +any more the other day."</p> + +<p>"He's a fool," said the Dean angrily.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, papa; don't say that. Of course he has a right to think +as he likes, and of course I am bound to do as he says."</p> + +<p>"He has no experience, no knowledge of the world. Perhaps one +of the last things which a man learns is to understand innocence when +he sees it." The word innocence was so pleasant to her that she put +out her hand and touched his knee. "Take no notice of what that +angry woman said to you. Above all, do not drop your acquaintance +with this gentleman. You should be too proud to be influenced in +any way by such scandal."</p> + +<p>"But if she were to speak to George?"</p> + +<p>"She will hardly dare. But if she does, that is no affair of yours. +You can have nothing to do with it till he shall speak to you."</p> + +<p>"You would not tell him?"</p> + +<p>"No; I should not even think about it. She is below your notice. +If it should be the case that she dares to speak to him, and that he +should be weak enough to be moved by what such a creature can say +to him, you will, I am sure, have dignity enough to hold your own +with him. Tell him that you think too much of his honour as well +of your own to make it necessary for him to trouble himself. But he +will know that himself, and if he does speak to you, he will speak only +in pity for her." All this he said slowly and seriously, looking as she<!-- Page 185 --> +had sometimes seen him look when preaching in the cathedral. And +she believed him now as she always believed him then, and was in a +great measure comforted.</p> + +<p>But she could not but be surprised that her father should so absolutely +refuse to entertain the idea that any intimacy between herself +and Captain De Baron should be injurious. It gratified her that it +should be so, but nevertheless she was surprised. She had endeavoured +to examine the question by her own lights, but had failed in answering +it. She knew well enough that she liked the man. She had discovered +in him the realization of those early dreams. His society was +in every respect pleasant to her. He was full of playfulness, and yet +always gentle. He was not very clever, but clever enough. She had +made the mistake in life,—or rather others had made it for her,—of +taking herself too soon from her playthings and devoting herself to +the stern reality of a husband. She understood something of this, +and liked to think that she might amuse herself innocently with such +a one as Jack De Baron. She was sure that she did not love him,—that +there was no danger of her loving him; and she was quite confident +also that he did not love her. But yet,—yet there had been a +doubt on her mind. Innocent as it all was, there might be cause of +offence to her husband. It was this thought that had made her sometimes +long to be taken away from London and be immured amidst the +dulness of Cross Hall. But of such dangers and of such fears her +father saw nothing. Her father simply bade her to maintain her +own dignity and have her own way. Perhaps her father was right.</p> + +<p>On the next day the Dean and his son-in-law went, according to +appointment, to Mr. Battle. Mr. Battle received them with his usual +bland courtesy, and listened attentively to whatever the two gentlemen +had to say. Lawyers who know their business always allow their +clients to run out their stories even when knowing that the words so +spoken are wasted words. It is the quickest way of arriving at their +desired result. Lord George had a good deal to say, because his mind +was full of the conviction that he would not for worlds put an obstacle +in the way of his brother's heir, if he could be made sure that the +child was the heir. He wished for such certainty, and cursed the +heavy chance that had laid so grievous a duty on his shoulders.</p> + +<p>When he had done, Mr. Battle began. "I think, Lord George, +that I have learned most of the particulars."</p> + +<p>Lord George started back in his chair. "What particulars?" said +the Dean.</p> + +<p>"The Marchioness's late husband,—for she doubtless is his Lordship's +wife,—was a lunatic."</p> + +<p>"A lunatic!" said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"We do not quite know when he died, but we believe it was about +a month or two before the date at which his Lordship wrote home to +say that he was about to be married."<!-- Page 186 --></p> + +<p>"Then that child cannot be Lord Popenjoy," said the Dean with +exultation.</p> + +<p>"That's going a little too fast, Mr. Dean. There may have been a +divorce."</p> + +<p>"There is no such thing in Roman Catholic countries," said the +Dean. "Certainly not in Italy."</p> + +<p>"I do not quite know," said the lawyer. "Of course we are as yet +very much in the dark. I should not wonder if we found that there +had been two marriages. All this is what we have got to find out. +The lady certainly lived in great intimacy with your brother before +her first husband died."</p> + +<p>"How do you know anything about it?" asked Lord George.</p> + +<p>"I happened to have heard the name of the Marchese Luigi, and +I knew where to apply for information."</p> + +<p>"We did not mean that any inquiry should be made so suddenly," +said Lord George angrily.</p> + +<p>"It was for the best," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"Certainly for the best," said the unruffled lawyer. "I would now +recommend that I may be commissioned to send out my own confidential +clerk to learn all the circumstances of the case; and that I +should inform Mr. Stokes that I am going to do so, on your instructions, +Lord George." Lord George shivered. "I think we should +even offer to give his Lordship time to send an agent with my clerk if +he pleases to do so, or to send one separately at the same time, or to +take any other step that he may please. It is clearly your duty, my +Lord, to have the inquiry made."</p> + +<p>"Your manifest duty," said the Dean, unable to restrain his +triumph.</p> + +<p>Lord George pleaded for delay, and before he left the lawyer's +chambers almost quarrelled with his father-in-law; but before he did +leave them he had given the necessary instructions.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">MR. HOUGHTON WANTS A GLASS OF SHERRY.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Lord George</span>, when he got out of the lawyer's office with his father-in-law, +expressed himself as being very angry at what had been done. +While discussing the matter within, in the presence of Mr. Battle, he +had been unable to withstand the united energies of the Dean and the +lawyer, but, nevertheless, even while he had yielded, he had felt that +he was being driven.</p> + +<p>"I don't think he was at all justified in making any inquiry," he +said, as soon as he found himself in the Square.<!-- Page 187 --></p> + +<p>"My dear George," replied the Dean, "the quicker this can be done +the better."</p> + +<p>"An agent should only act in accordance with his instructions."</p> + +<p>"Without disputing that, my dear fellow, I cannot but say that I +am glad to have learned so much."</p> + +<p>"And I am very sorry."</p> + +<p>"We both mean the same thing, George."</p> + +<p>"I don't think we do," said Lord George, who was determined to +be angry.</p> + +<p>"You are sorry that it should be so,—and so am I." The triumph +which had sat in the Dean's eye when he heard the news in the +lawyer's chambers almost belied this latter assertion. "But I certainly +am glad to be on the track as soon as possible, if there is a track which +it is our duty to follow."</p> + +<p>"I didn't like that man at all," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"I neither like him nor dislike him; but I believe him to be honest, +and I know him to be clever. He will find out the truth for us."</p> + +<p>"And when it turns out that Brotherton was legally married to the +woman, what will the world think of me then?"</p> + +<p>"The world will think that you have done your duty. There can +be no question about it, George. Whether it be agreeable or disagreeable, +it must be done. Could you have brought yourself to have +thrown the burden of doing this upon your own child, perhaps some +five-and-twenty years hence, when it may be done so much easier now +by yourself."</p> + +<p>"I have no child," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"But you will have." The Dean, as he said this, could not keep +himself from looking too closely into his son-in-law's face. He was +most anxious for the birth of that grandson who was to be made a +Marquis by his own energies.</p> + +<p>"God knows. Who can say?"</p> + +<p>"At any rate there is that child at Manor Cross. If he be not the +legitimate heir, is it not better for him that the matter should be +settled now than when he may have lived twenty years in expectation +of the title and property?" The Dean said much more than this, +urging the propriety of what had been done, but he did not succeed +in quieting Lord George's mind.</p> + +<p>That same day the Dean told the whole story to his daughter, perhaps +in his eagerness adding something to what he had heard from +the lawyer. "Divorces in Roman Catholic countries," he said, "are +quite impossible. I believe they are never granted, except for State +purposes. There may be some new civil law, but I don't think it; +and then, if the man was an acknowledged lunatic, it must have been +impossible."</p> + +<p>"But how could the Marquis be so foolish, papa?"</p> + +<p><a name="tn_pg_196"></a><!-- TN: single quote changed to double-->"Ah, that is what we do not understand. But it will come out.<!-- Page 188 --> +You may be sure it will all come out. Why did he come home to +England and bring them with him? And why just at this time? +Why did he not communicate his first marriage; and if not that, why +the second? He probably did not intend at first to put his child forward +as Lord Popenjoy, but has become subsequently bold. The +woman, perhaps, has gradually learned the facts and insisted on +making the claim for her child. She may gradually have become +stronger than he. He may have thought that by coming here and +declaring the boy to be his heir, he would put down suspicion by the +very boldness of his assertion. Who can say? But these are the facts, +and they are sufficient to justify us in demanding that everything shall +be brought to light." Then for the first time, he asked her what +immediate hope there was that Lord George might have an heir. She +tried to laugh, then blushed; then wept a tear or two, and muttered +something which he failed to hear. "There is time enough for all +that, Mary," he said, with his pleasantest smile, and then left her.</p> + +<p>Lord George did not return home till late in the afternoon. He +went first to Mrs. Houghton's house, and told her nearly everything. +But he told it in such a way as to make her understand that his +strongest feeling at the present moment was one of anger against the +Dean.</p> + +<p>"Of course, George," she said, for she always called him George +now,—"The Dean will try to have it all his own way."</p> + +<p>"I am almost sorry that I ever mentioned my brother's name to +him."</p> + +<p>"She, I suppose, is ambitious," said Mrs. Houghton. 'She,' was +intended to signify Mary.</p> + +<p>"No. To do Mary justice, it is not her fault. I don't think she +cares for it."</p> + +<p>"I dare say she would like to be a Marchioness as well as any one +else. I know I should."</p> + +<p>"You might have been," he said, looking tenderly into her face.</p> + +<p>"I wonder how I should have borne all this. You say that she is +indifferent. I should have been so anxious on your behalf,—to see +you installed in your rights!"</p> + +<p>"I have no rights. There is my brother."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but as the heir. She has none of the feeling about you that +I have, George." Then she put out her hand to him, which he took +and held. "I begin to think that I was wrong. I begin to know that +I was wrong. We could have lived at any rate."</p> + +<p>"It is too late," he said, still holding her hand.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—it is too late. I wonder whether you will ever understand +the sort of struggle which I had to go through, and the feeling of +duty which overcame me at last. Where should we have lived?"</p> + +<p>"At Cross Hall, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"And if there had been children, how should we have brought them<!-- Page 189 --> +up?" She did not blush as she asked the question, but he did. +"And yet I wish that I had been braver. I think I should have suited +you better than she."</p> + +<p>"She is as good as gold," he said, moved by a certain loyalty which, +though it was not sufficient absolutely to protect her from wrong, was +too strong to endure to hear her reproached.</p> + +<p>"Do not tell me of her goodness," said Mrs. Houghton, jumping up +from her seat. "I do not want to hear of her goodness. Tell me of +my goodness. Does she love you as I do? Does she make you the +hero of her thoughts? She has no idea of any hero. She would +think more of Jack De Baron whirling round the room with her than +of your position in the world, or of his, or even of her own." He +winced visibly when he heard Jack De Baron's name. "You need not +be afraid," she continued, "for though she is, as you say, as good as +gold, she knows nothing about love. She took you when you came +because it suited the ambition of the Dean,—as she would have taken +anything else that he provided for her."</p> + +<p>"I believe she loves me," he said, having in his heart of hearts, +at the moment, much more solicitude in regard to his absent wife than +to the woman who was close to his feet and was flattering him to the +top of his bent.</p> + +<p>"And her love, such as it is, is sufficient for you?"</p> + +<p>"She is my wife."</p> + +<p>"Yes; because I allowed it; because I thought it wrong to subject +your future life to the poverty which I should have brought with me. +Do you think there was no sacrifice then?"</p> + +<p>"But, Adelaide;—it is so."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is so. But what does it all mean? The time is gone by +when men, or women either, were too qualmish and too queasy to admit +the truth even to themselves. Of course you are married, and so am I; +but marriage does not alter the heart. I did not cease to love you +because I would not marry you. You could not cease to love me +merely because I refused you. When I acknowledged to myself that +Mr. Houghton's income was necessary to me, I did not become +enamoured of him. Nor I suppose did you when you found the same +as to Miss Lovelace's money."</p> + +<p>Upon this he also jumped up from his seat, and stood before her. "I +will not have even you say that I married my wife for her money."</p> + +<p>"How was it then, George? I am not blaming you for doing what +I did as well as you."</p> + +<p>"I should blame myself. I should feel myself to be degraded."</p> + +<p>"Why so? It seems to me that I am bolder than you. I can look +the cruelties of the world in the face, and declare openly how I will +meet them. I did marry Mr. Houghton for his money, and of course +he knew it. Is it to be supposed that he or any human being could +have thought that I married him for love? I make his house com<!-- Page 190 -->fortable +for him as far as I can, and am civil to his friends, and look +my best at his table. I hope he is satisfied with his bargain; but I +cannot do more. I cannot wear him in my heart. Nor, George, do I +believe that you in your heart can ever wear Mary Lovelace!" But he +did,—only that he thought that he had space there for two, and that +in giving habitation to this second love he was adding at any rate to +the excitements of his life. "Tell me, George," said the woman, +laying her hand upon his breast, "is it she or I that have a home +there?"</p> + +<p>"I will not say that I do not love my wife," he said.</p> + +<p>"No; you are afraid. The formalities of the world are so much +more to you than to me! Sit down, George. Oh, George!" Then +she was on her knees at his feet, hiding her face upon her hands, +while his arms were almost necessarily thrown over her and embracing +her. The lady was convulsed with sobs, and he was thinking how it +would be with him and her should the door be opened and some pair +of eyes see them as they were. But her ears were sharp in spite of +her sobs. There was the fall of a foot on the stairs which she heard +long before it reached him, and, in a moment, she was in her chair. +He looked at her, and there was no trace of a tear. "It's Houghton," +she said, putting her finger up to her mouth with almost a comic +gesture. There was a smile in her eyes, and a little mockery of fear +in the trembling of her hand and the motion of her lips. To him it +seemed to be tragic enough. He had to assume to this gentleman +whom he had been injuring a cordial friendly manner,—and thus to lie +to him. He had to make pretences, and at a moment's notice to +feign himself something very different from what he was. Had the +man come a little more quickly, had the husband caught him with the +wife at his knees, nothing could have saved him and his own wife +from utter misery. So he felt it to be, and the feeling almost overwhelmed +him. His heart palpitated with emotion as the wronged +husband's hand was on the door. She, the while, was as thoroughly +composed as a stage heroine. But she had flattered him and pretended +to love him, and it did not occur to him that he ought to be angry +with her. "Who would ever think of seeing you at this time of day?" +said Mrs. Houghton.</p> + +<p>"Well, no; I'm going back to the club in a few minutes. I had to +come up to Piccadilly to have my hair cut!"</p> + +<p>"Your hair cut!"</p> + +<p>"Honour bright! Nothing upsets me so much as having my hair +cut. I'm going to ring for a glass of sherry. By the bye, Lord +George, a good many of them are talking at the club about young +Popenjoy."</p> + +<p>"What are they saying?" Lord George felt that he must open his +mouth, but did not wish to talk to this man, and especially did not +wish to talk about his own affairs.<!-- Page 191 --></p> + +<p>"Of course I know nothing about it; but surely the way Brotherton +has come back is very odd. I used to be very fond of your brother, +you know. There was nobody her father used to swear by so much +as him. But, by George, I don't know what to make of it now. +Nobody has seen the Marchioness!"</p> + +<p>"I have not seen her," said Lord George; "but she is there all +the same for that."</p> + +<p>"Nobody doubts that she's there. She's there, safe enough. And +the boy is there too. We're all quite sure of that. But you know the +Marquis of Brotherton is somebody."</p> + +<p>"I hope so," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"And when he brings his wife home people will expect,—will +expect to know something about it;—eh?" All this was said with an +intention of taking Lord George's part in a question which was already +becoming one of interest to the public. It was hinted here and there +that there was "a screw loose" about this young Popenjoy, who had +just been brought from Italy, and that Lord George would have to +look to it. Of course they who were connected with Brothershire +were more prone to talk of it than others, and Mr. Houghton, who +had heard and said a good deal about it, thought that he was only +being civil to Lord George in seeming to take part against the +Marquis.</p> + +<p>But Lord George felt it to be matter of offence that any outsider +should venture to talk about his family. "If people would only +confine themselves to subjects with which they are acquainted, it +would be very much better," he said;—and then almost immediately +took his leave.</p> + +<p>"That's all regular nonsense, you know," Mr. Houghton said as +soon as he was alone with his wife. "Of course people are talking +about it. Your father says that Brotherton must be mad."</p> + +<p>"That's no reason why you should come and tell Lord George what +people say. You never have any tact."</p> + +<p>"Of course I'm wrong; I always am," said the husband, swallowing +his glass of sherry and then taking his departure.</p> + +<p>Lord George was now in a very uneasy state of mind. He intended +to be cautious,—had intended even to be virtuous and self-denying; +and yet, in spite of his intentions, he had fallen into such a condition +of things with Mr. Houghton's wife, that were the truth to be +known, he would be open to most injurious proceedings. To +him the love affair with another man's wife was more embarrassing +even than pleasant. Its charm did not suffice to lighten for him the +burden of the wickedness. He had certain inklings of complaint in +his own mind against his own wife, but he felt that his own hands +should be perfectly clean before he could deal with those inklings +magisterially and maritally. How would he look were she to turn +upon him and ask him as to his own conduct with Adelaide Houghton?<!-- Page 192 --> +And then into what a sea of trouble had he not already fallen in this +matter of his brother's marriage? His first immediate duty was that +of writing to his elder sister, and he expressed himself to her in strong +language. After telling her all that he had heard from the lawyer, he +spoke of himself and of the Dean. "It will make me very unhappy," +he wrote. "Do you remember what Hamlet says:</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 40%; font-size:.9em;">'O, cursed spite,</span><br> +<span style="margin-left: 30%; font-size:.9em;">That ever I was born to set it right!'</span> +</p> + +<p><a name="tn_pg_201"></a><!-- TN: quotation added here-->"I feel like that altogether. I want to get nothing by it. No man +ever less begrudged to his elder brother than I do all that belongs to +him. Though he has himself treated me badly, I would support him +in anything for the sake of the family. At this moment I most heartily +wish that the child may be Lord Popenjoy. The matter will destroy +all my happiness perhaps for the next ten years;—perhaps for ever. +And I cannot but think that the Dean has interfered in a most unjustifiable +manner. He drives me on, so that I almost feel that I shall be +forced to quarrel with him. With him it is manifestly personal ambition, +and not duty." There was much more of it in the same strain, +but at the same time an acknowledgment that he had now instructed +the Dean's lawyer to make the inquiry.</p> + +<p>Lady Sarah's answer was perhaps more judicious; and as it was +shorter it shall be given entire.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<div class="start"> +<span class="letterstart">"Cross Hall, May 10, 187—.<br></span> +</div> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear George</span>,—Of course it is a sad thing to us all that this +terrible inquiry should be forced upon us;—and more grievous to you +than to us, as you must take the active part in it. But this is a manifest +duty, and duties are seldom altogether pleasant. All that you +say as to yourself,—which I know to be absolutely true,—must at any +rate make your conscience clear in the matter. It is not for your sake +nor for our sake that this is to be done, but for the sake of the family +at large, and to prevent the necessity of future lawsuits which would +be ruinous to the property. If the child be legitimate, let that, in +God's name, be proclaimed so loud that no one shall hereafter be able +to cast a doubt upon the fact. To us it must be matter of deepest +sorrow that our brother's child and the future head of our family +should have been born under circumstances which, at the best, must +still be disgraceful. But, although that is so, it will be equally our +duty to acknowledge his rights to the full, if they be his rights. +Though the son of the widow of a lunatic foreigner, still if the law +says that he is Brotherton's heir, it is for us to render the difficulties +in his way as light as possible. But that we may do so, we must know +what he is.</p> + +<p>"Of course you find the Dean to be pushing and perhaps a little +vulgar. No doubt with him the chief feeling is one of personal ambi<!-- Page 193 -->tion. +But in his way he is wise, and I do not know that in this +matter he has done anything which had better have been left <a name="tn_pg_202"></a><!-- TN: comma changed to period-->undone. +He believes that the child is not legitimate;—and so in my heart +do I.</p> + +<p>"You must remember that my dear mother is altogether on Brotherton's +side. The feeling that there should be an heir is so much to +her, and the certainty that the boy is at any rate her grandson, that +she cannot endure that a doubt should be expressed. Of course this +does not tend to make our life pleasant down here. Poor dear mamma! +Of course we do all we can to comfort her.</p> + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature2">"Your affectionate sister,<br></span> +<span class="smcap presignature3">"Sarah Germain."<br></span> +</div> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">THE DEAN IS VERY BUSY.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">A week</span> had passed away and nothing had as yet been heard from the +Marquis, nor had Mr. Battle's confidential clerk as yet taken his departure +for Italy, when Mrs. Montacute Jones called one day in +Munster Court. Lady George had not seen her new old friend since +the night of the ball to which she had not gone, but had received more +than one note respecting her absence on that occasion, and various +other little matters. Why did not Lady George come and lunch; and +why did not Lady George come and drive? Lady George was a little +afraid that there was a conspiracy about her in reference to Captain +De Baron, and that Mrs. Montacute Jones was one of the conspirators. +If so Adelaide Houghton was certainly another. It had been +very pleasant. When she examined herself about this man, as she +endeavoured to do, she declared that it had been as innocent as pleasant. +She did not really believe that either Adelaide Houghton or +Mrs. Montacute Jones had intended to do mischief. Mischief, such as +the alienation of her own affections from her husband, she regarded as +quite out of the question. She would not even admit to herself that +it was possible that she should fall into such a pit as that. But there +were other dangers; and those friends of hers would indeed be dangerous +if they brought her into any society that made her husband +jealous. Therefore, though she liked Mrs. Montacute Jones very +much, she had avoided the old lady lately, knowing that something +would be said about Jack De Baron, and not quite confident as to her +own answers.</p> + +<p>And now Mrs. Montacute Jones had come to her. "My dear Lady +<a name="tn_pg_202a"></a><!-- TN: end quote added-->George," she said, "where on earth have you been? Are you going to +cut me? If so, tell me at once."<!-- Page 194 --></p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs. Jones," said Lady George, kissing her, "how can you +ask such a question?"</p> + +<p>"Because you know it requires two to play at that game, and I'm +not going to be cut." Mrs. Montacute Jones was a stout built but +very short old lady, with grey hair curled in precise rolls down her +face, with streaky cheeks, giving her a look of extreme good health, +and very bright grey eyes. She was always admirably dressed, so well +dressed that her enemies accused her of spending enormous sums on +her toilet. She was very old,—some people said eighty, adding probably +not more than ten years to her age,—very enthusiastic, particularly +in reference to her friends; very fond of gaiety, and very +charitable. "Why didn't you come to my ball?"</p> + +<p>"Lord George doesn't care about balls," said Mary, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Come, come! Don't try and humbug me. It had been all arranged +that you should come when he went to bed. Hadn't it now?"</p> + +<p>"Something had been said about it."</p> + +<p>"A good deal had been said about it, and he had agreed. Are you +going to tell me that he won't go out with you, and yet dislikes your +going out without him? Is he such a Bluebeard as that?"</p> + +<p>"He's not a Bluebeard at all, Mrs. Jones."</p> + +<p>"I hope not. There has been something about that German +Baroness;—hasn't there?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear no."</p> + +<p>"I heard that there was. She came and took you and the brougham +all about London. And there was a row with Lady Selina. I heard +of it."</p> + +<p>"But that had nothing to do with my going to your party."</p> + +<p>"Well, no; why should it? She's a nasty woman, that Baroness +Banmann. If we can't get on here in England without German +Baronesses and American she doctors, we are in a bad way. You +shouldn't have let them drag you into that lot. Women's rights! +Women are quite able to hold their own without such trash as that. I'm +told she's in debt everywhere, and can't pay a shilling. I hope they'll +lock her up."</p> + +<p>"She is nothing to me, Mrs. Jones."</p> + +<p>"I hope not. What was it then? I know there was something. +He doesn't object to Captain De Baron; does he?"</p> + +<p>"Object to him! Why should he object to Captain De Baron?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know why. Men do take such fancies into their heads. +You are not going to give up dancing;—are you?"</p> + +<p>"Not altogether. I'm not sure that I care for it very much."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lady George; where do you expect to go to?" Mary could +not keep herself from laughing, though she was at the same time +almost inclined to be angry with the old lady's interference. "I +should have said that I didn't know a young person in the world +fonder of dancing than you are. Perhaps he objects to it."<!-- Page 195 --></p> + +<p>"He doesn't like my waltzing," said Mary, with a blush. On former +occasions she had almost made up her mind to confide her troubles to +this old woman, and now the occasion seemed so suitable that she +could not keep herself from telling so much as that.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Mrs. Montacute Jones. "That's it! I knew there +was something. My dear, he's a goose, and you ought to tell him so."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't you tell him," said Mary, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Would do it in half a minute, and think nothing of it!"</p> + +<p>"Pray, don't. He wouldn't like it at all."</p> + +<p>"My dear, you shouldn't be afraid of him. I'm not going to preach +up rebellion against husbands. I'm the last woman in London to do +that. I know the comfort of a quiet house as well as any one, and +that two people can't get along easy together unless there is a good +deal of give and take. But it doesn't do to give up everything. What +does he say about it?"</p> + +<p>"He says he doesn't like it."</p> + +<p>"What would he say if you told him you didn't like his going to +his club."</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't go."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! It's being a dog in the manger, because he doesn't +care for it himself. I should have it out with him,—nicely and pleasantly. +Just tell him that you're fond of it, and ask him to change +his mind. I can't bear anybody interfering to put down the innocent +pleasures of young people. A man like that just opens his mouth and +speaks a word, and takes away the whole pleasure of a young woman's +season! You've got my card for the 10th of June?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes,—I've got it."</p> + +<p>"And I shall expect you to come. It's only going to be a small +affair. Get him to bring you if you can, and you do as I bid you. +Just have it out with him,—nicely and quietly. Nobody hates a row +so much as I do, but people oughtn't to be trampled on."</p> + +<p>All this had considerable effect upon Lady George. She quite agreed +with Mrs. Jones that people ought not to be trampled on. Her father +had never trampled on her. From him there had been very little positive +ordering as to what she might and what she might not do. And +yet she had been only a child when living with her father. Now she +was a married woman, and the mistress of her own house. She was +quite sure that were she to ask her father, the Dean would say that +such a prohibition as this was absurd. Of course she could not ask +her father. She would not appeal from her husband to him. But it +was a hardship, and she almost made up her mind that she would +request him to revoke the order.</p> + +<p>Then she was very much troubled by a long letter from the Baroness +Banmann. The Baroness was going to bring an action jointly against +Lady Selina Protest and Miss Mildmay, whom the reader will know as +Aunt Ju; and informed Lady George that she was to be summoned<!-- Page 196 --> +as a witness. This was for a while a grievous affliction to her. "I +know nothing about it," she said to her husband, "I only just went +there once because Miss Mildmay asked me."</p> + +<p>"It was a very foolish thing for her to do."</p> + +<p>"And I was foolish, perhaps; but what can I say about it? I don't +know anything."</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't have bought those other tickets."</p> + +<p>"How could I refuse when the woman asked for such a trifle?"</p> + +<p>"Then you took her to Miss Mildmay's."</p> + +<p>"She would get into the brougham, and I couldn't get rid of her. +Hadn't I better write and tell her that I know nothing about it?" But to +this Lord George objected, requesting her altogether to hold her +peace on the subject, and never even to speak about it to anyone. He +was not good humoured with her, and this was clearly no occasion for +asking him about the waltzing. Indeed, just at present he rarely +was in a good humour, being much troubled in his mind on the great +Popenjoy question.</p> + +<p>At this time the Dean was constantly up in town, running backwards +and forwards between London and Brotherton, prosecuting his +enquiry and spending a good deal of his time at Mr. Battle's offices. +In doing all this he by no means acted in perfect concert with Lord +George, nor did he often stay or even dine at the house in Munster +Court. There had been no quarrel, but he found that Lord George +was not cordial with him, and therefore placed himself at the hotel in +Suffolk Street. "Why doesn't papa come here as he is in town?" +Mary said to her husband.</p> + +<p>"I don't know why he comes to town at all," replied her husband.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he comes because he has business, or because he likes +it. I shouldn't think of asking why he comes; but as he is here, I +wish he wouldn't stay at a nasty dull hotel after all that was arranged."</p> + +<p>"You may be sure he knows what he likes best," said Lord George +sulkily. That allusion to "an arrangement" had not served to put +him in a good humour.</p> + +<p>Mary had known well why her father was so much in London, and +had in truth known also why he did not come to Munster Court. She +could perceive that her father and husband were drifting into unfriendly +relations, and greatly regretted it. In her heart she took her +father's part. She was not keen as he was in this matter of the little +Popenjoy, being restrained by a feeling that it would not become her to +be over anxious for her own elevation or for the fall of others; but +she had always sympathised with her father in everything, and therefore +she sympathised with him in this. And then there was gradually growing +upon her a conviction that her father was the stronger man of the +two, the more reasonable, and certainly the kinder. She had thoroughly +understood when the house was furnished, very much at the Dean's<!-- Page 197 --> +expense, that he was to be a joint occupant in it when it might suit +him to be in London. He himself had thought less about this, having +rather submitted to the suggestion as an excuse for his own liberality +than contemplated any such final arrangement. But Lord George remembered +it. The house would certainly be open to him should he +choose to come;—but Lord George would not press it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Stokes had thought it proper to go in person to Manor Cross, +in order that he might receive instructions from the Marquis. "Upon +my word, Mr. Stokes," said the Marquis, "only that I would not +seem to be uncourteous to you I should feel disposed to say that this +interview can do no good."</p> + +<p>"It is a very serious matter, my Lord."</p> + +<p>"It is a very serious annoyance, certainly, that my own brother and +sisters should turn against me, and give me all this trouble because I +have chosen to marry a foreigner. It is simply an instance of that +pigheaded English blindness which makes us think that everything +outside our own country is or ought to be given up to the devil. My +sisters are very religious, and, I daresay, very good women. But they +are quite willing to think that I and my wife ought to be damned +because we talk Italian, and that my son ought to be disinherited +because he was not baptised in an English church. They have got +this stupid story into their heads, and they must do as they please +about it. I will have no hand in it. I will take care that there shall +be no difficulty in my son's way when I die."</p> + +<p>"That will be right, of course, my Lord."</p> + +<p>"I know where all this comes from. My brother, who is an idiot, +has married the daughter of a vulgar clergyman, who thinks in his +ignorance that he can make his grandson, if he has one, an English +nobleman. He'll spend his money and he'll burn his fingers, and I +don't care how much money he spends or how much he burns his +hands. I don't suppose his purse is so very long but that he may come +to the bottom of it." This was nearly all that passed between Mr. +Stokes and the Marquis. Mr. Stokes then went back to town and +gave Mr. Battle to understand that nothing was to be done on their +side.</p> + +<p>The Dean was very anxious that the confidential clerk should be +dispatched, and at one time almost thought that he would go himself. +"Better not, Mr. Dean. Everybody would know," said Mr. Battle.</p> + +<p>"And I should intend everybody to know," said the Dean. "Do +you suppose that I am doing anything that I'm ashamed of."</p> + +<p>"But being a dignitary——" began Mr. Battle.</p> + +<p>"What has that to do with it? A dignitary, as you call it, is not +to see his child robbed of her rights. I only want to find the truth, +and I should never take shame to myself in looking for that by honest +means." But Mr. Battle prevailed, persuading the Dean that the +confidential clerk, even though he confined himself to honest means,<!-- Page 198 --> +would reach his point more certainly than a Dean of the Church of +England.</p> + +<p>But still there was delay. Mr. Stokes did not take his journey +down to Brotherton quite as quickly as he perhaps might have done, +and then there was a prolonged correspondence carried on through an +English lawyer settled at Leghorn. But at last the man was sent. +"I think we know this," said Mr. Battle to the Dean on the day +before the man started, "there were certainly two marriages. One of +them took place as much as five years ago, and the other after his +lordship had written to his brother."</p> + +<p>"Then the first marriage must have been nothing," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"It does not follow. It may have been a legal marriage, although +the parties chose to confirm it by a second ceremony."</p> + +<p>"But when did the man Luigi die?"</p> + +<p>"And where and how? That is what we have got to find out. +I shouldn't wonder if we found that he had been for years a lunatic."</p> + +<p>Almost all this the Dean communicated to Lord George, being determined +that his son-in-law should be seen to act in co-operation with +him. They met occasionally in Mr. Battle's chambers, and sometimes +by appointment in Munster Court. "It is essentially necessary +that you should know what is being done," said the Dean to his son-in-law. +Lord George fretted and fumed, and expressed an opinion +that as the matter had been put into a lawyer's hands it had better be +left there. But the Dean had very much his own way.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">THE MARQUIS MIGRATES TO LONDON.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Soon</span> after Mr. Stokes' visit there was a great disturbance at Manor +Cross, whether caused or not by that event no one was able to say. The +Marquis and all the family were about to proceed to London. The +news first reached Cross Hall through Mrs. Toff, who still kept up +friendly relations with a portion of the English establishment at the +great house. There probably was no idea of maintaining a secret on +the subject. The Marquis and his wife, with Lord Popenjoy and the +servants, could not have had themselves carried up to town without +the knowledge of all Brotherton, nor was there any adequate reason +for supposing that secrecy was desired. Nevertheless Mrs. Toff made a +great deal of the matter, and the ladies at Cross Hall were not without +a certain perturbed interest as though in a mystery. It was first +told to Lady Sarah, for Mrs. Toff was quite aware of the position of +things, and knew that the old Marchioness herself was not to be regarded<!-- Page 199 --> +as being on their side. "Yes, my Lady, it's quite true," said Mrs. Toff. +"The horses is ordered for next Friday." This was said on the previous +Saturday, so that considerable time was allowed for the elucidation +of the mystery. "And the things is already being packed, and +her Ladyship,—that is, if she is her Ladyship,—is taking every dress +and every rag as she brought with her."</p> + +<p>"Where are they going to, Toff?—Not to the Square?" Now the +Marquis of Brotherton had an old family house in Cavendish Square, +which, however, had been shut up for the last ten or fifteen years, +but was still known as the family house by all the adherents of the +family.</p> + +<p>"No, my Lady. I did hear from one of the servants that they are +going to Scumberg's Hotel, in Albemarle Street."</p> + +<p>Then Lady Sarah told the news to her mother. The poor old lady +felt that she was ill-used. She had been at any rate true to her eldest +son, had always taken his part during his absence by scolding her +daughters whenever an allusion was made to the family at Manor +Cross, and had almost worshipped him when he would come to her +on Sunday. And now he was going off to London without saying a +word to her of the journey. "I don't believe that Toff knows anything +about <a name="tn_pg_208"></a><!-- TN: period changed to a comma here-->it," she said. "Toff is a nasty, meddling creature, and I +wish she had not come here at all." The management of the Marchioness +under these circumstances was very difficult, but Lady Sarah was a +woman who allowed no difficulty to crush her. She did not expect +the world to be very easy. She went on with her constant needle, +trying to comfort her mother as she worked. At this time the Marchioness +had almost brought herself to quarrel with her younger son, +and would say very hard things about him and about the Dean. She +had more than once said that Mary was a "nasty sly thing," and had +expressed herself as greatly aggrieved by that marriage. All this +came of course from the Marquis, and was known by her daughters to +come from the Marquis; and yet the Marchioness had never as yet +been allowed to see either her daughter-in-law or Popenjoy.</p> + +<p>On the following day her son came to her when the three sisters +were at church in the afternoon. On these occasions he would stay +for a quarter of an hour, and would occupy the greater part of the time +in abusing the Dean and Lord George. But on this day she could not +refrain from asking him a question. "Are you going up to London, +Brotherton?"</p> + +<p>"What makes you ask?"</p> + +<p>"Because they tell me so. Sarah says that the servants are talking +about it."</p> + +<p>"I wish Sarah had something to do better than listening to the +servants?"</p> + +<p>"But you are going?"</p> + +<p>"If you want to know, I believe we shall go up to town for a few<!-- Page 200 --> +days. Popenjoy ought to see a dentist, and I want to do a few +things. Why the deuce shouldn't I go up to London as well as any +one else?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, if you wish it."</p> + +<p>"To tell you the truth, I don't much wish anything, except to get +out of this cursed country again."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, Brotherton. You are an Englishman."</p> + +<p>"I am ashamed to say I am. I wish with all my heart that I had +been born a Chinese or a Red Indian." This he said, not in furtherance +of any peculiar cosmopolitan proclivities, but because the saying +of it would vex his mother. "What am I to think of the country, +when the moment I get here I am hounded by all my own family +because I choose to live after my own fashion and not after theirs?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't hounded you."</p> + +<p>"No. You might possibly get more by being on good terms with +me than bad. And so might they if they knew it. I'll be even with +Master George before I've done with him; and I'll be even with that +parson, too, who still smells of the stables. I'll lead him a dance that +will about ruin him. And as for his daughter——"</p> + +<p>"It wasn't I got up the marriage, Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"I don't care who got it up. But I can have enquiries made as +well as another person. I am not very fond of spies; but if other +people use spies, so can I too. That young woman is no better than +she ought to be. The Dean, I daresay, knows it; but he shall know +that I know it. And Master George shall know what I think about +it. As there is to be war, he shall know what it is to have war. She +has got a lover of her own already, and everybody who knows them +is talking about it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Brotherton!"</p> + +<p>"And she is going in for women's rights! George has made a nice +thing of it for himself. He has to live on the Dean's money, so that +he doesn't dare to call his soul his own. And yet he's fool enough to +send a lawyer to me to tell me that my wife is a ——, and my son +a ——!" He made use of very plain language, so that the poor old +woman was horrified and aghast and dumbfounded. And as he spoke +the words there was a rage in his eyes worse than anything she had +seen before. He was standing with his back to the fire, which was +burning though the weather was warm, and the tails of his coat were +hanging over his arms as he kept his hands in his pockets. He was +generally quiescent in his moods, and apt to express his anger in +sarcasm rather than in outspoken language; but now he was so much +moved that he was unable not to give vent to his feelings. As the +Marchioness looked at him, shaking with fear, there came into her +distracted mind some vague idea of Cain and Abel, though had she +collected her thoughts she would have been far from telling herself +that her eldest son was Cain. "He thinks," continued the Marquis,<!-- Page 201 --> +"that because I have lived abroad I shan't mind that sort of thing. +I wonder how he'll feel when I tell him the truth about his wife. I +mean to do it;—and what the Dean will think when I use a little +plain language about his daughter. I mean to do that too. I shan't +mince matters. I suppose you have heard of Captain De Baron, +mother?"</p> + +<p>Now the Marchioness unfortunately had heard of Captain De Baron. +Lady Susanna had brought the tidings down to Cross Hall. Had Lady +Susanna really believed that her sister-in-law was wickedly entertaining +a lover, there would have been some reticence in her mode of +alluding to so dreadful a subject. The secret would have been confided +to Lady Sarah in awful conclave, and some solemn warning +would have been conveyed to Lord George, with a prayer that he +would lose no time in withdrawing the unfortunate young woman +from evil influences. But Lady Susanna had entertained no such +fear. Mary was young, and foolish, and fond of pleasure. Hard as +was this woman in her manner, and disagreeable as she made herself, +yet she could, after a fashion, sympathise with the young wife. She +had spoken of Captain De Baron with disapprobation certainly, but +had not spoken of him as a fatal danger. And she had spoken also of +the Baroness Banmann and Mary's folly in going to the Institute. +The old Marchioness had heard of these things, and now, when she +heard further of them from her son, she almost believed all that he +told her. "Don't be hard upon poor George," she said.</p> + +<p>"I give as I get, mother. I'm not one of those who return good +for evil. Had he left me alone, I should have left him alone. As it +is, I rather think I shall be hard upon poor George. Do you suppose +that all Brotherton hasn't heard already what they are doing;—that +there is a man or a woman in the county who doesn't know that my +own brother is questioning the legitimacy of my own son? And then +you ask me not to be hard."</p> + +<p>"It isn't my doing, Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"But those three girls have their hand in it. That's what they call +charity! That's what they go to church for!"</p> + +<p>All this made the poor old Marchioness very ill. Before her son +left her she was almost prostrate; and yet, to the end, he did not spare +her. But as he left he said one word which apparently was intended +to comfort her. "Perhaps Popenjoy had better be brought here for +you to see before he is taken up to town." There had been a promise +made before that the child should be brought to the hall to bless his +grandmother. On this occasion she had been too much horrified +and overcome by what had been said to urge her request; but when +the proposition was renewed by him of course she assented.</p> + +<p>Popenjoy's visit to Cross Hall was arranged with a good deal of +state, and was made on the following Tuesday. On the Monday there +came a message to say that the child should be brought up at twelve<!-- Page 202 --> +on the following day. The Marquis was not coming himself, and the +child would of course be inspected by all the ladies. At noon they were +assembled in the drawing-room; but they were kept there waiting for +half an hour, during which the Marchioness repeatedly expressed her +conviction that now, at the last moment, she was to be robbed of the +one great desire of her heart. "He won't let him come because he's +so angry with George," she said, sobbing.</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't have sent a message yesterday, mother," said Lady +Amelia, "if he hadn't meant to send him."</p> + +<p>"You are all so very unkind to him," ejaculated the Marchioness.</p> + +<p>But at half-past twelve the cortège appeared. The child was +brought up in a perambulator which had at first been pushed by the +under-nurse, an Italian, and accompanied by the upper-nurse, who +was of course an Italian also. With them had been sent one of the +Englishmen to show the way. Perhaps the two women had been +somewhat ill-treated, as no true idea of the distance had been conveyed +to them; and though they had now been some weeks at Manor +Cross, they had never been half so far from the house. Of course the +labour of the perambulator had soon fallen to the man; but the two +nurses, who had been forced to walk a mile, had thought that they +would never come to the end of their journey. When they did arrive +they were full of plaints, which, however, no one could understand. +But Popenjoy was at last brought into the hall.</p> + +<p>"My darling," said the Marchioness, putting out both her arms. +But Popenjoy, though a darling, screamed frightfully beneath his heap +of clothes.</p> + +<p>"You had better let him come into the room, mamma," said Lady +Susanna. Then the nurse carried him in, and one or two of his outer +garments were taken from him.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, how black he is!" said Lady Susanna.</p> + +<p>The Marchioness turned upon her daughter in great anger. "The +Germains were always dark," she said. "You're dark yourself,—quite +as black as he is. My darling!"</p> + +<p>She made another attempt to take the boy; but the nurse with +voluble eloquence explained something which of course none of them +understood. The purport of her speech was an assurance that "Tavo," +as she most unceremoniously called the child whom no Germain +thought of naming otherwise than as Popenjoy, never would go to +any "foreigner." The nurse therefore held him up to be looked at +for two minutes while he still screamed, and then put him back into +his covering raiments. "He is very black," said Lady Sarah severely.</p> + +<p>"So are some people's hearts," said the Marchioness with a vigour +for which her daughters had hardly given her credit. This, however, +was borne without a murmur by the three sisters.</p> + +<p>On the Friday the whole family, including all the Italian servants, +migrated to London, and it certainly was the case that the lady took<!-- Page 203 --> +with her all her clothes and everything that she had brought with her. +Toff had been quite right, there. And when it came to be known by +the younger ladies at Cross Hall that Toff had been right, they argued +from the fact that their brother had concealed something of the truth +when saying that he intended to go up to London only for a few days. +There had been three separate carriages, and Toff was almost sure +that the Italian lady had carried off more than she had brought with +her, so exuberant had been the luggage. It was not long before Toff +effected an entrance into the house, and brought away a report that +very many things were missing. "The two little gilt cream-jugs is +gone," she said to Lady Sarah, "and the minitshur with the pearl +settings out of the yellow drawing-room!" Lady Sarah explained +that as these things were the property of her brother, he or his wife +might of course take them away if so pleased. "She's got 'em unbeknownst +to my Lord, my Lady," said Toff, shaking her head. "I could +only just scurry through with half an eye; but when I comes to look +there will be more, I warrant you, my Lady."</p> + +<p>The Marquis had expressed so much vehement dislike of everything +about his English home, and it had become so generally understood +that his Italian wife hated the place, that everybody agreed that they +would not come back. Why should they? What did they get by +living there? The lady had not been outside the house a dozen times, +and only twice beyond the park gate. The Marquis took no share in +any county or any country pursuit. He went to no man's house and +received no visitors. He would not see the tenants when they came +to him, and had not even returned a visit except Mr. De Baron's. Why +had he come there at all? That was the question which all the Brothershire +people asked of each other, and which no one could answer. +Mr. Price suggested that it was just devilry,—to make everybody unhappy. +Mrs. Toff thought that it was the woman's doing,—because +she wanted to steal silver mugs, miniatures, and such like treasures. +Mr. Waddy, the vicar of the parish, said that it was "a trial," having +probably some idea in his own mind that the Marquis had been sent +home by Providence as a sort of precious blister which would purify +all concerned in him by counter irritation. The old Marchioness +still conceived that it had been brought about that a grandmother +might take delight in the presence of her grandchild. Dr. Pountner +said that it was impudence. But the Dean was of opinion that it had +been deliberately planned with the view of passing off a supposititious +child upon the property and title. The Dean, however, kept his opinion +very much to himself.</p> + +<p>Of course tidings of the migration were sent to Munster Court. +Lady Sarah wrote to her brother, and the Dean wrote to his daughter. +"What shall you do, George? Shall you go and see him?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what I shall do?"</p> + +<p>"Ought I to go?"<!-- Page 204 --></p> + +<p>"Certainly not. You could only call on her, and she has not even +seen my mother and sisters. When I was there he would not introduce +me to her, though he sent for the child. I suppose I had better +go. I do not want to quarrel with him if I can help it."</p> + +<p>"You have offered to do everything together with him, if only he +would let you."</p> + +<p>"I must say that your father has driven me on in a manner which +Brotherton would be sure to resent."</p> + +<p>"Papa has done everything from a sense of duty, George."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so. I don't know how that is. It is very hard sometimes +to divide a sense of duty from one's own interest. But it has made +me very miserable,—very wretched, indeed."</p> + +<p>"Oh George; is it my fault?"</p> + +<p>"No; not your fault. If there is one thing worse to me than +another, it is the feeling of being divided from my own family. +Brotherton has behaved badly to me."</p> + +<p>"Very badly."</p> + +<p>"And yet I would give anything to be on good terms with him. I +think I shall go and call. He is at an hotel in Albemarle Street. I +have done nothing to deserve ill of him, if he knew all."</p> + +<p>It should, of course, be understood that Lord George did not at all +know the state of his brother's mind towards him, except as it had +been exhibited at that one interview which had taken place between +them at Manor Cross. He was aware that in every conversation +which he had had with the lawyers,—both with Mr. Battle and Mr. +Stokes,—he had invariably expressed himself as desirous of establishing +the legitimacy of the boy's birth. If Mr. Stokes had repeated to +his brother what he had said, and had done him the justice of explaining +that in all that he did he was simply desirous of performing his +duty to the family, surely his brother would not be angry with him! +At any rate it would not suit him to be afraid of his brother, and he +went to the hotel. After being kept waiting in the hall for about ten +minutes, the Italian courier came down to him. The Marquis at the +present moment was not dressed, and Lord George did not like being +kept waiting. Would Lord George call at three o'clock on the following +day. Lord George said that he would, and was again at Scumberg's +Hotel at three o'clock on the next afternoon.<!-- Page 205 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">LORD GEORGE IS TROUBLED.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">This</span> was a day of no little importance to Lord George; so much so, +that one or two circumstances which occurred before he saw his +brother at the hotel must be explained. On that day there had come +to him from the Dean a letter written in the Dean's best humour. +When the house had been taken in Munster Court there had been a +certain understanding, hardly quite a fixed assurance, that it was to be +occupied up to the end of June, and that then Lord George and his +wife should go into Brothershire. There had been a feeling ever +since the marriage that while Mary preferred London, Lord George +was wedded to the country. They had on the whole behaved well to +each other in the matter. The husband, though he feared that his +wife was surrounded by dangers, and was well aware that he himself +was dallying on the brink of a terrible pitfall, would not urge a retreat +before the time that had been named. And she, though she had ever +before her eyes the fear of the dullness of Cross Hall, would not ask +to have the time postponed. It was now the end of May, and a certain +early day in July had been fixed for their retreat from London. Lord +George had, with a good grace, promised to spend a few days at the +deanery before he went to Cross Hall, and had given Mary permission +to remain there for some little time afterwards. Now there had come +a letter from the Dean full of smiles and pleasantness about this visit. +There were tidings in it about Mary's horse, which was still kept at the +deanery, and comfortable assurances of sweetest welcome. Not a word +had been said in this letter about the terrible family matter. Lord +George, though he was at the present moment not disposed to think in +the most kindly manner of his father-in-law, appreciated this, and +had read the letter aloud to his wife at the breakfast table with +pleasant approbation. As he left the house to go to his brother, he +told her that she had better answer her father's letter, and had explained +to her where she would find it in his dressing room.</p> + +<p>But on the previous afternoon he had received at his club another +letter, the nature of which was not so agreeable. This letter had not +been pleasant even to himself, and certainly was not adapted to give +pleasure to his wife. After receiving it he had kept it in the close +custody of his breast-pocket; and when, as he left the house, he sent +his wife to find that which had come from her father, he certainly +thought that this prior letter was at the moment secure from all eyes +within the sanctuary of his coat. But it was otherwise. With that +negligence to which husbands are so specially subject, he had made the +Dean's letter safe next to his bosom, but had left the other epistle +unguarded. He had not only left it unguarded, but had absolutely so<!-- Page 206 --> +put his wife on the track of it that it was impossible that she should +not read it.</p> + +<p>Mary found the letter and did read it before she left her husband's +dressing room,—and the letter was as follows:—</p> + +<p>"Dearest George;—" When she read the epithet, which she and +she only was entitled to use, she paused for a moment and all the +blood rushed up into her face. She had known the handwriting +instantly, and at the first shock she put the paper down upon the +table. For a second there was a feeling prompting her to read no +further. But it was only for a second. Of course she would read it. +It certainly never would have occurred to her to search her husband's +clothes for letters. Up to this moment she had never examined a document +of his except at his bidding or in compliance with his wish. She +had suspected nothing, found nothing, had entertained not even any +curiosity about her husband's affairs. But now must she not read this +letter to which he himself had directed her? Dearest George! And +that in the handwriting of her friend,—her friend!—Adelaide +Houghton;—in the handwriting of the woman to whom her husband +had been attached before he had known herself! Of course she read +the letter.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +"<span class="smcap">Dearest George</span>,— +</p> + +<p>"I break my heart when you don't come to me; for heaven's +sake be here to-morrow. Two, three, four, five, six, seven—I shall be +here any hour till you come. I don't dare to tell the man that I am not +at home to anybody else, but you must take your chance. Nobody +ever does come till after three or after six. He never comes home +till half-past seven. Oh me! what is to become of me when you go +out of town? There is nothing to live for, nothing;—only you. +Anything that you write is quite safe. Say that you love me. A."</p></div> + +<p>The letter had grieved him when he got it,—as had other letters +before that. And yet it flattered him, and the assurance of the +woman's love had in it a certain candied sweetness which prevented him +from destroying the paper instantly, as he ought to have done. Could +his wife have read all his mind in the matter her anger would have +been somewhat mollified. In spite of the candied sweetness he hated +the correspondence. It had been the woman's doing and not his. It +is so hard for a man to be a Joseph! The Potiphar's wife of the +moment has probably had some encouragement,—and after that +Joseph can hardly flee unless he be very stout indeed. This Joseph +would have fled, though after a certain fashion he liked the woman, had +he been able to assure himself that the fault had in no degree been his. +But looking back, he thought that he had encouraged her, and did +not know how to fly. Of all this Mary knew nothing. She only knew +that old Mr. Houghton's wife, who professed to be her dear friend, +had written a most foul love-letter to her husband, and that her<!-- Page 207 --> +husband had preserved it carefully, and had then through manifest +mistake delivered it over into her hands.</p> + +<p>She read it twice, and then stood motionless for a few minutes +thinking what she would do. Her first idea was that she would tell +her father. But that she soon abandoned. She was grievously +offended with her husband; but, as she thought of it, she became +aware that she did not wish to bring on him any anger but her own. +Then she thought that she would start immediately for Berkeley Square, +and say what she had to say to Mrs. Houghton. As this idea presented +itself to her, she felt that she could say a good deal. But how +would that serve her? Intense as was her hatred at present against +Adelaide, Adelaide was nothing to her in comparison with her husband. +For a moment she almost thought that she would fly after him, +knowing, as she did, that he had gone to see his brother at Scumberg's +Hotel. But at last she resolved that she would do nothing and say +nothing till he should have perceived that she had read the letter. +She would leave it open on his dressing-table so that he might know +immediately on his return what had been done. Then it occurred to +her that the servants might see the letter if she exposed it. So she +kept it in her pocket, and determined that when she heard his knock +at the door she would step into his room, and place the letter ready +for his eyes. After that she spent the whole day in thinking of it, +and read the odious words over and over again till they were fixed in +her memory. "Say that you love me!" Wretched viper; ill-conditioned +traitor! Could it be that he, her husband, loved this +woman better than her? Did not all the world know that the woman +was plain and affected, and vulgar, and odious? "Dearest George!" +The woman could not have used such language without his sanction. +Oh;—what should she do? Would it not be necessary that she should +go back and live with her father? Then she thought of Jack De Baron. +They called Jack De Baron wild; but he would not have been guilty +of wickedness such as this. She clung, however, to the resolution of +putting the letter ready for her husband, so that he should know that +she had read it before they met.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Lord George, ignorant as yet of the storm which +was brewing at home, was shown into his brother's sitting-room. +When he entered he found there, with his brother, a lady whom he +could recognise without difficulty as his sister-in-law. She was a tall, +dark woman, as he thought very plain, but with large bright eyes and +very black hair. She was ill-dressed, in a morning wrapper, and +looked to him to be at least as old as her husband. The Marquis said +something to her in Italian which served as an introduction, but of +which Lord George could not understand a word. She curtseyed and +Lord George put out his hand. "It is perhaps as well that you should +make her acquaintance," said the Marquis. Then he again spoke in +Italian, and after a minute or two the lady withdrew. It occurred to<!-- Page 208 --> +Lord George afterwards that the interview had certainly been arranged. +Had his brother not wished him to see the lady, the lady could have +been kept in the background here as well as at Manor Cross. "It's +uncommon civil of you to come," said the Marquis as soon as the door +was closed. "What can I do for you?"</p> + +<p>"I did not like that you should be in London without my seeing +you."</p> + +<p>"I daresay not. I daresay not. I was very much obliged to you, +you know, for sending that lawyer down to me."</p> + +<p>"I did not send him."</p> + +<p>"And particularly obliged to you for introducing that other lawyer +into our family affairs."</p> + +<p>"I would have done nothing of the kind if I could have helped it. +If you will believe me, Brotherton, my only object is to have all this +so firmly settled that there may not be need of further enquiry at a +future time."</p> + +<p>"When I am dead?"</p> + +<p>"When we may both be dead."</p> + +<p>"You have ten years advantage of me. Your own chance isn't +bad."</p> + +<p>"If you will believe me——"</p> + +<p>"But suppose I don't believe you! Suppose I think that in saying +all that you are lying like the very devil!" Lord George jumped in +his chair, almost as though he had been shot. "My dear fellow, +what's the good of this humbug? You think you've got a chance. I +don't believe you were quick enough to see it yourself, but your father-in-law +has put you up to it. He is not quite such an ass as you are; +but even he is ass enough to fancy that because I, an Englishman, +have married an Italian lady, therefore the marriage may, very likely, +be good for nothing."</p> + +<p>"We only want proof."</p> + +<p>"Does anybody ever come to you and ask you for proofs of your +marriage with that very nice young woman, the Dean's daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Anybody may find them at Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"No doubt. And I can put my hand on the proofs of my marriage +when I want to do so. In the meantime I doubt whether you can +learn anything to your own advantage by coming here."</p> + +<p>"I didn't want to learn anything."</p> + +<p>"If you would look after your own wife a little closer, I fancy it +would be a better employment for you. She is at present probably +amusing herself with Captain De Baron."</p> + +<p>"That is calumny," said Lord George, rising from his chair.</p> + +<p>"No doubt. Any imputation coming from me is calumny. But +you can make imputations as heavy and as hard as you please—and all +in the way of honour. I've no doubt you'll find her with Captain De +Baron if you'll go and look."<!-- Page 209 --></p> + +<p>"I should find her doing nothing that she ought not to do," said +the husband, turning round for his hat and gloves.</p> + +<p>"Or perhaps making a speech at the Rights of Women Institute on +behalf of that German baroness who, I'm told, is in gaol. But, George, +don't you take it too much to heart. You've got the money. When +a man goes into a stable for his wife, he can't expect much in the way +of conduct or manners. If he gets the money he ought to be contented." +He had to hear it all to the last bitter word before he could +escape from the room and make his way out into the street.</p> + +<p>It was at this time about four o'clock, and in his agony of mind he +had turned down towards Piccadilly before he could think what he +would do with himself for the moment. Then he remembered that +Berkeley Square was close to him on the other side, and that he had +been summoned there about this hour. To give him his due, it should +be owned that he had no great desire to visit Berkeley Square in his +present condition of feeling. Since the receipt of that letter,—which +was now awaiting him at home,—he had told himself half a dozen times +that he must and would play the part of Joseph. He had so resolved +when she had first spoken to him of her passion, now some months +ago; and then his resolution had broken down merely because he +had not at the moment thought any great step to be necessary. But +now it was clear that some great step was necessary. He must make +her know that it did not suit him to be called "dearest George" by +her, or to be told to declare that he loved her. And this accusation +against his wife, made in such coarse and brutal language by his +brother, softened his heart to her. Why, oh why, had he allowed +himself to be brought up to a place he hated as he had always hated +London! Of course Jack De Baron made him unhappy, though he +was at the present moment prepared to swear that his wife was as +innocent as any woman in London.</p> + +<p>But now, as he was so near, and as his decision must be declared in +person, he might as well go to Berkeley Square. As he descended +Hay Hill he put his hand into his pocket for the lady's letter, and +pulled out that from the Dean which he had intended to leave with +his wife. In an instant he knew what he had done. He remembered +it all, even to the way in which he had made the mistake with the +two letters. There could be no doubt but that he had given Adelaide +Houghton's letter into his wife's hands, and that she had read it. At +the bottom of Hill Street, near the stables, he stopped suddenly and +put his hand up to his head. What should he do now? He certainly +could not pay his visit in Berkeley Square. He could not go and tell +Mrs. Houghton that he loved her, and certainly would not have +strength to tell her that he did not love her while suffering such agony +as this. Of course he must see his wife. Of course he must,—if I may +use the slang phrase,—of course he must "have it out with her," after +some fashion, and the sooner the better. So he turned his stops home<!-- Page 210 -->wards +across the Green Park. But, in going homewards, he did not +walk very fast.</p> + +<p>What would she do? How would she take it? Of course women +daily forgive such offences; and he might probably, after the burst +of the storm was over, succeed in making her believe that he did in +truth love her and did not love the other woman. In his present mood +he was able to assure himself most confidently that such was the truth. +He could tell himself now that he never wished to see Adelaide +Houghton again. But, before anything of this could be achieved, he +would have to own himself a sinner before her. He would have, as it +were, to grovel at her feet. Hitherto, in all his intercourse with her, +he had been masterful and marital. He had managed up to this +point so to live as to have kept in all respects the upper hand. He +had never yet been found out even in a mistake or an indiscretion. +He had never given her an opening for the mildest finding of fault. +She, no doubt, was young, and practise had not come to her. But, as +a natural consequence of this, Lord George had hitherto felt that an +almost divine superiority was demanded from him. That sense of +divine superiority must now pass away.</p> + +<p>I do not know whether a husband's comfort is ever perfect till some +family peccadilloes have been conclusively proved against him. I am +sure that a wife's temper to him is sweetened by such evidence of +human imperfection. A woman will often take delight in being angry; +will sometimes wrap herself warm in prolonged sullenness; will frequently +revel in complaint;—but she enjoys forgiving better than aught +else. She never feels that all the due privileges of her life have been +accorded to her, till her husband shall have laid himself open to the +caresses of a pardon. Then, and not till then, he is her equal; and +equality is necessary for comfortable love. But the man, till he be +well used to it, does not like to be pardoned. He has assumed divine +superiority, and is bound to maintain it. Then, at last, he comes home +some night with a little too much wine, or he cannot pay the weekly +bills because he has lost too much money at cards, or he has got into +trouble at his office and is in doubt for a fortnight about his place, or +perhaps a letter from a lady falls into wrong hands. Then he has to +tell himself that he has been "found out." The feeling is at first very +uncomfortable; but it is, I think, a step almost necessary in reaching +true matrimonial comfort. Hunting men say that hard rain settles +the ground. A good scold with a "kiss and be friends" after it, perhaps, +does the same.</p> + +<p>Now Lord George had been found out. He was quite sure of that. +And he had to undergo all that was unpleasant without sufficient +experience to tell him that those clouds too would pass away quickly. +He still walked homewards across St. James's Park, never stopping, +but dragging himself along slowly, and when he came to his own door +he let himself in very silently. She did not expect him so soon, and<!-- Page 211 --> +when he entered the drawing-room was startled to see him. She had +not as yet put the letter, as she had intended, on his dressing-table, +but still had it in her pocket; nor had it occurred to her that he would +as yet have known the truth. She looked at him when he entered, +but did not at first utter a word. "Mary," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well; is anything the matter?"</p> + +<p>It was possible that she had not found the letter,—possible, though +very improbable. But he had brought his mind so firmly to the point +of owning what was to be owned and defending what might be defended, +that he hardly wished for escape in that direction. At any +rate, he was not prepared to avail himself of it. "Did you find the +letter?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I found a letter."</p> + +<p>"Well!"</p> + +<p>"Of course I am sorry to have intruded upon so private a correspondence. +There it is." And she threw the letter to him. "Oh, +George!"</p> + +<p>He picked up the letter, which had fallen to the ground, and, +tearing it into bits, threw the fragments into the grate. "What do +you believe about it, Mary?"</p> + +<p>"Believe!"</p> + +<p>"Do you think that I love any one as I love you?"</p> + +<p>"You cannot love me at all,—unless that wicked, wretched creature +is a liar."</p> + +<p>"Have I ever lied to you? You will believe me?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know."</p> + +<p>"I love no one in the world but you."</p> + +<p>Even that almost sufficed for her. She already longed to have her +arms round his neck and to tell him that it was all forgiven;—that he +at least was forgiven. During the whole morning she had been thinking +of the angry words she would say to him, and of the still more angry +words which she would speak of that wicked, wicked viper. The +former were already forgotten; but she was not as yet inclined to +refrain as to Mrs. Houghton. "Oh, George, how could you bear such +a woman as that;—that you should let her write to you in such +language? Have you been to her?"</p> + +<p>"What, to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to-day."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I have just come from my brother."</p> + +<p>"You will never go into the house again! You will promise that!"</p> + +<p>Here was made the first direct attack upon his divine superiority! +Was he, at his wife's instance, to give a pledge that he would not go +into a certain house under any circumstances? This was the process +of bringing his nose down to the ground which he had feared. Here +was the first attempt made by his wife to put her foot on his neck. +"I think that I had better tell you all that I can tell," he said.<!-- Page 212 --></p> + +<p>"I only want to know that you hate her," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"I neither hate her nor love her. I did—love her—once. You +knew that."</p> + +<p>"I never could understand it. I never did believe that you really +could have loved her." Then she began to sob. "I shouldn't—ever—have +taken you—if—I had."</p> + +<p>"But from the moment when I first knew you it was all changed +with me." As he said this he put out his arms to her, and she came +to him. "There has never been a moment since in which you have +not had all my heart."</p> + +<p>"But why—why—why—," she sobbed, meaning to ask how it could +have come to pass that the wicked viper could, in those circumstances, +have written such a letter as that which had fallen into her hands.</p> + +<p>The question certainly was not unnatural. But it was a question very +difficult to answer. No man likes to say that a woman has pestered +him with unwelcome love, and certainly Lord George was not the man +to make such a boast. "Dearest Mary," he said, "on my honour as +a gentleman I am true to you."</p> + +<p>Then she was satisfied and turned her face to him and covered him +with kisses. I think that morning did more than any day had done +since their marriage to bring about the completion of her desire to be +in love with her husband. Her heart was so softened towards him that +she would not even press a question that would pain him. She had +intended sternly to exact from him a pledge that he would not again +enter the house in Berkeley Square, but she let even that pass by +because she would not annoy him. She gathered herself up close to +him on the sofa, and drawing his arm over her shoulder, sobbed and +laughed, stroking him with her hands as she crouched against his +shoulder. But yet, every now and then, there came forth from her +some violent ebullition against Mrs. Houghton. "Nasty creature! +Wicked, wicked beast! Oh, George, she is so ugly!" And yet before +this little affair, she had been quite content that Adelaide Houghton +should be her intimate friend.</p> + +<p>It had been nearly five when Lord George reached the house, and +he had to sit enduring his wife's caresses, and listening to devotion to +himself and her abuses of Mrs. Houghton till past six. Then it +struck him that a walk by himself would be good for him. They were +to dine out, but not till eight, and there would still be time. When +he proposed it, she acceded at once. Of course she must go and dress, +and equally of course he would not, could not go to Berkeley Square +now. She thoroughly believed that he was true to her, but yet she +feared the wiles of that nasty woman. They would go to the country +soon, and then the wicked viper would not be near them.</p> + +<p>Lord George walked across to Pall Mall, looked at an evening paper +at his club, and then walked back again. Of course it had been his +object to have a cool half hour in which to think it all over,—all that<!-- Page 213 --> +had passed between him and his wife, and also what had passed +between him and his brother. That his wife was the dearest, sweetest +woman in the world he was quite sure. He was more than satisfied +with her conduct to him. She had exacted from him very little +penitence:—had not required to put her foot in any disagreeable way upon +his neck. No doubt she felt that his divine superiority had been +vanquished, but she had uttered no word of triumph. With all that he +was content. But what was he to do with Mrs. Houghton, as to whom he +had sworn a dozen times within the last hour that she was quite indifferent +to him. He now repeated the assertion to himself, and felt +himself to be sure of the fact. But still he was her lover. He had +allowed her so to regard him, and something must be done. She +would write to him letters daily if he did not stop it; and every such +letter not shown to his wife would be a new treason against her. This +was a great trouble. And then, through it all, those terrible words +which his brother had spoken to him about Captain De Baron rung in +his ears. This afternoon had certainly afforded no occasion to him to +say a word about Captain De Baron to his wife. When detected in +his own sin he could not allude to possible delinquencies on the other +side. Nor did he think that there was any delinquency. But +Cæsar said that Cæsar's wife should be above suspicion, and in that +matter every man is a Cæsar to himself. Lady Susanna had spoken +about this Captain, and Adelaide Houghton had said an ill-natured +word or two, and he himself had seen them walking together. Now +his brother had told him that Captain De Baron was his wife's lover. +He did not at all like Captain De Baron.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">CAPTAIN DE BARON.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Of</span> course as the next day or two passed by, the condition of Mrs. +Houghton was discussed between Lord George and his wife. The +affair could not be passed over without further speech. "I am quite +contented with you," he said; "more than contented. But I suppose +she does not feel herself contented with Mr. Houghton."</p> + +<p>"Then why did she marry him?"</p> + +<p>"Ah;—why indeed."</p> + +<p>"A woman ought to be contented with her husband. But at any +rate what right can she have to disturb other people? I suppose you +never wrote her a love-letter."</p> + +<p>"Never, certainly;—since her marriage." This indeed was true. +The lady had frequently written to him, but he had warily kept<!-- Page 214 --> +his hands from pen and ink and had answered her letters by going to +her.</p> + +<p>"And yet she could persevere! Women can do such mean things! +I would sooner have broken my heart and died than have asked a man +to say that he loved me. I don't suppose you have much to be proud +of. I daresay she has half a dozen others. You won't see her again?"</p> + +<p>"I think I may be driven to do so. I do not wish to have to write +to her, and yet I must make her understand that all this is to be +over."</p> + +<p>"She'll understand that fast enough when she does not see you. It +would have served her right to have sent that letter to her husband."</p> + +<p>"That would have been cruel, Mary."</p> + +<p>"I didn't do it. I thought of doing it, and wouldn't do it. But it +would have served her right. I suppose she was always writing."</p> + +<p>"She had written, but not quite like that," said Lord George. He +was not altogether comfortable during this conversation.</p> + +<p>"She writes lots of such letters no doubt. You do then mean to go +there again?"</p> + +<p>"I think so. Of course I do not look upon her as being so utterly a +castaway as you do."</p> + +<p>"I believe her to be a heartless, vile, intriguing woman, who +married an old man without caring a straw for him, and who doesn't +care how miserable she makes other people. And I think she is +very—very ugly. She paints frightfully. Anybody can see it. And +as for false hair,—why, it's nearly all false." Lady George certainly +did not paint, and had not a shred of false hair about her. "Oh, +George, if you do go, do be firm! You will be firm;—will you not?"</p> + +<p>"I shall go simply that this annoyance may be at an end."</p> + +<p>"Of course you will tell her that I will never speak to her again. +How could I? You would not wish it;—would you?" In answer to +this there was nothing for him to say. He would have wished that a +certain amount of half friendly intercourse should be carried on; but +he could not ask her to do this. After a time he might perhaps be +able to press on her the advantage of avoiding a scandal, but as yet he +could not do even that. He had achieved more than he had a right to +expect in obtaining her permission to call once more in Berkeley +Square himself. After that they would soon be going down to Brotherton, +and when they were there things might be allowed to settle +themselves. Then she asked him another question. "You don't +object to my going to Mrs. Jones' party on Thursday?"</p> + +<p>The question was very sudden, so that he was almost startled. +"It is a dance, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, a dance of course."</p> + +<p>"No;—I have no objection."</p> + +<p>She had meant to ask him to reconsider his verdict against round +dances, but she could hardly do so at this moment. She could not<!-- Page 215 --> +take advantage of her present strength to extract from him a privilege +which under other circumstances he had denied to her. Were she to +do so it would be as much as to declare that she meant to waltz because +he had amused himself with Mrs. Houghton. Her mind was not at +all that way given. But she did entertain an idea that something +more of freedom should be awarded to her because her husband had +given her cause of offence and had been forgiven. While he was still +strong with that divine superiority which she had attributed to him, she +had almost acknowledged to herself that he had a right to demand that +she should be dull and decorous. But now that she had found him +to be in the receipt of clandestine love-letters, it did seem that she +might allow herself a little liberty. She had forgiven him freely. She +had really believed that in spite of the letter she herself was the +woman he loved. She had said something to herself about men +amusing themselves, and had told herself that though no woman could +have written such a letter as that without disgracing herself altogether, +a man might receive it and even keep it in his pocket without meaning +very much harm. But the accident must, she thought, be held to +absolve her from some part of the strictness of her obedience. She +almost thought that she would waltz at Mrs. Jones's ball; perhaps not +with Captain De Baron; perhaps not with much energy or with full +enjoyment; but still sufficiently to disenthral herself. If possible she +would say a word to her husband first. They were both going to a +rather crowded affair at Lady Brabazon's before the night of Mrs. +Jones's party. They had agreed that they would do little more than +shew themselves there. He was obliged to go to this special place and +he hated staying. But even at Lady Brabazon's she might find an +opportunity of saying what she wished to say.</p> + +<p>On that day she took him out in her brougham, and on her return +home was alone all the afternoon till about five; and then who should +come to her but Captain De Baron. No doubt they two had become +very intimate. She could not at all have defined her reasons for liking +him. She was quite sure of one thing,—she was not in the least in +love with him. But he was always gay, always good humoured, always +had plenty to say. He was the source of all the fun that ever came +in her way; and fun was very dear to her. He was nice-looking +and manly, and gentle withal. Why should she not have her +friend? He would not write abominable letters and ask her to say +that she loved him! And yet she was aware that there was a danger. +She knew that her husband was a little jealous. She knew that +Augusta Mildmay was frightfully jealous. That odious creature Mrs. +Houghton had made ever so many nasty little allusions to her and +Jack. When his name was announced she almost wished that he had +not come; but yet she received him very pleasantly. He immediately +began about the Baroness Banmann. The Baroness had on the previous +evening made her way on to the platform at the Disabilities<!-- Page 216 --> +when Dr. Fleabody was lecturing, and Lady Selina was presiding and +had, to use Jack's own words, "Kicked up the most delightful bobbery +that had ever been witnessed! She bundled poor old Lady Selina +out of the chair."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"So I am told;—took the chair by the back and hoisted her out."</p> + +<p>"Didn't they send for the police?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose they did at last; but the American doctor was too many +for her. The Baroness strove to address the meeting; but Olivia Q. +Fleabody has become a favourite, and carried the day. I am told that +at last the bald-headed old gentleman took the Baroness home in a +cab. I'd have given a five-pound note to be there. I think I must +go some night and hear the Doctor."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't go again for anything."</p> + +<p>"You women are all so jealous of each other. Poor Lady Selina! +I'm told she was very much shaken."</p> + +<p>"How did you hear it all?"</p> + +<p>"From Aunt Ju," said the Captain. "Aunt Ju was there, of +course. The Baroness tried to fly into Aunt Ju's arms, but Aunt Ju +seems to have retired."</p> + +<p>Then the quarrel must have been made up between Captain De +Baron and Miss Mildmay. That was the idea which at once came into +Mary's head. He could hardly have seen Aunt Ju without seeing her +niece at the same time. Perhaps it was all settled. Perhaps, after +all, they would be married. It would be a pity, because she was not +half nice enough for him. And then Mary doubted whether Captain +De Baron as a married man would be nearly so pleasant as in his +present condition. "I hope Miss Mildmay is none the worse," she +said.</p> + +<p>"A little shaken in her nerves."</p> + +<p>"Was—Augusta Mildmay there?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear no. It is quite out of her line. She is not at all disposed +to lay aside the feeblenesses of her sex and go into one of the +learned professions. By the bye, I am afraid you and she are not very +good friends."</p> + +<p>"What makes you say that, Captain De Baron?"</p> + +<p>"But are you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know why you should enquire."</p> + +<p>"It is natural to wish that one's own friends should be friends."</p> + +<p>"Has Miss Mildmay said—anything about—me?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word;—nor you about her. And, therefore, I know that +something is wrong."</p> + +<p>"The last time I saw her I did not think that Miss Mildmay was +very happy," said Mary, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Did she complain to you?" Mary had no answer ready for this +question. She could not tell a lie easily, nor could she acknowledge<!-- Page 217 --> +the complaint which the lady had made, and had made so loudly. "I +suppose she did complain," he said, "and I suppose I know the +nature of her complaint."</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell;—though, of course, it was nothing to me."</p> + +<p>"It is very much to me, though. I wish, Lady George, you could +bring yourself to tell me the truth." He paused, but she did not +speak. "If it were as I fear, you must know how much I am implicated. +I would not for the world that you should think I am behaving +badly."</p> + +<p>"You should not permit her to think so, Captain De Baron."</p> + +<p>"She doesn't think so. She can't think so. I am not going to +say a word against her. She and I have been dear friends, and there +is no one,—hardly any one,—for whom I have a greater regard. But +I do protest to you, Lady George, that I have never spoken an untrue +word to Augusta Mildmay in my life."</p> + +<p>"I have not accused you."</p> + +<p>"But has she? Of course it is a kind of thing that a man cannot +talk about without great difficulty."</p> + +<p>"Is it not a thing that a man should not talk about at all?"</p> + +<p>"That is severe, Lady George;—much more severe than I should +have expected from your usual good nature. Had you told me that +nothing had been said to you, there would have been an end of it. +But I cannot bear to think that you should have been told that I +had behaved badly, and that I should be unable to vindicate myself."</p> + +<p>"Have you not been engaged to marry Miss Mildmay?"</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"Then why did you allow yourself to become so—so much to her?"</p> + +<p>"Because I liked her. Because we were thrown together. Because +the chances of things would have it so. Don't you know that that +kind of thing is occurring every day? Of course, if a man were made +up of wisdom and prudence and virtue and self-denial, this kind of +thing wouldn't occur. But I don't think the world would be pleasanter +if men were like that. Adelaide Houghton is Miss Mildmay's most +intimate friend, and Adelaide has always known that I couldn't marry." +As soon as Mrs. Houghton's name was mentioned a dark frown came +across Lady George's brow. Captain De Baron saw it, but did not as +yet know anything of its true cause.</p> + +<p>"Of course I am not going to judge between you," said Lady +George, very gravely.</p> + +<p>"But I want you to judge me. I want you of all the world to +feel that I have not been a liar and a blackguard."</p> + +<p>"Captain De Baron! how can you use such language?"</p> + +<p>"Because I feel this very acutely. I do believe that Miss Mildmay +has accused me to you. I do not wish to say a word against her. I +would do anything in the world to protect her from the ill words of +others. But I cannot bear that your mind should be poisoned against<!-- Page 218 --> +me. Will you believe me when I tell you that I have never said a +word to Miss Mildmay which could possibly be taken as an offer of +marriage?"</p> + +<p>"I had rather give no opinion."</p> + +<p>"Will you ask Adelaide?"</p> + +<p>"No; certainly not." This she said with so much vehemence that +he was thoroughly startled. "Mrs. Houghton is not among the number +of my acquaintances."</p> + +<p>"Why not? What is the <a name="tn_pg_227"></a><!-- TN: end quote added-->matter?"</p> + +<p>"I can give no explanation, and I had rather that no questions +should be asked. But so it is."</p> + +<p>"Has she offended Lord George?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear no; that is to say I cannot tell you anything more about +it. You will never see me in Berkeley Square again. And now, pray +say no more about it."</p> + +<p>"Poor Adelaide. Well; it does seem terrible that there should be +such misunderstandings. She knows nothing about it. I was with +her this morning, and she was speaking of you with the greatest affection." +Mary struggled hard to appear indifferent to all this, but +struggled in vain. She could not restrain herself from displaying her +feeling. "May I not ask any further questions?"</p> + +<p>"No, Captain De Baron."</p> + +<p>"Nor hope that I may be a peacemaker between you?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I wish you wouldn't talk about it any more."</p> + +<p>"I certainly will not if it offends you. I would not offend you for +all the world. When you came up to town, Lady George, a few months +ago, there were three or four of us that soon became such excellent +friends! And now it seems that everything has gone wrong. I hope we +need not quarrel—you and I?"</p> + +<p>"I know no reason why we should."</p> + +<p>"I have liked you so much. I am sure you have known that. +Sometimes one does come across a person that one really likes; but it +is so seldom."</p> + +<p>"I try to like everybody," she said.</p> + +<p>"I don't do that. I fear that at first starting I try to dislike everybody. +I think it is natural to hate people the first time you see +them."</p> + +<p>"Did you hate me?" she asked, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Oh, horribly,—for two minutes. Then you laughed, or cried, or +sneezed, or did something in a manner that I liked, and I saw at once +that you were the most charming human being in the world."</p> + +<p>When a young man tells a young woman that she is the most charming +human being in the world, he is certainly using peculiar language. +In most cases the young man would be supposed to be making love to +the young woman. Mary, however, knew very well that Captain De +Baron was not making love to her. There seemed to be an under<!-- Page 219 -->standing +that all manner of things should be said between them, and +that yet they should mean nothing. But, nevertheless, she felt that +the language which this man had used to her would be offensive +to her husband if he knew that it had been used when they two were +alone together. Had it been said before a room-full of people it would +not have mattered. And yet she could not rebuke him. She could +not even look displeased. She had believed all that he had said to +her about Augusta Mildmay, and was glad to believe it. She liked +him so much, that she would have spoken to him as to a brother of +the nature of her quarrel with Mrs. Houghton, only that, even to a +brother, she would not have mentioned her husband's folly. When +he spoke of her crying, or laughing, or sneezing, she liked the little +attempt at drollery. She liked to know that he had found her charming. +Where is the woman who does not wish to charm, and is not +proud to think that she has succeeded with those whom she most +likes? She could not rebuke him. She could not even avoid letting +him see that she was pleased. "You have a dozen human beings in +the world who are the most delightful," she said, "and another dozen +who are the most odious."</p> + +<p>"Quite a dozen who are the most odious, but only one, Lady George, +who is the most delightful." He had hardly said this when the door +opened and Lord George entered the room. Lord George was not a +clever hypocrite. If he disliked a person he soon showed his dislike +in his manner. It was very clear to both of them on the present +occasion that he did not like the presence of Captain De Baron. He +looked very gloomy,—almost angry, and after speaking hardly more +than a single word to his wife's guest, he stood silent and awkward, +leaning against the mantel-piece. "What do you think Captain De +Baron tells me?" Mary said, trying, but not very successfully, to speak +with natural ease.</p> + +<p>"I don't in the least know."</p> + +<p>"There has been such a scene at the Women's Institute! That +Baroness made a dreadful attack on poor Lady Selina Protest."</p> + +<p>"She and the American female doctor were talking against each +other from the same platform, at the same time," said De Baron.</p> + +<p>"Very disgraceful!" said Lord George. "But then the whole +thing is disgraceful, and always was. I should think Lord Plausible +must be thoroughly ashamed of his sister." Lady Selina was sister to +the Earl of Plausible, but, as all the world knew, was not on speaking +terms with her brother.</p> + +<p>"I suppose that unfortunate German lady will be put in prison," +said Lady George.</p> + +<p>"I only trust she may never be able to put her foot into your house +again."</p> + +<p>Then there was a pause. He was apparently so cross that conversation +seemed to be impossible. The Captain would have gone away at<!-- Page 220 --> +once had he been able to escape suddenly. But there are times when +it is very hard to get out of a room, at which a sudden retreat would +imply a conviction that something was wrong. It seemed to him that +for her sake he was bound to remain a few minutes longer. "When +do you go down to Brothershire?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"About the 7th of July," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Or probably earlier," said Lord George;—at which his wife looked +up at him, but without making any remark.</p> + +<p>"I shall be down at my cousin's place some day in August," De +Baron said. Lord George frowned more heavily than ever. "Mr. De +Baron is going to have a large gathering of people about the end of +the month."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"The Houghtons will be there." Then Mary also frowned. "And +I have an idea that your brother, Lord George, has half promised to +be one of the party."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing at all about it."</p> + +<p>"My cousin was up in town yesterday with the Houghtons. Good-bye, +Lady George; I shan't be at Lady Brabazon's, because she has +forgotten to invite me, but I suppose I shall see you at Mrs. Montacute +Jones'?"</p> + +<p>"I shall certainly be at Mrs. Montacute Jones'," said Mary, trying +to speak cheerfully.</p> + +<p>The bell was rang and the door was closed, and then the husband +and wife were together. "A dreadful communication has just been +made to me," said Lord George in his most solemn and funereal +voice;—"a most dreadful communication!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">A DREADFUL COMMUNICATION.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">"A most</span> dreadful communication!" There was something in +Lord George's voice as he uttered these words which so frightened his +wife that she became at the moment quite pale. She was sure, almost +sure from his countenance that the dreadful communication had some +reference to herself. Had any great calamity happened in regard to +his own family he would not have looked at her as he was now looking. +And yet she could not imagine what might be the nature of +the communication. "Has anything happened at Manor Cross?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>"It is not about Manor Cross."</p> + +<p>"Or your brother?"<!-- Page 221 --></p> + +<p>"It is not about my brother; it does not in any way concern my +family. It is about you."</p> + +<p>"About me! Oh, George! do not look at me like that. What +is it?"</p> + +<p>He was very slow in the telling of the story; slow even in beginning +to tell it; indeed, he hardly knew how to begin. "You know Miss +Augusta Mildmay?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Then she understood it all. She might have told him that he could +spare himself all further trouble in telling, only that to do so would +hardly have suited her purpose; therefore she had to listen to the story, +very slowly told. Miss Augusta Mildmay had written to him begging +him to come to her. He, very much astonished at such a request, +had nevertheless obeyed it; and Augusta Mildmay had assured him +that his wife, by wicked wiles and lures, was interfering between her +and her affianced lover Captain De Baron. Mary sat patiently till she +had heard it all,—sat almost without speaking a word; but there was +a stern look on her face which he had never seen there before. Still +he went on with his determined purpose. "These are the kind of +things which are being repeated of you," he said at last. "Susanna +made the same complaint. And it had reached Brotherton's ears. He +spoke to me of it in frightfully strong language. And now this young +lady tells me that you are destroying her happiness."</p> + +<p>"Well!"</p> + +<p>"You can't suppose that I can hear all this without uneasiness."</p> + +<p>"Do you believe it?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know what to believe. I am driven mad."</p> + +<p>"If you believe it, George, if you believe a word of it, I will go +away from you. I will go back to papa. I will not stay with you to +be doubted."</p> + +<p>"That is nonsense."</p> + +<p>"It shall not be nonsense. I will not live to hear myself accused +by my husband as to another man. Wicked young woman! Oh, what +women are and what they can do! She has never been engaged to +Captain De Baron."</p> + +<p>"What is that to you or me?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, if you had not told me that I stood in her way."</p> + +<p>"It is not her engagement, or her hopes, whether ill or well +founded, or his treachery to a lady, that concerns you and me, Mary; +but that she should send for me and tell me to my face that you are +the cause of her unhappiness. Why should she pitch upon you?"</p> + +<p>"How can I say? Because she is very wicked."</p> + +<p>"And why should Susanna feel herself obliged to caution me as to +this Captain De Baron? She had no motive. She is not wicked."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that."</p> + +<p>"And why should my brother tell me that all the world is speaking +of your conduct with this very man?"<!-- Page 222 --></p> + +<p>"Because he is your bitterest enemy. George, do you believe it?"</p> + +<p>"And why, when I come home with all this heavy on my heart, do +I find this very man closeted with you?"</p> + +<p>"Closeted with me!"</p> + +<p>"You were alone with him."</p> + +<p>"Alone with him! Of course I am alone with anyone who calls. +Would you like me to tell the servant that Captain De Baron is to be +excluded,—so that all the world might know that you are jealous?"</p> + +<p>"He must be excluded."</p> + +<p>"Then you must do it. But it will be unnecessary. As you believe +all this, I will tell my father everything and will go back to him. I +will not live here, George, to be so suspected that the very servants +have to be told that I am not to be allowed to see one special man."</p> + +<p>"No; you will go down into the country with me."</p> + +<p>"I will not stay in the same house with you," she said, jumping up +from her seat, "unless you tell me that you suspect me of nothing—not +even of an impropriety. You may lock me up, but you cannot +hinder me from writing to my father."</p> + +<p>"I trust you will do nothing of the kind."</p> + +<p>"Not tell him! Who then is to be my friend if you turn against +me? Am I to be all alone among a set of people who think nothing +but ill of me?"</p> + +<p>"I am to be your friend."</p> + +<p>"But you think ill of me."</p> + +<p>"I have not said so, Mary."</p> + +<p>"Then say at once that you think no ill, and do not threaten me +that I am to be taken into the country for protection. And when you +tell me of the bold-faced villany of that young woman, speak of her +with the disgust that she deserves; and say that your sister Susanna +is suspicious and given to evil thoughts; and declare your brother to +be a wicked slanderer if he has said a word against the honour of your +wife. Then I shall know that you think no ill of me; and then I shall +know that I may lean upon you as my real friend."</p> + +<p>Her eyes flashed fire as she spoke, and he was silenced for the +moment by an impetuosity and a passion which he had not at all expected. +He was not quite disposed to yield to her, to assure her of his +conviction that those to whom she alluded were all wrong, and that she +was all right; but yet he was beginning to wish for peace. That +Captain De Baron was a pestilential young man whose very business it +was to bring unhappiness into families, he did believe; and he feared +also that his wife had allowed herself to fall into an indiscreet intimacy +with this destroyer of women's characters. Then there was that feeling +of Cæsar's wife strong within his bosom, which he could, perhaps, +have more fully explained to her but for that unfortunate letter from +Mrs. Houghton. Any fault, however, of that kind on his part was, in +his estimation, nothing to a fault on the part of his wife. She, when<!-- Page 223 --> +once assured that he was indifferent about Mrs. Houghton, would +find no cause for unhappiness in the matter. But what would all +the world be to him if his wife were talked about commonly in connection +with another man? That she should not absolutely be a +castaway would not save him from a perpetual agony which he would +find to be altogether unendurable. He was, he was sure, quite right +as to that theory about Cæsar's wife, even though, from the unfortunate +position of circumstances, he could not dilate upon it at the present +moment. "I think," he said, after a pause, "that you will allow that +you had better drop this gentleman's acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"I will allow nothing of the kind, George. I will allow nothing that +can imply the slightest stain upon my name or upon your honour. +Captain De Baron is my friend. I like him very much. A great +many people know how intimate we are. They shall never be taught +to suppose that there was anything wrong in that intimacy. They shall +never, at any rate, be taught so by anything that I will do. I will +admit nothing. I will do nothing myself to show that I am ashamed. +Of course you can take me into the country; of course you can lock +me up if you like; of course you can tell all your friends that I have +misbehaved myself; you can listen to calumny against me from everybody; +but if you do I will have one friend to protect me, and I will +tell papa everything." Then she walked away to the door as though +she were leaving the room.</p> + +<p>"Stop a moment," he said. Then she stood with her hand still on +the lock, as though intending to stay merely till he should have +spoken some last word to her. He was greatly surprised by her +strength and resolution, and now hardly knew what more to say to her. +He could not beg her pardon for his suspicion; he could not tell her +that she was right; and yet he found it impossible to assert that +she was wrong. "I do not think that passion will do any good," +he said.</p> + +<p>"I do not know what will do any good. I know what I feel."</p> + +<p>"It will do good if you will allow me to advise you."</p> + +<p>"What is your advice?"</p> + +<p>"To come down to the country as soon as possible, and to avoid, as +far as possible, seeing Captain De Baron before you go."</p> + +<p>"That would be running away from Captain De Baron. I am to +meet him at Mrs. Montacute Jones' <a name="tn_pg_232"></a><!-- TN: end quote added-->ball."</p> + +<p>"Send an excuse to Mrs. Montacute Jones."</p> + +<p>"You may do so, George, if you like. I will not. If I am told +by you that I am not to meet this man, of course I shall obey you; but +I shall consider myself to have been insulted,—to have been insulted +by you." As she said this his brow became very black. "Yes, by +you. You ought to defend me from these people who tell stories +about me, and not accuse me yourself. I cannot and will not live with +you if you think evil of me." Then she opened the door, and slowly<!-- Page 224 --> +left the room. He would have said more had he known what to say. +But her words came more fluently than his, and he was dumbfounded +by her volubility; yet he was as much convinced as ever that it was his +duty to save her from the ill repute which would fall upon her from +further intimacy with this Captain. He could, of course, take her into +the country to-morrow, if he chose to do so; but he could not +hinder her from writing to the Dean; he could not debar her from pen +and ink and the use of the post-office; nor could he very well forbid +her to see her father.</p> + +<p>Of course if she did complain to the Dean she would tell the Dean +everything. So he told himself. Now, when a man assumes the divine +superiority of an all-governing husband his own hands should be quite +clean. Lord George's hands were by no means clean. It was not, +perhaps, his own fault that they were dirty. He was able at any rate +to tell himself that the fault had not been his. But there was that undoubted +love-letter from Mrs. Houghton. If the Dean were to question +him about that he could not lie. And though he would assure himself +that the fault had all been with the lady, he could not excuse himself +by that argument in discussing the matter with the Dean. He was in +such trouble that he feared to drive his wife to retaliation; and yet he +must do his duty. His honour and her honour must be his first consideration. +If she would only promise him not willingly to see Captain +De Baron there should be an end of it, and he would allow her to +stay the allotted time in London; but if she would not do this he +thought that he must face the Dean and all his terrors.</p> + +<p>But he hardly knew his wife—was hardly aware of the nature of her +feelings. When she spoke of appealing to her father, no idea crossed +her mind of complaining of her husband's infidelity. She would seek +protection for herself, and would be loud enough in protesting against the +slanderous tongues of those who had injured her. She would wage war +to the knife against the Marquis, and against Lady Susanna, and against +Augusta Mildmay, and would call upon her father to assist her in that +warfare; but she would not condescend to allude to a circumstance which, +if it were an offence against her, she had pardoned, but as to which, in +her heart of hearts, she believed her husband to be, if not innocent, at +least not very guilty. She despised Adelaide Houghton too much to +think that her husband had really loved such a woman, and was too +confident in herself to doubt his love for many minutes. She could +hate Adelaide Houghton for making the attempt, and yet could believe +that the attempt had been futile.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless when she was alone she thought much of Mrs. Houghton's +letter. Throughout her interview with her husband she had +thought of it, but had determined from the very first that she would +not cast it in his teeth. She would do nothing ungenerous. But was +it not singular that he should be able to upbraid her for her conduct, +for conduct in which there had been no trespass, knowing as he must<!-- Page 225 --> +have known, feeling as he must have felt, that every word of that +letter was dwelling in her memory! He had, at any rate, intended +that the abominable correspondence should be clandestine. He must +have been sadly weak, to make the least of it, to have admitted such a +correspondence. "Pray tell me that you love me!" That had been +the language addressed to him only a few days since by a married lady +to whom he had once made an offer of marriage; and yet he could now +come and trample on her as though his marital superiority had all the +divinity of snow-white purity. This was absolute tyranny. But yet +in complaining to her father of his tyranny she would say nothing of +Adelaide Houghton. Of the accusations made against herself she +would certainly tell her father, unless they were withdrawn as far as +her own husband could withdraw them. For an hour after leaving +him her passion still sustained her. Was this to be her reward for all +her endeavours to become a loving wife?</p> + +<p>They were engaged to dine that evening with a certain Mrs. Patmore +Green, who had herself been a Germain, and who had been first +cousin to the late marquis. Mary came down dressed into the drawing +room at the proper time, not having spoken another word to her husband, +and there she found him also dressed. She had schooled herself +to show no sign either of anger or regret, and as she entered the room +said some indifferent words about the brougham. He still looked as +dark as a thunder-cloud, but he rang the bell and asked the servant a +question. The brougham was there, and away they went to Mrs. +Patmore Green's. She spoke half-a-dozen words on the way, but he +hardly answered her. She knew that he would not do so, being aware +that it was not within his power to rise above the feelings of the +moment. But she exerted herself so that he might know that she did +not mean to display her ill-humour at Mrs. Patmore Green's house.</p> + +<p>Lady Brabazon, whose sister had married a Germain, was there, +and a Colonel Ansley, who was a nephew of Lady Brotherton's; so that +the party was very much a Germain party. All these people had +been a good deal exercised of late on the great Popenjoy question. So +immense is the power of possession that the Marquis, on his arrival in +town, had been asked to all the Germain houses in spite of his sins, +and had been visited with considerable family affection and regard; +for was he not the head of them all? But he had not received these +offers graciously, and now the current of Germain opinion was running +against him. Of the general propriety of Lord George's conduct +ever since his birth there had never been a doubt, and the Greens and +Brabazons and Ansleys were gradually coming round to the opinion +that he was right to make enquiries as to the little Popenjoy's antecedents. +They had all taken kindly to Mary, though they were, +perhaps, beginning to think that she was a little too frivolous, too +fond of pleasure for Lord George. Mrs. Patmore Green, who was the +wife of a very rich man, and the mother of a very large family, and<!-- Page 226 --> +altogether a very worthy woman, almost at once began to whisper to +Mary—"Well, my dear, what news from Italy?"</p> + +<p>"I never hear anything about it, Mrs. Green," said Mary, with a +laugh.</p> + +<p>"And yet the Dean is so eager, Lady George!"</p> + +<p>"I won't let papa talk to me about it. Lord Brotherton is quite +welcome to his wife and his son, and everything else for me—only I +do wish he would have remained away."</p> + +<p>"I think we all wish that, my dear."</p> + +<p>Mr. Patmore Green, and Colonel Ansley, and Lady Brabazon all +spoke a word or two in the course of the evening to Lord George on +the same subject, but he would only shake his head and say nothing. +At that time this affair of his wife's was nearer to him and more +burdensome to him than even the Popenjoy question. He could not +rid himself of this new trouble even for a moment. He was still +thinking of it when all the enquiries about Popenjoy were being made. +What did it matter to him how that matter should be settled, if all +the happiness of his life were to be dispelled by this terrible domestic +affliction. "I am afraid this quarrel with his brother will be too +much for Lord George," said Mr. Patmore Green to his wife, when +the company were gone. "He was not able to say a word the whole +evening."</p> + +<p>"And I never knew her to be more pleasant," said Mrs. Patmore +Green. "She doesn't seem to care about it the least in the world." +The husband and wife did not speak a word to each other as they went +home in the brougham. Mary had done her duty by sustaining +herself in public, but was not willing to let him think that she had as +yet forgiven the cruelty of his suspicions.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">"I DENY IT."</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">During</span> the whole of that night Lord George lay suffering from +his troubles, and his wife lay thinking about them. Though the +matter affected her future life almost more materially than his, she +had the better courage to maintain her, and a more sustained conviction. +It might be that she would have to leave her home and go back +to the deanery, and in that there would be utter ruin to her happiness. +Let the result, however, be as it would, she could never own herself +to have been one tittle astray, and she was quite sure that her father +would support her in that position. The old 'ruat cœlum' feeling<!-- Page 227 --> +was strong within her. She would do anything she could for her husband +short of admitting, by any faintest concession, that she had been +wrong in reference to Captain De Baron. She would talk to him, coax +him, implore him, reason with him, forgive him, love him, and caress +him. She would try to be gentle with him this coming morning. But +if he were obdurate in blaming her, she would stand on her own innocence +and fight to the last gasp. He was supported by no such spirit of +pugnacity. He felt it to be his duty to withdraw his wife from the +evil influence of this man's attractions, but felt, at the same time, that +he might possibly lack the strength to do so. And then, what is the +good of withdrawing a wife, if the wife thinks that she ought not to be +withdrawn? There are sins as to which there is no satisfaction in +visiting the results with penalties. The sin is in the mind, or in the +heart, and is complete in its enormity, even though there be no result. +He was miserable because she had not at once acknowledged that she +never ought to see this man again, as soon as she had heard the +horrors which her husband had told her. "George," she said to him +at breakfast, the next morning, "do not let us go on in this way +together."</p> + +<p>"In what way?"</p> + +<p>"Not speaking to each other,—condemning each other."</p> + +<p>"I have not condemned you, and I don't know why you should +condemn me."</p> + +<p>"Because I think that you suspect me without a cause."</p> + +<p>"I only tell you what people say!"</p> + +<p>"If people told me bad things of you, George,—that you were this +or that, or the other, should I believe them?"</p> + +<p>"A woman's name is everything."</p> + +<p>"Then do you protect my name. But I deny it. Her name should +be as nothing when compared with her conduct. I don't like to be +evil spoken of, but I can bear that, or anything else, if you do not +think evil of me,—you and papa." This reference to her father +brought back the black cloud which her previous words had tended +to dispel. "Tell me that you do not suspect me."</p> + +<p>"I never said that I suspected you of anything."</p> + +<p>"Say that you are sure that in regard to this man I never said, or +did, or thought anything that was wrong. Come, George, have I not +a right to expect that from you?" She had come round the table and +was standing over him, touching his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Even then it would be better that you should go away from him."</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"I say that it would be better, Mary."</p> + +<p>"And I say that it would be worse,—much worse. What? Will you +bid your wife make so much of any man as to run away from him? +Will you let the world say that you think that I cannot be safe in his +company? I will not consent to that, George. The running away<!-- Page 228 --> +shall not be mine. Of course you can take me away, if you please, but +I shall feel——"</p> + +<p>"Well!"</p> + +<p>"You know what I shall feel. I told you last night."</p> + +<p>"What do you want me to do?" he asked, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Nothing."</p> + +<p>"I am to hear these stories and not even to tell you that I have +heard them?"</p> + +<p>"I did not say that, George. I suppose it is better that you should +tell me. But I think you should say at the same time that you know +them to be false." Even though they were false, there was that +doctrine of Cæsar's wife which she would not understand! "I think +I should be told, and then left to regulate my own ways accordingly." +This was mutinously imperious, and yet he did not quite know how to +convince her of her mutiny. Through it all he was cowed by the remembrance +of that love-letter, which, of course, was in her mind, but +which she was either too generous or too wise to mention. He almost +began to think that it was wisdom rather than generosity, feeling +himself to be more cowed by her reticence than he would have been +by her speech.</p> + +<p>"You imagine, then, that a husband should never interfere."</p> + +<p>"Not to protect a wife from that from which she is bound to protect +herself. If he has to do so, she is not the worth the trouble, and he +had better get rid of her. It is like preventing a man from drinking +by locking up the wine."</p> + +<p>"That has to be done sometimes."</p> + +<p>"It sha'n't be done to me, George. You must either trust me, or +we must part."</p> + +<p>"I do trust you," he said, at last.</p> + +<p>"Then let there be an end of all this trouble. Tell Susanna that +you trust me. For your brother and that disappointed young woman +I care nothing. But if I am to spend my time at Cross Hall, whatever +they may think, I should not wish them to believe that you thought +evil of me. And, George, don't suppose that because I say that I will +not run away from Captain De Baron, all this will go for nothing with +me. I will not avoid Captain De Baron, but I will be careful to give +no cause for ill-natured words." Then she put her arm round his +neck, and kissed him, and had conquered him.</p> + +<p>When he went away from the house he had another great trouble +before him. He had not seen Mrs. Houghton as yet, since his wife +had found that love-letter; but she had written to him often. She +had sent notes to his club almost wild with love and anger,—with that +affectation of love and anger which some women know how to assume, +and which so few men know how to withstand. It was not taken to +be quite real, even by Lord George; and yet he could not withstand +it. Mrs. Houghton, who understood the world thoroughly, had<!-- Page 229 --> +become quite convinced that Lady George had quarrelled with her. +The two women had been very intimate ever since Lady George had +been in town, and now for the last few days they had not seen each +other. Mrs. Houghton had called twice, and had been refused. Then +she had written, and had received no answer. She knew then that +Mary had discovered something, and, of course, attributed her lover's +absence to the wife's influence. But it did not occur to her that she +should, on this account, give up her intercourse with Lord George. +Scenes, quarrels, reconciliations, troubles, recriminations, jealousies, +resolves, petty triumphs, and the general upsetting of the happiness +of other people,—these were to her the sweets of what she called a +passion. To give it all up because her lover's wife had found her out, +and because her lover was in trouble, would be to abandon her love +just when it was producing the desired fruit. She wrote short letters +and long letters, angry letters, and most affectionate letters to Lord +George at his club, entreating him to come to her, and almost driving +him out of his wits. He had, from the first, determined that he +would go to her. He had even received his wife's sanction for doing +so; but, knowing how difficult it would be to conduct such an interview, +had, hitherto, put off the evil hour. But now a day and an +hour had been fixed, and the day and the hour had come. The hour +had very nearly come. When he left his house there was still time +for him to sit for awhile at his club, and think what he would say to +this woman.</p> + +<p>He wished to do what was right. There was not a man in England +less likely to have intended to amuse himself with a second love within +twelve months of his marriage than Lord George Germain. He had +never been a Lothario,—had never thought himself to be gifted in that +way. In the first years of his manhood, when he had been shut up at +Manor Cross, looking after his mother's limited means, with a full +conviction that it was his duty to sacrifice himself to her convenience, +he had been apt to tell himself that he was one of those men who +have to go through life without marrying—or loving. Though +strikingly handsome, he had never known himself to be handsome. +He had never thought himself to be clever, or bright, or agreeable. +High birth had been given to him, and a sense of honour. Of those +gifts he had been well aware and proud enough, but had taken credit +to himself for nothing else. Then had come that startling episode of +his life in which he had fallen in love with Adelaide De Baron, and +then the fact of his marriage with Mary Lovelace. Looking back at +it now, he could hardly understand how it had happened that he had +either fallen in love or married. He certainly was not now the least +in love with Mrs. Houghton. And, though he did love his wife dearly, +though the more he saw of her the more he admired her, yet his +marriage had not made him happy. He had to live on her money, +which galled him, and to be assisted by the Dean's money, which was<!-- Page 230 --> +wormwood to him. And he found himself to be driven whither he +did not wish to go, and to be brought into perils from which his experience +did not suffice to extricate him. He already repented the +step he had taken in regard to his brother, knowing that it was the +Dean who had done it, and not he himself. Had he not married, he +might well have left the battle to be fought in after years,—when his +brother should be dead, and very probably he himself also.</p> + +<p>He was aware that he must be very firm with Mrs. Houghton. +Come what might he must give her to understand quite clearly +that all love-making must be over between them. The horrors of +such a condition of things had been made much clearer to him than +before by his own anxiety in reference to Captain De Baron. But he +knew himself to be too soft-hearted for such firmness. If he could +send some one else, how much better it would be! But, alas! this +was a piece of work which no deputy could do for him. Nor could a +letter serve as a deputy. Let him write as carefully as he might, he +must say things which would condemn him utterly were they to find +their way into Mr. Houghton's hands. One terrible letter had gone +astray, and why not another?</p> + +<p>She had told him to be in Berkeley Square at two, and he was there +very punctually. He would at the moment have given much to find +the house full of people; but she was quite alone. He had thought +that she would receive him with a storm of tears, but when he entered +she was radiant with smiles. Then he remembered how on a former +occasion she had deceived him, making him believe that all her lures to +him meant little or nothing just when he had determined to repudiate +them because he had feared that they meant so much. He must not +allow himself to be won in that way again. He must be firm, even +though she smiled. "What is all this about?" she said in an affected +whisper as soon as the door was closed. He looked very grave and +shook his head. "'Thou canst not say I did it. Never shake thy +gory locks at me.' That wife of yours has found out something, and +has found it out from you, my Lord."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed."</p> + +<p>"What has she found out?"</p> + +<p>"She read a letter to me which you sent to the club."</p> + +<p>"Then I think it very indecent behaviour on her part. Does she +search her husband's correspondence? I don't condescend to do that +sort of thing."</p> + +<p>"It was my fault. I put it into her hand by mistake. But that +does not matter."</p> + +<p>"Not matter! It matters very much to me, I think. Not that I +care. She cannot hurt me. But, George, was not that careless—very +careless; so careless as to be—unkind?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it was careless."</p> + +<p>"And ought you not to think more of me than that? Have you<!-- Page 231 --> +not done me an injury, sir, when you owed me all solicitude and every +possible precaution?" This was not to be denied. If he chose to +receive such letters, he was bound at any rate to keep them secret. +"But men are so foolish—so little thoughtful! What did she say, +George?"</p> + +<p>"She behaved like an angel."</p> + +<p>"Of course. Wives in such circumstances always do. Just a few drops +of anger, and then a deluge of forgiveness. That was it, was it not?"</p> + +<p>"Something like it."</p> + +<p>"Of course. It happens every day,—because men are so stupid, but +at the same time so necessary. But what did she say of me I Was +she angel on my side of the house as well as yours?"</p> + +<p>"Of course she was angry."</p> + +<p>"It did not occur to her that she had been the interloper, and had +taken you away from me?"</p> + +<p>"That was not so. You had married."</p> + +<p>"Psha! Married! Of course I had married. Everybody marries. +You had married; but I did not suppose that for that reason you +would forget me altogether. People must marry as circumstances +suit. It is no good going back to that old story. Why did you not +come to me sooner, and tell me of this tragedy? Why did you leave +me to run after her and write to her?"</p> + +<p>"I have been very unhappy."</p> + +<p>"So you ought to be. But things are never so bad in the wearing +as in the anticipation. I don't suppose she'll go about destroying my +name and doing me a mischief?"</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"Because if she did, you know, I could retaliate."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that, Mrs. Houghton?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing that need disturb you, Lord George. Do not look such +daggers at me. But women have to be forbearing to each other. She +is your wife, and you may be sure I shall never say a nasty word +about her,—unless she makes herself very objectionable to me."</p> + +<p>"Nobody can say nasty things about her."</p> + +<p>"That is all right, then. And now what have you to say to me +about myself? I am not going to be gloomy because a little misfortune +has happened. It is not my philosophy to cry after spilt milk."</p> + +<p>"I will sit down a minute," he said; for hitherto he had been +standing.</p> + +<p>"Certainly; and I will sit opposite to you,—for ten minutes if you +wish it. I see that there is something to be said. What is it?"</p> + +<p>"All that has passed between you and me for the last month or +two must be forgotten."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is it!"</p> + +<p>"I will not make her miserable, nor will I bear a burden upon my +own conscience."<!-- Page 232 --></p> + +<p>"Your conscience! What a speech for a man to make to a woman! +And how about my conscience? And then one thing further. You +say that it must be all forgotten?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed."</p> + +<p>"Can you forget it?"</p> + +<p>"I can strive to do so. By forgetting, one means laying it aside. +We remember chiefly those things which we try to remember."</p> + +<p>"And you will not try to remember me—in the least? You will +lay me aside—like an old garment? Because this—angel—has come +across a scrawl which you were too careless either to burn or to lock +up! You will tell yourself to forget me, as you would a servant that +you had dismissed,—much more easily than you would a dog? Is +that so?"</p> + +<p>"I did not say that I could do it easily."</p> + +<p>"You shall not do it at all. I will not be forgotten. Did you ever +love me, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I did. You know that I did."</p> + +<p>"When? How long since? Have you ever sworn that you loved +me since this—angel—has been your wife?" Looking back as well as +he could, he rather thought that he never had sworn that he loved her +in these latter days. She had often bidden him to do so; but as far +as he could recollect at the moment, he had escaped the absolute utterance +of the oath by some subterfuge. But doubtless he had done +that which had been tantamount to swearing; and, at any rate, he +could not now say that he had never sworn. "Now you come to +tell me that it must all be forgotten! Was it she taught you that +word?"</p> + +<p>"If you upbraid me I will go away."</p> + +<p>"Go, sir,—if you dare. You first betray me to your wife by your +egregious folly, and then tell me that you will leave me because I have +a word to say for myself. Oh, George, I expected more tenderness +than that from you."</p> + +<p>"There is no use in being tender. It can only produce misery and +destruction."</p> + +<p>"Well; of all the cold-blooded speeches I ever heard, that is the +worst. After all that has passed between us, you do not scruple to +tell me that you cannot even express tenderness for me, lest it should +bring you into trouble! Men have felt that before, I do not doubt; +but I hardly think any man was ever hard enough to make such a +speech. I wonder whether Captain De Baron is so considerate."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?"</p> + +<p>"You come here and talk to me about your angel, and then tell me +that you cannot show me even the slightest tenderness, lest it should +make you miserable,—and you expect me to hold my tongue."</p> + +<p>"I don't know why you should mention Captain De Baron."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you why, Lord George. There are five or six of us playing<!-- Page 233 --> +this little comedy. Mr. Houghton and I are married, but we have +not very much to say to each other. It is the same with you and +Mary."</p> + +<p>"I deny it."</p> + +<p>"I daresay; but at the same time you know it to be true. She +consoles herself with Captain De Baron. With whom Mr. Houghton +consoles himself I have never taken the trouble to enquire. I hope +someone is good-natured to him, poor old soul. Then, as to you and +me,—you used, I think, to get consolation here. But such comforts +cost trouble, and you hate trouble." As she said this, she wound her +arm inside his; and he, angry as he was with her for speaking as she +had done of his wife, could not push her from him roughly. "Is not +that how it is, George?"</p> + +<p>"No?"</p> + +<p>"Then I don't think you understand the play as well as I do."</p> + +<p>"No! I deny it all."</p> + +<p>"All?"</p> + +<p>"Everything about Mary. It's a slander to mention that man's +name in connection with her,—a calumny which I will not endure."</p> + +<p>"How is it, then, if they mention mine in connection with you?"</p> + +<p>"I am saying nothing about that."</p> + +<p>"But I suppose you think of it. I am hardly of less importance to +myself than Lady George is to herself. I did think I was not of less +importance to you."</p> + +<p>"Nobody ever was or ever can be of so much importance to me as +my wife, and I will be on good terms with no one who speaks evil of +her."</p> + +<p>"They may say what they like of me?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Houghton must look to that."</p> + +<p>"It is no business of yours, George?"</p> + +<p>He paused a moment, and then found the courage to answer her. +"No—none," he said. Had she confined herself to her own assumed +wrongs, her own pretended affection,—had she contented herself with +quarrelling with him for his carelessness, and had then called upon +him for some renewed expression of love,—he would hardly have been +strong enough to withstand her. But she could not keep her tongue +from speaking evil of his wife. From the moment in which he had +called Mary an angel, it was necessary to her comfort to malign the +angel. She did not quite know the man, or the nature of men generally. +A man, if his mind be given that way, may perhaps with safety +whisper into a woman's ear that her husband is untrue to her. Such +an accusation may serve his purpose. But the woman, on her side, +should hold her peace about the man's wife. A man must be very +degraded indeed if his wife be not holy to him. Lord George had +been driving his wife almost mad during the last twenty-four hours by +implied accusations, and yet she was to him the very holy of holies.<!-- Page 234 --> +All the Popenjoy question was as nothing to him in comparison with +the sanctity of her name. And now, weak as he was, incapable as he +would have been, under any other condition of mind, of extricating +himself from the meshes which this woman was spinning for him, he +was enabled to make an immediate and most salutary plunge by the +genuine anger she had produced. "No, none," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well. The angel is everything to you, and I am nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; my wife is everything to me."</p> + +<p>"How dared you, then, come here and talk to me of love? Do you +think I will stand this,—that I will endure to be treated in this way? +Angel, indeed! I tell you that she cares more for Jack De Baron's +little finger than for your whole body. She is never happy unless he +is with her. I don't think very much of my cousin Jack, but to her +he is a god."</p> + +<p>"It is false."</p> + +<p>"Very well. It is nothing to me; but you can hardly expect, my +Lord, that I should hear from you such pleasant truths as you have +just told me, and not give you back what I believe to be truth in +return."</p> + +<p>"Have I spoken evil of any one? But I will not stay here, Mrs. +Houghton, to make recriminations. You have spoken most cruelly of +a woman who never injured you, who has always been your firm +friend. It is my duty to protect her, and I shall always do so in all +circumstances. Good morning." Then he went before she could say +another word to him.</p> + +<p>He would perhaps have been justified had he been a little proud of +the manner in which he had carried himself through this interview; +but he entertained no such feeling. To the lady he had just left he +feared that he had been rough and almost cruel. She was not to him +the mass of whipped cream turned sour which she may perhaps be to +the reader. Though he had been stirred to anger, he had been indignant +with circumstances rather than with Mrs. Houghton. But in +truth the renewed accusation against his wife made him so wretched +that there was no room in his breast for pride. He had been told that +she liked Jack De Baron's little finger better than his whole body, and +had been so told by one who knew both his wife and Jack De Baron. +Of course there had been spite and malice and every possible evil +passion at work. But then everybody was saying the same thing. +Even though there were not a word of truth in it, such a rumour alone +would suffice to break his heart. How was he to stop cruel tongues, +especially the tongue of this woman, who would now be his bitterest +enemy? If such things were repeated by all connected with him, how +would he be able to reconcile his own family to his wife? There was +nothing which he valued now but the respect which he held in his +own family and that which his wife might hold. And in his own +mind he could not quite acquit her. She would not be made to under<!-- Page 235 -->stand +that she might injure his honour and destroy his happiness +even though she committed no great fault. To take her away with a +strong hand seemed to be his duty. But then there was the Dean, +who would most certainly take her part,—and he was afraid of the +Dean.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">POPENJOY IS POPENJOY.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Then</span> came Lady Brabazon's party. Lord George said nothing +further to his wife about Jack De Baron for some days after that storm +in Berkeley Square,—nor did she to him. She was quite contented +that matters should remain as they now were. She had vindicated +herself, and if he made no further accusation, she was willing to be +appeased. He was by no means contented;—but as a day had been +fixed for them to leave London, and that day was now but a month +absent, he hardly knew how to insist upon an alteration of their +plans. If he did so he must declare war against the Dean, and, for a +time, against his wife also. He postponed, therefore, any decision, +and allowed matters to go on as they were. Mary was no doubt +triumphant in her spirit. She had conquered him for a time, and felt +that it was so. But she was, on that account, more tender and +observant to him than ever. She even offered to give up Lady +Brabazon's party, altogether. She did not much care for Lady +Brabazon's party, and was willing to make a sacrifice that was perhaps +no sacrifice. But to this he did not assent. He declared himself to +be quite ready for Lady Brabazon's party, and to Lady Brabazon's +party they went. As she was on the staircase she asked him a question. +"Do you mind my having a waltz to-night?" He could not bring +himself for the moment to be stern enough to refuse. He knew that +the pernicious man would not be there. He was quite sure that the +question was not asked in reference to the pernicious man. He did not +understand, as he should have done, that a claim was being made for +general emancipation, and he muttered something which was intended +to imply assent. Soon afterwards she took two or three turns with a +stout middle-aged gentleman, a Count somebody, who was connected +with the German embassy. Nothing on earth could have been more +harmless or apparently uninteresting. Then she signified to him that +she had done her duty to Lady Brabazon and was quite ready to go +home. "I'm not particularly bored," he said; "don't mind me." +"But I am," she whispered, laughing, "and as I know you don't +care about it, you might as well take me away." So he took her home. +They were not there above half-an-hour, but she had carried her +point about the waltzing.<!-- Page 236 --></p> + +<p>On the next day the Dean came to town to attend a meeting at Mr. +Battle's chambers by appointment. Lord George met him there, of +course, as they were at any rate supposed to act in strict concert; but +on these days the Dean did not stay in Munster Court when in London.</p> + +<p>He would always visit his daughter, but would endeavour to do so +in her husband's absence, and was unwilling even to dine there. "We +shall be better friends down at Brotherton," he said to her. "He is +always angry with me after discussing this affair of his brother's; and +I am not quite sure that he likes seeing me here." This he had said +on a previous occasion, and now the two men met in Lincoln's-Inn-Fields, +not having even gone there together.</p> + +<p>At this meeting the lawyer told them a strange story, and one which +to the Dean was most unsatisfactory,—one which he resolutely determined +to disbelieve. "The Marquis," said Mr. Battle, "had certainly +gone through two marriage ceremonies with the Italian lady, one before +the death and one after the death of her first reputed husband. And as +certainly the so-called Popenjoy had been born before the second ceremony." +So much the Dean believed very easily, and the information +tallied altogether with his own views. If this was so, the so-called +Popenjoy could not be a real Popenjoy, and his daughter would be +Marchioness of Brotherton when this wicked ape of a marquis should +die; and her son, should she have one, would be the future marquis. +But then there came the remainder of the lawyer's story. Mr. Battle +was inclined, from all that he had learned, to believe that the +Marchioness had never really been married at all to the man whose +name she had first borne, and that the second marriage had been +celebrated merely to save appearances.</p> + +<p>"What appearances!" exclaimed the Dean. Mr. Battle shrugged +his shoulders. Lord George sat in gloomy silence. "I don't believe +a word of it," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>Then the lawyer went on with his story. This lady had been +betrothed early in life to the Marchese Luigi; but the man had become +insane—partially insane and by fits and starts. For some reason, not +as yet understood, which might probably never be understood, the +lady's family had thought it expedient that the lady should bear the +name of the man to whom she was to be married. She had done so +for some years and had been in possession of some income belonging +to him. But Mr. Battle was of opinion that she had never been Luigi's +wife. Further enquiries might possibly be made, and might add to +further results. But they would be very expensive. A good deal of +money had already been spent. "What did Lord George wish?"</p> + +<p>"I think we have done enough," said Lord George, slowly,—thinking +also that he had been already constrained to do much too +much.</p> + +<p>"It must be followed out to the end," said the Dean. "What! +Here is a woman who professed for years to be a man's wife, who<!-- Page 237 --> +bore his name, who was believed by everybody to have been his +wife——"</p> + +<p>"I did not say that, Mr. Dean," interrupted the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"Who lived on the man's revenues as his wife, and even bore his +title, and now in such an emergency as this we are to take a cock and +bull story as gospel. Remember, Mr. Battle, what is at stake."</p> + +<p>"Very much is at stake, Mr. Dean, and therefore these enquiries +have been made,—at a very great expense. But our own evidence as +far as it goes is all against us. The Luigi family say that there was no +marriage. Her family say that there was, but cannot prove it. The +child may die, you know."</p> + +<p>"Why should he die?" asked Lord George.</p> + +<p>"I am trying the matter all round, you know. I am told the poor +child is in ill health. One has got to look at probabilities. Of course +you do not abandon a right by not prosecuting it now."</p> + +<p>"It would be a cruelty to the boy to let him be brought up as +Lord Popenjoy and afterwards dispossessed," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"You, gentlemen, must decide," said the lawyer. "I only say +that I do not recommend further steps."</p> + +<p>"I will do nothing further," said Lord George. "In the first place +I cannot afford it."</p> + +<p>"We will manage that between us," said the Dean. "We need not +trouble Mr. Battle with that. Mr. Battle will not fear but that all +expenses will be paid."</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," said Mr. Battle, smiling.</p> + +<p>"I do not at all believe the story," said the Dean. "It does not +sound like truth. If I spent my last shilling in sifting the matter to +the bottom, I would go on with it. Though I were obliged to leave +England for twelve months myself, I would do it. A man is bound to +ascertain his own rights."</p> + +<p>"I will have nothing more to do with it," said Lord George, rising +from his chair. "As much has been done as duty required; perhaps +more. Mr. Battle, good morning. If we could know as soon as +possible what this unfortunate affair has cost, I shall be obliged." He +asked his father-in-law to accompany him, but the Dean said that he +would speak a word or two further to Mr. Battle and remained.</p> + +<p>At his club Lord George was much surprised to find a note from his +brother. The note was as follows:—</p> + + + +<a name="tn_pg_246"></a><!--TN: I have used blockquoted text here similar to that used elsewhere in the text for letters--> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Would you mind coming to me here to-morrow or the next day +at 3.</p> +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature3"><a name="tn_pg_246a"></a><!-- TN: new paragraph added here-->"B. Scumberg's Hotel, Tuesday."<br></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>This to Lord George was very strange indeed. He could not but +remember all the circumstances of his former visit to his brother,—how +he had been insulted, how his wife had been vilified, how his +brother had heaped scorn on him. At first he thought that he was +bound to refuse to do as he was asked. But why should his brother +ask him? And his brother was his brother,—the head of his family.<!-- Page 238 --> +He decided at last that he would go, and left a note himself at +Scumberg's Hotel that evening, saying that he would be there on the +morrow.</p> + +<p>He was very much perplexed in spirit as he thought of the coming +interview. He went to the Dean's club and to the Dean's hotel, +hoping to find the Dean, and thinking that as he had consented to act +with the Dean against his brother, he was bound in honour to let the +Dean know of the new phase in the affair. But he did not find his father-in-law. +The Dean returned to Brotherton on the following morning, +and therefore knew nothing of this meeting till some days after it had +taken place. The language which the Marquis had used to his brother +when they were last together had been such as to render any friendly intercourse +almost impossible. And then the mingled bitterness, frivolity, +and wickedness of his brother, made every tone of the man's voice and +every glance of his eye distasteful to Lord George. Lord George was +always honest, was generally serious, and never malicious. There +could be no greater contrast than that which had been produced +between the brothers, either by difference of disposition from their +birth, or by the varied circumstances of a residence on an Italian lake +and one at Manor Cross. The Marquis thought his brother to be a +fool, and did not scruple to say so on all occasions. Lord George felt +that his brother was a knave, but would not have so called him on any +consideration. The Marquis in sending for his brother hoped that +even after all that had passed, he might make use of Lord George. +Lord George in going to his brother, hoped that even after all that +had passed he might be of use to the Marquis.</p> + +<p>When he was shown into the sitting-room at the hotel, the +Marchioness was again there. She, no doubt, had been tutored. +She got up at once and shook hands with her brother-in-law, smiling +graciously. It must have been a comfort to both of them that they +spoke no common language, as they could hardly have had many +thoughts to interchange with each other.</p> + +<p>"I wonder why the deuce you never learned Italian," said the +Marquis.</p> + +<p>"We never were taught," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"No;—nobody in England ever is taught anything but Latin and +Greek,—with this singular result, that after ten or a dozen years of +learning not one in twenty knows a word of either language. That is +our English idea of education. In after life a little French may be +picked up, from necessity; but it is French of the very worst kind. +My wonder is that Englishman can hold their own in the world +at all."</p> + +<p>"They do," said Lord George,—to whom all this was ear-piercing +blasphemy. The national conviction that an Englishman could thrash +three foreigners, and if necessary eat them, was strong with him.</p> + +<p>"Yes; there is a ludicrous strength even in their pig-headedness.<!-- Page 239 --> +But I always think that Frenchmen, Italians, and Prussians must in +dealing with us, be filled with infinite disgust. They must ever be +saying, 'pig, pig, pig,' beneath their breath, at every turn."</p> + +<p>"They don't dare to say it out loud," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"They are too courteous, my dear fellow." Then he said a few +words to his wife in Italian, upon which she left the room, again +shaking hands with her brother-in-law, and again smiling.</p> + +<p>Then the Marquis rushed at once into the middle of his affairs.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think George that you are an infernal fool to quarrel +with me."</p> + +<p>"You have quarrelled with me. I haven't quarrelled with you."</p> + +<p>"Oh no;—not at all! When you send lawyer's clerks all over Italy +to try to prove my boy to be a bastard, and that is not quarrelling with +me! When you accuse my wife of bigamy that is not quarrelling with +me! When you conspire to make my house in the country too hot +to hold me, that is not quarrelling with me!"</p> + +<p>"How have I conspired? with whom have I conspired?"</p> + +<p>"When I explained my wishes about the house at Cross Hall, why +did you encourage those foolish old maids to run counter to me. +You must have understood pretty well that it would not suit either +of us to be near the other, and yet you chose to stick up for legal +rights."</p> + +<p>"We thought it better for my mother."</p> + +<p>"My mother would have consented to anything that I proposed. +Do you think I don't know how the land lies? Well; what have you +learned in Italy?" Lord George was silent. "Of course, I know. +I'm not such a fool as not to keep my ears and eyes open. As far as +your enquiries have gone yet, are you justified in calling Popenjoy a +bastard?"</p> + +<p>"I have never called him so;—never. I have always declared my +belief and my wishes to be in his favour."</p> + +<p>"Then why the d—— have you made all this rumpus?"</p> + +<p>"Because it was necessary to be sure. When a man marries the +same wife twice over——"</p> + +<p>"Have you never heard of that being done before? Are you so +ignorant as not to know that there are a hundred little reasons which +may make that expedient? You have made your enquiries now and +what is the result?"</p> + +<p>Lord George paused a moment before he replied, and then answered +with absolute honesty. "It is all very odd to me. That may be my +English prejudice. But I do think that your boy is legitimate."</p> + +<p>"You are satisfied as to that?"</p> + +<p>He paused again, meditating his reply. He did not wish to be untrue +to the Dean, but then he was very anxious to be true to his brother. +He remembered that in the Dean's presence he had told the lawyer +that he would have nothing to do with further enquiries. He had<!-- Page 240 --> +asked for the lawyer's bill, thereby withdrawing from the investigation. +"Yes," he said slowly; "I am satisfied."</p> + +<p>"And you mean to do nothing further?"</p> + +<p>Again he was very slow, remembering how necessary it would be +that he should tell all this to the Dean, and how full of wrath the Dean +would be. "No; I do not mean to do anything further."</p> + +<p>"I may take that as your settled purpose?"</p> + +<p>There was another pause, and then he spoke, "Yes; you may."</p> + +<p>"Then, George, let us try and forget what has passed. It cannot +pay for you and me to quarrel. I shall not stay in England very long. +I don't like it. It was necessary that the people about should know +that I had a wife and son, and so I brought him and her to this comfortless +country. I shall return before the winter, and for anything +that I care you may all go back to Manor Cross."</p> + +<p>"I don't think my mother would like that."</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't she like it? I suppose I was to be allowed to have +my own house when I wanted it? I hope there was no offence in +that, even to that dragon Sarah? At any rate, you may as well look +after the property; and if they won't live there, you can. But there's +one question I want to ask you."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"What do you think of your precious father-in-law; and what do +you think that I must think of him? Will you not admit that for +a vulgar, impudent brute, he is about as bad as even England can +supply?" Of course Lord George had nothing to say in answer to +this. "He is going on with this tom-foolery, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"You mean the enquiry?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I mean the enquiry whether my son and your nephew is a +bastard. I know he put you up to it. Am I right in saying that he +has not abandoned it?"</p> + +<p>"I think you are right."</p> + +<p>"Then by heaven I'll ruin him. He may have a little money, but +I don't think his purse is quite so long as mine. I'll lead him such a +dance that he shall wish he had never heard the name of Germain. I'll +make his deanery too hot to hold him. Now, George, as between you +and me this shall be all passed over. That poor child is not strong, and +after all you may probably be my heir. I shall never live in England, +and you are welcome to the house. I can be very bitter, but I can +forgive; and as far as you are concerned I do forgive. But I expect +you to drop your precious father-in-law." Lord George was again +silent. He could not say that he would drop the Dean; but at this +moment he was not sufficiently fond of the Dean to rise up in his +stirrups and fight a battle for him. "You understand me," continued +the Marquis, "I don't want any assurance from you. He is determined +to prosecute an enquiry adverse to the honour of your family, and in +opposition to your settled convictions. I don't think that after that<!-- Page 241 --> +you can doubt about your duty. Come and see me again before long; +won't you?" Lord George said that he would come again before long, +and then departed.</p> + +<p>As he walked home his mind was sorely perplexed and divided. He +had made up his mind to take no further share in the Popenjoy investigation, +and must have been right to declare as much to his brother. +His conscience was clear as to that. And then there were many reasons +which induced him to feel coldly about the Dean. His own wife had +threatened him with her father. And the Dean was always driving +him. And he hated the Dean's money. He felt that the Dean was +not quite all that a gentleman should be. But, nevertheless, it behoved +him above all things to be honest and straightforward with the +Dean.</p> + +<p>There had been something in his interview with his brother to +please him, but it had not been all delightful.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">PREPARATIONS FOR THE BALL.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">How</span> was he to keep faith with the Dean? This was Lord George's +first trouble after his reconciliation with his brother. The Dean was +back at the deanery, and Lord George mistrusted his own power of +writing such a letter as would be satisfactory on so abstruse a matter. +He knew that he should fail in making a good story, even face to face, +and that his letter would be worse than spoken words. In intellect he +was much inferior to the Dean, and was only too conscious of his +own inferiority. In this condition of mind he told his story to his +wife. She had never even seen the Marquis, and had never quite +believed in those ogre qualities which had caused so many groans to +Lady Sarah and Lady Susanna. When, therefore, her husband told +her that he had made his peace with his brother she was inclined to +rejoice. "And Popenjoy is Popenjoy," she said smiling.</p> + +<p>"I believe he is, with all my heart."</p> + +<p>"And that is to be an end of it, George? You know that I have +never been eager for any grandeur."</p> + +<p>"I know it. You have behaved beautifully all along."</p> + +<p>"Oh; I won't boast. Perhaps I ought to have been more ambitious +for you. But I hate quarrels, and I shouldn't like to have claimed +anything which did not really belong to us. It is all over now."</p> + +<p>"I can't answer for your father."</p> + +<p>"But you and papa are all one."</p> + +<p>"Your father is very steadfast. He does not know yet that I have<!-- Page 242 --> +seen my brother. I think you might write to him. He ought to know +what has taken place. Perhaps he would come up again if he heard +that I had been with my brother."</p> + +<p>"Shall I ask him to come here?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. Why should he not come here? There is his room. +He can always come if he pleases." So the matter was left, and Mary +wrote her letter. It was not very lucid;—but it could hardly have been +lucid, the writer knowing so few of the details. "George has become +friends with his brother," she said, "and wishes me to tell you. He +says that Popenjoy is Popenjoy, and I am very glad. It was such a +trouble. George thinks you will come up to town when you hear, +and begs you will come here. Do come, papa! It makes me quite +wretched when you go to that horrid hotel. There is such a lot of +quarrelling, and it almost seems as if you were going to quarrel with +us when you don't come here. Pray, papa, never, never do that. If +I thought you and George weren't friends it would break my heart. +Your room is always ready for you, and if you'll say what day you'll +be here I will get a few people to meet you." The letter was much +more occupied with her desire to see her father than with that +momentous question on which her father was so zealously intent. +Popenjoy is Popenjoy! It was very easy to assert so much. Lord +George would no doubt give way readily, because he disliked the +trouble of the contest. But it was not so with the Dean. "He is no +more Popenjoy than I am Popenjoy," said the Dean to himself when +he read the letter. Yes; he must go up to town again. He must +know what had really taken place between the two brothers. That +was essential, and he did not doubt but that he should get the exact +truth from Lord George. But he would not go to Munster Court. +There was already a difference of opinion between him and his son-in-law +sufficient to make such a sojourn disagreeable. If not disagreeable +to himself, he knew that it would be so to Lord George. He was +sorry to vex Mary, but Mary's interests were more at his heart than +her happiness. It was now the business of his life to make her a Marchioness, +and that business he would follow whether he made himself, +her, and others happy or unhappy. He wrote to her, bidding her tell +her husband that he would again be in London on a day which he +named, but adding that for the present he would prefer going to the +hotel. "I cannot help it," said Lord George moodily. "I have done +all I could to make him welcome here. If he chooses to stand off and +be stiff he must do so."</p> + +<p>At this time Lord George had many things to vex him. Every day +he received at his club a letter from Mrs. Houghton, and each letter +was a little dagger. He was abused by every epithet, every innuendo, +and every accusation familiar to the tongues and pens of the irritated +female mind. A stranger reading them would have imagined that he +had used all the arts of a Lothario to entrap the unguarded affections<!-- Page 243 --> +of the writer, and then, when successful, had first neglected the lady +and afterwards betrayed her. And with every stab so given there was +a command expressed that he should come instantly to Berkeley +Square in order that he might receive other and worse gashes at the +better convenience of the assailant. But as Mrs. Bond's ducks would +certainly not have come out of the pond had they fully understood +the nature of that lady's invitation, so neither did Lord George go to +Berkeley Square in obedience to these commands. Then there came a +letter which to him was no longer a little dagger, but a great sword,—a +sword making a wound so wide that his life-blood seemed to flow. +There was no accusation of betrayal in this letter. It was simply the +broken-hearted wailings of a woman whose love was too strong for +her. Had he not taught her to regard him as the only man in the +world whose presence was worth having? Had he not so wound himself +into every recess of her heart as to make life without seeing him +insupportable? Could it be possible that, after having done all this, +he had no regard for her? Was he so hard, so cruel, such adamant +as to deny her at least a farewell? As for herself, she was now beyond +all fear of consequences. She was ready to die if it were necessary,—ready +to lose all the luxuries of her husband's position rather than +never see him again. She had a heart! She was inclined to doubt +whether any one among her acquaintances was so burdened. Why, +oh why, had she thought so steadfastly of his material interests when +he used to kneel at her feet and ask her to be his bride, before he had +ever seen Mary Lovelace? Then this long epistle was brought to an +end. "Come to me to-morrow, A. H. Destroy this the moment you +have read it." The last behest he did obey. He would put no second +letter from this woman in his wife's way. He tore the paper into +minute fragments, and deposited the portions in different places. That +was easily done; but what should be done as to the other behest? If +he went to Berkeley Square again, would he be able to leave it +triumphantly as he had done on his last visit? That he did not wish +to see her for his own sake he was quite certain. But he thought it +incumbent on him to go yet once again. He did not altogether believe +all that story as to her tortured heart. Looking back at what had +passed between them since he had first thought himself to be in love +with her, he could not remember such a depth of love-making on his +part as that which she described. In the ordinary way he had proposed +to her, and had, in the ordinary way, been rejected. Since that, +and since his marriage, surely the protestations of affection had come +almost exclusively from the lady! He thought that it was so, and yet +was hardly sure. If he had got such a hold on her affections as she +described, certainly, then, he owed to her some reparation. But as he +remembered her great head of false hair and her paint, and called to +mind his wife's description of her, he almost protested to himself that +she was deceiving him;—he almost read her rightly. Nevertheless,<!-- Page 244 --> +he would go once more. He would go and tell her sternly that the +thing must come to an end, and that no more letters were to be +written.</p> + +<p>He did go and found Jack De Baron there, and heard Jack discourse +enthusiastically about Mrs. Montacute Jones's ball, which was +to be celebrated in two or three days from the present time. Then +Mrs. Houghton was very careful to ask some question in Lord George's +presence as to some special figure-dance which was being got up for +the occasion. It was a dance newly introduced from Moldavia, +and was the most ravishing thing in the way of dancing that had ever +yet found its way into this country. Nobody had yet seen it, and it +was being kept a profound secret,—to be displayed only at Mrs. Montacute +Jones's party. It was practised in secret in her back drawing +room by the eight performers, with the assistance of a couple of most +trustworthy hired musicians, whom that liberal old lady, Mrs. Montacute +Jones, supplied,—so that the rehearsals might make the performers +perfect for the grand night. This was the story as told with +great interest by Mrs. Houghton, who seemed for the occasion almost +to have recovered from her heart complaint. That, however, was +necessarily kept in abeyance during Jack's presence. Jack, though he +had been enthusiastic about Mrs. Jones and her ball before Lord +George's arrival, and though he had continued to talk freely up to a +certain point, suddenly became reticent as to the great Moldavian +dance. But Mrs. Houghton would not be reticent. She declared the +four couple who had been selected as performers to be the happy, fortunate +ones of the season. Mrs. Montacute Jones was a nasty old +woman for not having asked her. Of course there was a difficulty, but +there might have been two sets. "And Jack is such a false loon," +she said to Lord George, "that he won't show me one of the figures."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to dance it?" asked Lord George.</p> + +<p>"I fancy I'm to be one of the team."</p> + +<p>"He is to dance with Mary," said Mrs. Houghton. Then Lord +George thought that he understood the young man's reticence, and he +was once again very wretched. There came that cloud upon his brow +which never sat there without being visible to all who were in the company. +No man told the tale of his own feelings so plainly as he did. +And Mrs. Houghton, though declaring herself to be ignorant of the +figure, had described the dance as a farrago of polkas, waltzes, and +galops, so that the thing might be supposed to be a fast rapturous +whirl from the beginning to the end. And his wife was going through +this indecent exhibition at Mrs. Montacute Jones' ball with Captain +de Baron after all that he had said!</p> + +<p>"You are quite wrong in your ideas about the dance," said Jack to +his cousin. "It is the quietest thing out,—almost as grave as a +minuet. It's very pretty, but people here will find it too slow." It +may be doubted whether he did much good by this explanation. Lord<!-- Page 245 --> +George thought that he was lying, though he had almost thought +before that Mrs. Houghton was lying on the other side. But it was +true at any rate that after all that had passed a special arrangement +had been made for his wife to dance with Jack De Baron. And then +his wife had been called by implication, "One of the team."</p> + +<p>Jack got up to go, but before he left the room Aunt Ju was there, +and then that sinful old woman Mrs. Montacute Jones herself. "My +dear," she said in answer to a question from Mrs. Houghton about the +dance, "I am not going to tell anybody anything about it. I don't +know why it should have been talked of. Four couple of good looking +young people are going to amuse themselves, and I have no doubt that +those who look on will be very much gratified." Oh, that his wife, +that Lady Mary Germain, should be talked of as one of "four couple +of good looking young people," and that she should be about to dance +with Jack De Baron, in order that strangers might be gratified by +looking at her!</p> + +<p>It was manifest that nothing special could be said to Mrs. Houghton +on that occasion, as one person came after another. She looked all +the while perfectly disembarrassed. Nobody could have imagined +that she was in the presence of the man whose love was all the world +to her. When he got up to take his leave she parted from him as +though he were no more to her than he ought to have been. And +indeed he too had for the time been freed from the flurry of his affair +with Mrs. Houghton by the other flurry occasioned by the Moldavian +dance. The new dance was called, he had been told, the Kappa-kappa. +There was something in the name suggestive of another dance of which +he had heard,—and he was very unhappy.</p> + +<p>He found the Dean in Munster Court when he reached his own +house. The first word that his wife spoke to him was about the ball. +"George, papa is going with me on Friday to Mrs. Montacute Jones'."</p> + +<p>"I hope he will like it," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"I wish you would come."</p> + +<p>"Why should I go? I have already said that I would not."</p> + +<p>"As for the invitation that does not signify in the least. Do come +just about twelve o'clock. We've got up such a dance, and I should +like you to come and see it."</p> + +<p>"Who is we?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—the parties are not quite arranged yet. I think I'm to +dance with Count Costi. Something depends on colours of dress and +other matters. The gentlemen are all to be in some kind of uniform. +We have rehearsed it, and in rehearsing we have done it all round, one +with the other."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell me before?"</p> + +<p>"We weren't to tell till it was settled."</p> + +<p>"I mean to go and see it," said the Dean. "I delight in anything +of that kind."<!-- Page 246 --></p> + +<p>Mary was so perfectly easy in the matter, so free from doubt, so +disembarrassed, that he was for the moment tranquillised. She had +said that she was to dance, not with that pernicious Captain, but with +a foreign Count. He did not like foreign Counts, but at the present +moment he preferred any one to Jack De Baron. He did not for a +moment doubt her truth. And she had been true,—though Jack De +Baron and Mrs. Houghton had been true also. When Mary had been +last at Mrs. Jones' house the matter had not been quite settled, and +in her absence Jack had foolishly, if not wrongly, carried his point +with the old lady. It had been decided that the performers were to +go through their work in the fashion that might best achieve the +desired effect;—that they were not to dance exactly with whom they +pleased, but were to have their parts assigned them as actors on a +stage. Jack no doubt had been led by his own private wishes in +securing Mary as his partner, but of that contrivance on his part she +had been ignorant when she gave her programme of the affair to her +husband. "Won't you come in and see it?" she said again.</p> + +<p>"I am not very fond of those things. Perhaps I may come in for a +few minutes."</p> + +<p>"I am fond of them," said the Dean. "I think any innocent thing +that makes life joyous and pretty is good."</p> + +<p>"That is rather begging the question," said Lord George, as he left +the room.</p> + +<p>Mary had not known what her husband meant by begging the question, +but the Dean had of course understood him. "I hope he is not +going to become ascetic," he said. "I hope at least that he will not +insist that you should be so."</p> + +<p>"It is not his nature to be very gay," she answered.</p> + +<p>On the next day, in the morning, was the last rehearsal, and then +Mary learned what was her destiny. She regretted it, but could not +remonstrate. Jack's uniform was red. The Count's dress was blue +and gold. Her dress was white, and she was told that the white and +red must go together. There was nothing more to be said. She +could not plead that her husband was afraid of Jack De Baron. Nor +certainly would she admit to herself that she was in the least afraid +of him herself. But for her husband's foolish jealousy she would +infinitely have preferred the arrangement as now made,—just as a +little girl prefers as a playmate a handsome boy whom she has long +known, to some ill-visaged stranger with whom she has never quarrelled +and never again made friends. But when she saw her husband she +found herself unable to tell him of the change which had been made. +She was not actor enough to be able to mention Jack De Baron's name +to him with tranquillity.</p> + +<p>On the next morning,—the morning of the important day,—she +heard casually from Mrs. Jones that Lord George had been at Mrs. +Houghton's house. She had quite understood from her husband that<!-- Page 247 --> +he intended to see that evil woman again after the discovery and reading +of the letter. He had himself told her that he intended it; and +she, if she had not actually assented, had made no protest against his +doing so. But that visit, represented as being one final necessary +visit, had, she was well aware, been made some time since. She had +not asked him what had taken place. She had been unwilling to show +any doubt by such a question. The evil woman's name had never +been on her tongue since the day on which the letter had been read. +But now, when she heard that he was there again, so soon, as a friend +joining in general conversation in the evil woman's house, the matter +did touch her. Could it be that he was deceiving her after all, and +that he loved the woman? Did he really like that helmet, that paint +and that affected laugh? And had he lied to her,—deceived her with a +premeditated story which must have been full of lies? She could +hardly bring herself to believe this; and yet, why, why, why should +he be there? The visit of which he had spoken had been one intended +to put an end to all close friendship,—one in which he was to tell the +woman that though the scandal of an outward quarrel might be +avoided, he and she were to meet no more. And yet he was there. +For aught she knew, he might be there every day! She did know that +Mrs. Montacute Jones had found him there. Then he could come +home to her and talk of the impropriety of dancing! He could do +such thinks as this, and yet be angry with her because she liked the +society of Captain De Baron!</p> + +<p>Certainly she would dance with Captain De Baron. Let him come +and see her dancing with him; and then, if he dared to upbraid her, +she would ask him why he continued his intimacy in Berkeley Square. +In her anger she almost began to think that a quarrel was necessary. +Was it not manifest that he was deceiving her about that woman? The +more she thought of it the more wretched she became; but on that +day she said nothing of it to him. They dined together, the Dean +dining with them. He was perturbed and gloomy, the Dean having +assured them that he did not mean to allow the Popenjoy question to +rest. "I stand in no awe of your brother," the Dean had said to him. +This had angered Lord George, and he had refused to discuss the +matter any further.</p> + +<p>At nine Lady George went up to dress, and at half-past ten she +started with her father. At that time her husband had left the house +and had said not a word further as to his intention of going to Mrs. +Jones' house. "Do you think he will come?" she said to the Dean.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word I don't know. He seems to me to be in an ill-humour +with all the world."</p> + +<p>"Don't quarrel with him, papa."</p> + +<p>"I do not mean to do so. I never mean to quarrel with anyone, +and least of all with him. But I must do what I conceive to be my +duty whether he likes it or not."<!-- Page 248 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">THE KAPPA-KAPPA.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Mrs. Montacute Jones'</span> house in Grosvenor Place was very large +and very gorgeous. On this occasion it was very gorgeous indeed. The +party had grown in dimensions. The new Moldavian dance had become +the topic of general discourse. Everybody wanted to see the Kappa-kappa. +Count Costi, Lord Giblet, young Sir Harry Tripletoe, and, no +doubt, Jack De Baron also, had talked a good deal about it at the +clubs. It had been intended to be a secret, and the ladies, probably, +had been more reticent. Lady Florence Fitzflorence had just mentioned +it to her nineteen specially intimate friends. Madame Gigi, the +young wife of the old Bohemian minister, had spoken of it only to the +diplomatic set; Miss Patmore Green had been as silent as death, except +in her own rather large family, and Lady George had hardly told anybody, +except her father. But, nevertheless, the secret had escaped, +and great efforts had been made to secure invitations. "I can get +you to the Duchess of Albury's in July if you can manage it for me," +one young lady said to Jack De Baron.</p> + +<p>"Utterly impossible!" said Jack, to whom the offered bribe was not +especially attractive. "There won't be standing room in the cellars. +I went down on my knees to Mrs. Montacute Jones for a very old +friend, and she simply asked me whether I was mad." This was, of +course, romance; but, nevertheless, the crowd was great, and the +anxiety to see the Kappa-kappa universal.</p> + +<p>By eleven the dancing had commenced. Everything had been +arranged in the strictest manner. Whatever dance might be going +on was to be brought to a summary close at twelve o'clock, and then +the Kappa-kappa was to be commenced. It had been found that the +dance occupied exactly forty minutes. When it was over the doors of +the banquetting hall would be opened. The Kappa-kappaites would +then march into supper, and the world at large would follow them.</p> + +<p>Lady George, when she first entered the room, found a seat near +the hostess, and sat herself down, meaning to wait for the important +moment. She was a little flurried as she thought of various things. +There was the evil woman before her, already dancing. The evil +woman had nodded at her, and had then quickly turned away, determined +not to see that her greeting was rejected; and there was +Augusta Mildmay absolutely dancing with Jack De Baron, and looking +as though she enjoyed the fun. But to Mary there was something +terrible in it all. She had been so desirous to be happy,—to be gay,—to +amuse herself, and yet to be innocent. Her father's somewhat +epicurean doctrines had filled her mind completely. And what had<!-- Page 249 --> +hitherto come of it? Her husband mistrusted her; and she at this +moment certainly mistrusted him most grievously. Could she fail to +mistrust him? And she, absolutely conscious of purity, had been so +grievously suspected! As she looked round on the dresses and diamonds, +and heard the thick hum of voices, and saw on all sides the +pretence of cordiality, as she watched the altogether unhidden flirtations +of one girl, and the despondent frown of another, she began to +ask herself whether her father had not been wrong when he insisted +that she should be taken to London. Would she not have been more +safe and therefore more happy even down at Cross Hall, with her two +virtuous sisters-in-law? What would become of her should she quarrel +with her husband, and how should she not quarrel with him if he +would suspect her, and would frequent the house of that evil woman?</p> + +<p>Then Jack De Baron came up to her, talking to her father. The +Dean liked the young man, who had always something to say for himself, +whose manners were lively, and who, to tell the truth, was more +than ordinarily civil to Lady George's father. Whether Jack would +have put himself out of the way to describe the Kappa-kappa to any +other dignitary of the Church may be doubted, but he had explained +it all very graciously to the Dean. "So it seems that, after all, you +are to dance with Captain De Baron," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"Yes; isn't it hard upon me? I was to have stood up with a real +French Count, who has real diamond buttons, and now I am to be put +off with a mere British Captain, because my white frock is supposed to +suit his red coat!"</p> + +<p>"And who has the Count?"</p> + +<p>"That odiously fortunate Lady Florence;—and she has diamonds +of her own! I think they should have divided the diamonds. Madame +Gigi has the Lord. Between ourselves, papa,"—and as she said this +she whispered, and both her father and Jack bent over to hear her— +"we are rather afraid of our Lord; ain't we, Captain De Baron? +There has been ever so much to manage, as we none of us quite +wanted the Lord. Madame Gigi talks very little English, so we were +able to put him off upon her."</p> + +<p>"And does the Lord talk French?"</p> + +<p>"That doesn't signify as Giblet never talks at all," said Jack.</p> + +<p>"Why did you have him?"</p> + +<p>"To tell you the truth, among us all there is rather a hope that he +will propose to Miss Patmore Green. Dear Mrs. Montacute Jones is +very clever at these things, and saw at a glance that nothing would be +so likely to make him do it as seeing Madeline Green dancing with +Tripletoe. No fellow ever did dance so well as Tripletoe, or looked +half so languishing. You see, Dean, there are a good many in's and +out's in these matters, and they have to be approached carefully." +The Dean was amused, and his daughter would have been happy, but +for the double care which sat heavy at her heart. Then Jack suggested<!-- Page 250 --> +to her that she might as well stand up for a square dance. All the +other Kappa-kappaites had danced or were dancing. The one thing on +which she was firmly determined was that she would not be afraid of +Captain De Baron. Whatever she did now she did immediately under +her father's eye. She made no reply, but got up and put her hand on +the Captain's arm without spoken assent, as a woman will do when she +is intimate with a man.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, for a very young creature I never saw such impudence +as that woman's," said a certain Miss Punter to Augusta +Mildmay. Miss Punter was a great friend of Augusta Mildmay, and +was watching her friend's broken heart with intense interest.</p> + +<p>"It is disgusting," said Augusta.</p> + +<p>"She doesn't seem to mind the least who sees it. She must mean +to leave Lord George altogether, or she would never go on like that. +De Baron wouldn't be such a fool as to go off with her?"</p> + +<p>"Men are fools enough for anything," said the broken-hearted one. +While this was going on Mary danced her square dance complaisantly; +and her proud father, looking on, thought that she was by far the +prettiest woman in the room.</p> + +<p>Before the quadrille was over a gong was struck, and the music stopped +suddenly. It was twelve o'clock, and the Kappa-kappa was to be +danced. It is hard in most amusements to compel men and women +into disagreeable punctuality; but the stopping of music will bring a +dance to a sudden end. There were some who grumbled, and one or +two declared that they would not even stay to look at the Kappa-kappa. +But Mrs. Montacute Jones was a great autocrat; and in five +minutes' time the four couples were arranged, with ample space, in spite +of the pressing crowd.</p> + +<p>It must be acknowledged that Jack De Baron had given no correct +idea of the dance when he said that it was like a minuet; but it must +be remembered also that Lady George had not been a party to that +deceit. The figure was certainly a lively figure. There was much +waltzing to quick time, the glory of which seemed to consist in going +backwards, and in the interweaving of the couples without striking each +other, as is done in skating. They were all very perfect, except poor +Lord Giblet, who once or twice nearly fell into trouble. During the +performance they all changed partners more than once, but each lady +came back to her own after very short intervals. All those who were +not envious declared it to be very pretty and prophesied great future +success for the Kappa-kappa. Those who were very wise and very discreet +hinted that it might become a romp when danced without all the +preparation which had been given to it on the present occasion. It +certainly became faster as it progressed, and it was evident that considerable +skill and considerable physical power were necessary for its +completion. "It would be a deal too stagey for my girls," said Mrs. +Conway Smith, whose "girls" had, during the last ten years, gone<!-- Page 251 --> +through every phase of flirtation invented in these latter times. Perhaps +it did savour a little too much of ballet practise; perhaps it was true that +with less care there might have been inconveniences. Faster it grew +and faster; but still they had all done it before, and done it with absolute +accuracy. It was now near the end. Each lady had waltzed a turn with +each gentleman. Lady George had been passed on from the Count to +Sir Harry, and from Sir Harry to Lord Giblet. After her turn it was +his lordship's duty to deliver her up to her partner, with whom she +would make a final turn round the dancing space; and then the Kappa-kappa +would have been danced. But alas! as Lord Giblet was doing +this he lost his head and came against the Count and Madame Gigi. +Lady George was almost thrown to the ground, but was caught by the +Captain, who had just parted with Lady Florence to Sir Harry. But +poor Mary had been almost on the floor, and could hardly have been +saved without something approaching to the violence of an embrace.</p> + +<p>Lord George had come into the room very shortly after the Kappa-kappa +had been commenced, but had not at once been able to get near +the dancers. Gradually he worked his way through the throng, and +when he first saw the performers could not tell who was his wife's +partner. She was then waltzing backwards with Count Costi; and he, +though he hated waltzing, and considered the sin to be greatly aggravated +by the backward movement, and though he hated Counts, was +still somewhat pacified. He had heard since he was in the room how +the partners were arranged, and had thought that his wife had deceived +him. The first glance was reassuring. But Mary soon returned +to her real partner; and he slowly ascertained that she was in very +truth waltzing with Captain De Baron. He stood there, a little behind +the first row of spectators, never for a moment seen by his wife, but +able himself to see everything, with a brow becoming every moment +blacker and blacker. To him the exhibition was in every respect objectionable. +The brightness of the apparel of the dancers was in itself +offensive to him. The approach that had been made to the garishness +of a theatrical performance made the whole thing, in his eyes, unfit for +modest society. But that his wife should be one of the performers, +that she should be gazed at by a crowd as she tripped about, and that, +after all that had been said, she should be tripping in the arms of Captain +De Baron, was almost more than he could endure. Close to him, +but a little behind, stood the Dean, thoroughly enjoying all that he +saw. It was to him a delight that there should be such a dance to be +seen in a lady's drawing-room, and that he should be there to see it. +It was to him an additional delight that his daughter should have been +selected as one of the dancers. These people were all persons of rank +and fashion, and his girl was among them quite as their equal,—his girl, +who some day should be Marchioness of Brotherton. And it gratified +him thoroughly to think that she enjoyed it,—that she did it well,—that +she could dance so that standers-by took pleasure in seeing her<!-- Page 252 --> +dancing. His mind in the matter was altogether antagonistic to that +of his son-in-law.</p> + +<p>Then came the little accident. The Dean, with a momentary impulse, +put up his hand, and then smiled well pleased when he saw how +well the matter had been rectified by the Captain's activity. But it +was not so with Lord George. He pressed forward into the circle with +so determined a movement that nothing could arrest him till he had +his wife by the arm. Everybody, of course, was staring at him. The +dancers were astounded. Mary apparently thought less of it than the +others, for she spoke to him with a smile. "It is all right, George; I +was not in the least hurt."</p> + +<p>"It is disgraceful!" said he, in a loud voice; "come away."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she said; "I think we had finished. It was nobody's +fault."</p> + +<p>"Come away; I will have no more of this."</p> + +<p>"Is there anything wrong?" asked the Dean, with an air of innocent +surprise.</p> + +<p>The offended husband was almost beside himself with passion. +Though he knew that he was surrounded by those who would mock +him he could not restrain himself. Though he was conscious at the +moment that it was his special duty to shield his wife, he could not restrain +his feelings. The outrage was too much for him. "There is +very much the matter," he said, aloud; "let her come away with me." +Then he took her under his arm, and attempted to lead her away to +the door.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Montacute Jones had, of course, seen it all, and was soon with +him. "Pray, do not take her away, Lord George," she said.</p> + +<p>"Madam, I must be allowed to do so," he replied, still pressing on. +"I would prefer to do so."</p> + +<p>"Wait till her carriage is here."</p> + +<p>"We will wait below. Good-night, good-night." And so he went +out of the room with his wife on his arm, followed by the Dean. Since +she had perceived that he was angry with her, and that he had displayed +his anger in public Mary had not spoken a word. She had pressed +him to come and see the dance, not without a purpose in her mind. +She meant to get rid of the thraldom to which he had subjected her +when desiring her not to waltz, and had done so in part when she +obtained his direct sanction at Lady Brabazon's. No doubt she had +felt that as he took liberties as to his own life, as he received love-letters +from an odious woman, he was less entitled to unqualified obedience +than he might have been had his hands been perfectly clean. +There had been a little spirit of rebellion engendered in her by his misconduct; +but she had determined to do nothing in secret. She had +asked his leave to waltz at Lady Brabazon's, and had herself persuaded +him to come to Mrs. Montacute Jones'. Perhaps she would +hardly have dared to do so had she known that Captain De Baron was<!-- Page 253 --> +to be her partner. While dancing she had been unaware of her husband's +presence, and had not thought of him. When he had first come to her +she had in truth imagined that he had been frightened by her narrow +escape from falling. But when he bade her come away with that frown +on his face, and with that awful voice, then she knew it all. She had +no alternative but to take his arm, and to "come away." She had not +courage enough,—I had better perhaps say impudence enough,—to pretend +to speak to him or to anyone near him with ease. All eyes were +upon her, and she felt them; all tongues would be talking of her, and +she already heard the ill-natured words. Her own husband had brought +all this upon her,—her own husband, whose love-letter from another +woman she had so lately seen, and so readily forgiven! It was her +own husband who had so cruelly, so causelessly subjected her to shame +in public, which could never be washed out or forgotten! And who +would sympathise with her? There was no one now but her father. +He would stand by her; he would be good to her; but her husband +by his own doing had wilfully disgraced her.</p> + +<p>Not a word was spoken till they were in the cloak-room, and then +Lord George stalked out to find the brougham, or any cab that might +take them away from the house. Then for the first time the Dean +whispered a word to her. "Say as little as you can to him to-night, +but keep up your courage."</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa!"</p> + +<p>"I understand it all. I will be with you immediately after breakfast."</p> + +<p>"You will not leave me here alone?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not,—nor till you are in your carriage. But listen to +what I am telling you. Say as little as you can till I am with you. +Tell him that you are unwell to-night, and that you must sleep before +you talk to him."</p> + +<p>"Ah! you don't know, papa."</p> + +<p>"I know that I will have the thing put on a right footing." Then +Lord George came back, having found a cab. He gave his arm to his +wife and took her away, without saying a word to the Dean. At the +door of the cab the Dean bade them both good-night. "God bless +you, my child," he said.</p> + +<p>"Good-night; you'll come to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly." Then the door was shut, and the husband and wife +were driven away.</p> + +<p>Of course this little episode contributed much to the amusement of +Mrs. Montacute Jones's guests. The Kappa-kappa had been a very +pretty exhibition, but it had not been nearly so exciting as that of the +jealous husband. Captain De Baron, who remained, was, of course, +a hero. As he could not take his partner into supper, he was honoured +by the hand of Mrs. Montacute Jones <a name="tn_pg_262"></a><!-- TN: period added after "herself"-->herself. "I wouldn't have had +that happen for a thousand pounds," said the old lady.<!-- Page 254 --></p> + +<p>"Nor I for ten," said Jack.</p> + +<p>"Has there been any reason for it?"</p> + +<p>"None in the least. I can't explain of what nature is my intimacy +with Lady George, but it has been more like that of children than +grown people."</p> + +<p>"I know. When grown people play at being children, it is apt to +be dangerous."</p> + +<p>"But we had no idea of the kind. I may be wicked enough. I say +nothing about that. But she is as pure as snow. Mrs. Jones, I could +no more dare to press her hand than I would to fly at the sun. Of +course I like her."</p> + +<p>"And she likes you."</p> + +<p>"I hope so,—in that sort of way. But it is shocking that such a +scene should come from such a cause."</p> + +<p>"Some men, Captain De Baron, don't like having their handsome +young wives liked by handsome young officers. It's very absurd, I +grant."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Jones and Captain De Baron did really grieve at what had been +done, but to others, the tragedy coming after the comedy had not been +painful. "What will be the end of it?" said Miss Patmore Green to +Sir Harry.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid they won't let her dance it any more," said Sir Harry, +who was intent solely on the glories of the Kappa-kappa. "We shall +hardly get any one to do it so well."</p> + +<p>"There'll be something worse than that, I'm afraid," said Miss +Green.</p> + +<p>Count Costi suggested to Lady Florence that there would certainly +be a duel. "We never fight here in England, Count."</p> + +<p>"Ah! dat is bad. A gentleman come and make himself vera disagreeable. +If he most fight perhaps he would hold his tong. I tink +we do things better in Paris and Vienna." Lord Giblet volunteered +his opinion to Madame Gigi that it was very disgraceful. Madame +Gigi simply shrugged her shoulders, and opened her eyes. She was +able to congratulate herself on being able to manage her own husband +better than that.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">REBELLION.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Lady George</span> never forgot that slow journey home in the cab,—for +in truth it was very slow. It seemed to her that she would +never reach her own house. "Mary," he said, as soon as they were +seated, "you have made me a miserable man." The cab rumbled and<!-- Page 255 --> +growled frightfully, and he felt himself unable to attack her with +dignity while they were progressing. "But I will postpone what I +have to say till we have reached home."</p> + +<p>"I have done nothing wrong," said Mary, very stoutly.</p> + +<p>"You had better say nothing more till we are at home." After that +not a word more was said, but the journey was very long.</p> + +<p>At the door of the house Lord George gave his hand to help her out +of the cab, and then marched before her through the passage into the +dining-room. It was evident that he was determined to make his +harangue on that night. But she was the first to speak. "George," +she said, "I have suffered very much, and am very tired. If you +please, I will go to bed."</p> + +<p>"You have disgraced me," he said.</p> + +<p>"No; it is you that have disgraced me and put me to shame before +everybody,—for nothing, for nothing. I have done nothing of which +I am ashamed." She looked up into his face, and he could see that +she was full of passion, and by no means in a mood to submit to his +reproaches. She, too, could frown, and was frowning now. Her +nostrils were dilated, and her eyes were bright with anger. He could +see how it was with her; and though he was determined to be master, +he hardly knew how he was to make good his masterdom.</p> + +<p>"You had better listen to me," he said.</p> + +<p>"Not to-night. I am too ill, too thoroughly wretched. Anything +you have got to say of course I will listen to,—but not now." Then +she walked to the door.</p> + +<p>"Mary!" She paused with her hand on the lock. "I trust that +you do not wish to contest the authority which I have over you?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know; I cannot say. If your authority calls upon me +to own that I have done anything wrong, I shall certainly contest it. +And if I have not, I think—I think you will express your sorrow for +the injury you have done me to-night." Then she left the room +before he had made up his mind how he would continue his address. +He was quite sure that he was right. Had he not desired her not to +waltz? At that moment he quite forgot the casual permission he had +barely given at Lady Brabazon's, and which had been intended to +apply to that night only. Had he not specially warned her against +this Captain De Baron, and told her that his name and hers were +suffering from her intimacy with the man? And then, had she not +deceived him directly by naming another person as her partner in +that odious dance? The very fact that she had so deceived him was +proof to him that she had known that she ought not to dance with +Captain De Baron, and that she had a vicious pleasure in doing so +which she had been determined to gratify even in opposition to his +express orders. As he stalked up and down the room in his wrath, he +forgot as much as he remembered. It had been represented to him +that this odious romp had been no more than a minuet; but he did<!-- Page 256 --> +not bear in mind that his wife had been no party to that misrepresentation. +And he forgot, too, that he himself had been present as a +spectator at her express request. And when his wrath was at the +fullest he almost forgot those letters from Adelaide Houghton! But +he did not forget that all Mrs. Montacute Jones' world had seen him +as in his offended marital majesty he took his wife out from amidst +the crowd, declaring his indignation and his jealousy to all who were +there assembled. He might have been wrong there. As he thought +of it all he confessed to himself as much as that. But the injury done +had been done to himself rather than to her. Of course they must +leave London now, and leave it for ever. She must go with him +whither he might choose to take her. Perhaps Manor Cross might +serve for their lives' seclusion, as the Marquis would not live there. +But Manor Cross was near the deanery, and he must sever his wife +from her father. He was now very hostile to the Dean, who had +looked on and seen his abasement, and had smiled. But, through it +all, there never came to him for a moment any idea of a permanent +quarrel with his wife. It might, he thought, be long before there was +permanent comfort between them. Obedience, absolute obedience, +must come before that could be reached. But of the bond which +bound them together he was far too sensible to dream of separation. +Nor, in his heart, did he think her guilty of anything but foolish, +headstrong indiscretion,—of that and latterly of dissimulation. It was +not that Cæsar had been wronged, but that his wife had enabled idle +tongues to suggest a wrong to Cæsar.</p> + +<p>He did not see her again that night, betaking himself at a very late +hour to his own dressing-room. On the next morning at an early hour +he was awake thinking. He must not allow her to suppose for a +moment that he was afraid of her. He went into her room a few +minutes before their usual breakfast hour, and found her, nearly +dressed, with her maid. "I shall be down directly, George," she +said in her usual voice. As he could not bid the woman go away, he +descended and waited for her in the parlour. When she entered the +room she instantly rang the bell and contrived to keep the man in the +room while she was making the tea. But he would not sit down. +How is a man to scold his wife properly with toast and butter on a +plate before him? "Will you not have your tea?" she asked—oh, +so gently.</p> + +<p>"Put it down," he said. According to her custom, she got up and +brought it round to his place. When they were alone she would kiss +his forehead as she did so; but now the servant was just closing the +door, and there was no kiss.</p> + +<p>"Do come to your breakfast, George," she said.</p> + +<p>"I cannot eat my breakfast while all this is on my mind. I must +speak of it. We must leave London at once."</p> + +<p>"In a week or two."<!-- Page 257 --></p> + +<p>"At once. After last night, there must be no more going to parties." +She lifted her cup to her lips and sat quite silent. She would hear a little +more before she answered him. "You must feel yourself that for some +time to come, perhaps for some years, privacy will be the best for us."</p> + +<p>"I feel nothing of the kind, George."</p> + +<p>"Could you go and face those people after what happened last +night?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I could, and should think it my duty to do so to-night, +if it were possible. No doubt you have made it difficult, but I would +do it."</p> + +<p>"I was forced to make it difficult. There was nothing for me to do +but to take you away."</p> + +<p>"Because you were angry, you were satisfied to disgrace me before +all the people there. What has been done cannot be helped. I must +bear it. I cannot stop people from talking and thinking evil. But I +will never say that I think evil of myself by hiding myself. I don't +know what you mean by privacy. I want no privacy."</p> + +<p>"Why did you dance with that man?"</p> + +<p>"Because it was so arranged."</p> + +<p>"You had told me it was some one else?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to accuse me of a falsehood, George? First one +arrangement had been made, and then another."</p> + +<p>"I had been told before how it was to be."</p> + +<p>"Who told you? I can only answer for myself."</p> + +<p>"And why did you waltz?"</p> + +<p>"Because you had withdrawn your foolish objection. Why should +I not dance like other people? Papa does not think it wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Your father has nothing to do with it."</p> + +<p>"If you ill-treat me, George, papa must have something to do with +it. Do you think he will see me disgraced before a room full of +people, as you did yesterday, and hold his tongue? Of course you are +my husband, but he is still my father; and if I want protection he +will protect me."</p> + +<p>"I will protect you," said Lord George, stamping his foot upon the +floor.</p> + +<p>"Yes; by burying me somewhere. That is what you say you mean +to do. And why? Because you get some silly nonsense into your +head, and then make yourself and me ridiculous in public. If you +think I am what you seem to suspect, you had better let papa have +me back again,—though that is so horrible that I can hardly bring +myself to think of it. If you do not think so, surely you should beg +my pardon for the affront you put on me last night."</p> + +<p>This was a way in which he had certainly not looked at the matter. +Beg her pardon! He, as a husband, beg a wife's pardon under any +circumstances! And beg her pardon for having carried her away from +a house in which she had manifestly disobeyed him. No, indeed.<!-- Page 258 --> +But then he was quite as strongly opposed to that other idea of +sending her back to her father, as a man might send a wife who had +disgraced herself. Anything would be better than that. If she would +only acknowledge that she had been indiscreet, they would go down +together into Brothershire, and all might be comfortable. Though +she was angry with him, obstinate and rebellious, yet his heart was +softened to her because she did not throw the woman's love-letter in +his teeth. He had felt that here would be his great difficulty, but his +difficulty now arose rather from the generosity which kept her silent on +the subject. "What I did," he said, "I did to protect you."</p> + +<p>"Such protection was an insult." Then she left the room before +he had tasted his tea or his toast. She had heard her father's knock, +and knew that she would find him in the drawing-room. She had +made up her mind how she would tell the story to him; but when she +was with him he would have no story told at all. He declared that +he knew everything, and spoke as though there could be no doubt as +to the heinousness, or rather, absurdity, of Lord George's conduct. +"It is very sad,—very sad, indeed," he said; "one hardly knows +what one ought to do."</p> + +<p>"He wants to go down—to Cross Hall."</p> + +<p>"That is out of the question. You must stay out your time here +and then come to me, as you arranged. He must get out of it by +saying that he was frightened by thinking that you had fallen."</p> + +<p>"It was not that, papa."</p> + +<p>"Of course it was not; but how else is he to escape from his own +folly?"</p> + +<p>"You do not think that I have been—wrong—with Captain De +Baron?"</p> + +<p>"I! God bless you, my child. I think that you have been wrong! +He cannot think so either. Has he accused you?"</p> + +<p>Then she told him, as nearly as she could, all that had passed between +them, including the expression of his desire that she should not +waltz, and his subsequent permission given at Lady Brabazon's. +"Pish!" he ejaculated. "I hate these attempted restrictions. It is +like a woman telling her husband not to smoke. What a fool a man +must be not to see that he is preparing misery for himself by laying +embargoes on the recreations of his nearest companion!" Then he +spoke of what he himself would do. "I must see him, and if he will +not hear reason you must go with me to the Deanery without him."</p> + +<p><a name="tn_pg_267"></a><!-- TN: original reads "Dont"-->"Don't separate us, papa."</p> + +<p>"God forbid that there should be any permanent separation. If he +be obstinate, it may be well that you should be away from him for a +week or two. Why can't a man wash his dirty linen at home, if he +has any to wash. His, at any rate, did not come to him with you."</p> + +<p>Then there was a very stormy scene in the dining-room between the +two men. The Dean, whose words were infinitely more ready and<!-- Page 259 --> +available than those of his opponent, said very much the most, and by +the fierce indignation of his disclaimers, almost prevented the husband +from dwelling on the wife's indiscretion. "I did not think it possible +that such a man as you could have behaved so cruelly to such a +girl."</p> + +<p>"I was not cruel; I acted for the best."</p> + +<p>"You degraded yourself, and her too."</p> + +<p>"I degraded no one," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"It is hard to think what may now best be done to cure the wound +which she has been made to suffer. I must insist on this,—that she +must not be taken from town before the day fixed for her departure."</p> + +<p>"I think of going to-morrow," said Lord George, gloomily.</p> + +<p>"Then you must go alone, and I must remain with her."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not;—certainly not."</p> + +<p>"She will not go. She shall not be made to run away. Though +everything have to be told in the public prints, I will not submit to +that. I suppose you do not dare to tell me that you suspect her of +any evil?"</p> + +<p>"She has been indiscreet."</p> + +<p>"Suppose I granted that,—which I don't,—is she to be ground into +dust in this way for indiscretion? Have not you been indiscreet?" +Lord George made no direct answer to this question, fearing that the +Dean had heard the story of the love-letter; but of that matter the +Dean had heard nothing. "In all your dealings with her, can you tax +yourself with no deviation from wisdom?"</p> + +<p>"What a man does is different. No conduct of mine can blemish +her name."</p> + +<p>"But it may destroy her happiness,—and if you go on in this way +it will do so."</p> + +<p>During the whole of that day the matter was discussed. Lord +George obstinately insisted on taking his wife down to Cross Hall, if +not on the next day, then on the day after. But the Dean, and with +the Dean the young wife, positively refused to accede to this arrangement. +The Dean had his things brought from the inn to the house +in Munster Court, and though he did not absolutely declare that he +had come there for his daughter's protection, it was clear that this was +intended. In such an emergency Lord George knew not what to do. +Though the quarrel was already very bitter, he could not quite tell his +father-in-law to leave the house; and then there was always present +to his mind a feeling that the Dean had a right to be there in accordance +with the pecuniary arrangement made. The Dean would have +been welcome to the use of the house and all that was in it, if only +Mary would have consented to be taken at once down to Cross Hall. +But being under her father's wing, she would not consent. She +pleaded that by going at once, or running away as she called it, she +would own that she had done something wrong, and she was earnest<!-- Page 260 --> +in declaring that nothing should wring such a confession from her. +Everybody, she said, knew that she was to stay in London to the end +of June. Everybody knew that she was then to go to the Deanery. +It was not to be borne that people should say that her plans had been +altered because she had danced the Kappa-kappa with Captain De +Baron. She must see her friends before she went, or else her friends +would know that she had been carried into banishment. In answer +to this, Lord George declared that he, as husband, was paramount. +This Mary did not deny, but, paramount as the authority was, she +would not, in this instance, be governed by it.</p> + +<p>It was a miserable day to them all. Many callers came, asking after +Lady George, presuming that her speedy departure from the ball had +been caused by her accident. No one was admitted, and all were told +that she had not been much hurt. There were two or three stormy +scenes between the Dean and his son-in-law, in one of which Lord +George asked the Dean whether he conceived it to be compatible with +his duty as a clergyman of the Church of England to induce a wife to +disobey her husband. In answer to this, the Dean said that in such a +matter the duty of a Church dignitary was the same as that of any +other gentleman, and that he, as a gentleman, and also as a dignitary, +meant to stand by his daughter. She refused to pack up, or to have +her things packed. When he came to look into himself, he found that +he had not power to bid the servants do it in opposition to their +mistress. That the power of a husband was paramount he was well +aware, but he did not exactly see his way to the exercise of it. At +last he decided that he, at any rate, would go down to Cross Hall. If +the Dean chose to create a separation between his daughter and her +husband, he must bear the responsibility.</p> + +<p>On the following day he did go down to Cross Hall, leaving his wife +and her father in Munster Court without any definite plans.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">AS TO BLUEBEARD.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">When</span> Lord George left his own house alone he was very wretched, +and his wife, whom he left behind him, was as wretched as himself. +Of course the matter had not decided itself in this way without very +much absolute quarrelling between them. Lord George had insisted, +had stamped his foot, and had even talked of force. Mary, prompted +by her father, had protested that she would not run away from the +evil tongues of people who would be much more bitter in her absence +than they would dare to be if she remained among them. He, when<!-- Page 261 --> +he found that his threat of forcible abduction was altogether vain, had +to make up his mind whether he also would remain. But both the +Dean and his wife had begged that he would do so, and he would not +even seem to act in obedience to them. So he went, groaning much +in spirit, puzzled to think what story he should tell to his mother and +sisters, terribly anxious as to the future, and in spirit repentant for +the rashness of his conduct at the ball. Before he was twenty miles +out of London he was thinking with infinite regret of his love for his +wife, already realising the misery of living without her, almost stirred +to get out at the next station and return by the first train to Munster +Court. In this hour of his sorrow there came upon him a feeling of +great hatred for Mrs. Houghton. He almost believed that she had +for her own vile purposes excited Captain De Baron to make love to +his wife. And then, in regard to that woman, his wife had behaved +so well! Surely something was due to so much generosity. And +then, when she had been angry with him, she had been more beautiful +than ever. What a change had those few months in London made in +her! She had lost her childish little timidities, and had bloomed +forth a beautiful woman. He had no doubt as to her increased loveliness, +and had been proud to think that all had acknowledged it. +But as to the childish timidity, perhaps he would have preferred that +it should not have been so quickly or so entirely banished. Even at +Brotherton he hankered to return to London; but, had he done so, +the Brotherton world would have known it. He put himself into +a carriage instead, and had himself driven through the park to +Cross Hall.</p> + +<p>All this occurred on the day but one subsequent to the ball, and he +had by the previous post informed Lady Sarah that he was coming. +But in that letter he had said that he would bring his wife with him, +and on his immediate arrival had to answer questions as to her unexpected +absence. "Her father was very unwilling that she should +come," he said.</p> + +<p>"But I thought he was at the hotel," said Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>"He is in Munster Court, now. To tell the truth I am not best +pleased that it should be so; but at the last moment I did not like to +contradict her. I hate London and everything in it. She likes it, +and as there was a kind of bargain made I could not well depart +from it."</p> + +<p>"And you have left her alone with her father in London," said Lady +Susanna, with a tone of pretended dismay.</p> + +<p>"How can she be alone if her father is with her," answered Lord +George, who did not stand in awe of Lady Susanna as he did of Lady +Sarah. Nothing further at the moment was said, but all the sisters +felt that there was something wrong.</p> + +<p>"I don't think it at all right that Mary should be left with the +Dean," said the old lady to her second daughter. But the old lady<!-- Page 262 --> +was specially prejudiced against the Dean as being her eldest son's +great enemy. Before the day was over Lord George wrote a long letter +to his wife,—full of affection indeed, but still more full of covert +reproaches. He did not absolutely scold her; but he told her that +there could be no happiness between a wife and a husband unless the +wife would obey, and he implored her to come to him with as little +delay as possible. If she would only come, all should be right between +them.</p> + +<p>Mary, when her husband was really gone, was much frightened at +her own firmness. That doctrine of obedience to her husband had +been accepted by her in full. When disposed to run counter to the +ladies at Manor Cross, she always had declared to herself that they +bore no authority delegated from "George," and that she would obey +"George," and no one but George. She had told him more than once, +half-playfully, that if he wanted anything done, he must tell her himself. +And this, though he understood it to contain rebellion against +the Germains generally, had a pleasant flavour with him as acknowledging +so completely his own power. She had said to her father, and +unfortunately to Mrs. Houghton when Mrs. Houghton was her friend, +that she was not going to do what all the Germain women told her; +but she had always spoken of her husband's wishes as absolutely +imperative. Now she was in open mutiny against her husband, and, +as she thought of it, it seemed to her to be almost impossible that +peace should be restored between them.</p> + +<p>"I think I will go down very soon," she said to her father, after +she had received her husband's letter.</p> + +<p>"What do you call very soon?"</p> + +<p>"In a day or two."</p> + +<p>"Do not do anything of the kind. Stay here till the appointed +time comes. It is only a fortnight now. I have made arrangements +at Brotherton, so that I can be with you till then. After that come +down to me. Of course your husband will come over to you at the +deanery."</p> + +<p>"But if he shouldn't come?"</p> + +<p>"Then he would be behaving very wickedly. But, of course, he +will come. He is not a man to be obstinate in that fashion."</p> + +<p>"I do not know that, papa."</p> + +<p>"But I do. You had better take my advice in this matter. Of +course I do not want to foster a quarrel between you and your +husband."</p> + +<p>"Pray,—pray don't let there be a quarrel."</p> + +<p>"Of course not. But the other night he lost his head, and treated +you badly. You and I are quite willing to forgive and forget all that. +Any man may do a foolish thing, and men are to be judged by general +results rather than single acts."</p> + +<p>"He is very kind to me—generally."<!-- Page 263 --></p> + +<p>"Just so; and I am not angry with him in the least. But after +what occurred it would be wrong that you should go away at once. +You felt it yourself at the moment."</p> + +<p>"But anything would be better than quarrelling, papa."</p> + +<p>"Almost anything would be better than a lasting quarrel with your +husband; but the best way to avoid that is to show him that you +know how to be firm in such an emergency as this." She was, of +course, compelled by her father's presence and her father's strength +to remain in town, but she did so longing every hour to pack up and +be off to Cross Hall. She had very often doubted whether she could +love her husband as a husband ought to be loved, but now, in her +present trouble, she felt sure of her own heart. She had never been +really on bad terms with him before since their marriage, and the very +fact of their separation increased her tenderness to him in a wonderful +degree. She answered his letter with Language full of love and +promises and submission, loaded with little phrases of feminine worship, +merely adding that papa thought she had better stay in town +till the end of the month. There was not a word of reproach in +it. She did not allude to his harsh conduct at the ball, nor did she +write the name of Mrs. Houghton.</p> + +<p>Her father was very urgent with her to see all her friends, to keep +any engagements previously made, to be seen at the play, and to let +all the world know by her conduct that she was not oppressed by what +had taken place. There was some intention of having the Kappa-kappa +danced again, as far as possible by the same people. Lord Giblet +was to retire in favour of some more expert performer, but the others +were supposed to be all worthy of an encore. But of course there +arose a question as to Lady George. There could be no doubt that +Lord George had disapproved very strongly of the Kappa-kappa. The +matter got to the Dean's ears, and the Dean counselled his daughter +to join the party yet again. "What would he say, papa?" The +Dean was of opinion that in such case Lord George would say and do +much less than he had said and done before. According to his views, +Lord George must be taught that his wife had her privileges as well as +he his. This fresh difficulty dissolved itself because the second performance +was fixed for a day after that on which it had been long +known that Lady George was to leave London; and even the Dean +did not propose that she should remain in town after that date with a +direct view to the Kappa-kappa.</p> + +<p>She was astonished at the zeal with which he insisted that she should +go out into the gay world. He almost ridiculed her when she spoke of +economy in her dress, and seemed to think that it was her duty to +be a woman of fashion. He still spoke to her from time to time of +the Popenjoy question, always asserting his conviction that, whatever +the Marquis might think, even if he were himself deceived through +ignorance of the law, the child would be at last held to be illegitimate.<!-- Page 264 --> +"They tell me, too," he said, "that his life is not worth a year's +purchase."</p> + +<p>"Poor little boy!"</p> + +<p>"Of course, if he had been born as the son of the Marquis of +Brotherton ought to be born, nobody would wish him anything but +good."</p> + +<p>"I don't wish him anything but good," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"But as it is," continued the Dean, apparently not observing his +daughter's remark, "everybody must feel that it would be better for +the family that he should be out of the way. Nobody can think that +such a child can live to do honour to the British peerage."</p> + +<p>"He might be well brought up."</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't be well brought up. He has an Italian mother and +Italian belongings, and everything around him as bad as it can be. +But the question at last is one of right. He was clearly born when +his mother was reputed to be the wife, not of his father, but of another +man. That cock-and-bull story which we have heard may be true. +It is possible. But I could not rest in my bed if I did not persevere +in ascertaining the truth." The Dean did persevere, and was very +constant in his visits to Mr. Battle's office. At this time Miss Tallowax +came up to town, and she also stayed for a day or two in Munster +Court. What passed between the Dean and his aunt on the subject +Mary, of course, did not hear; but she soon found that Miss Tallowax +was as eager as her father, and she learned that Miss Tallowax had +declared that the inquiry should not languish from want of funds. +Miss Tallowax was quite alive to the glory of the Brotherton connection.</p> + +<p>As the month drew to an end Mary, of course, called on all her +London friends. Her father was always eager to know whom she saw, +and whether any allusion was made by any of them to the scene at +the ball. But there was one person, who had been a friend, on whom +she did not call, and this omission was observed by the Dean. "Don't +you ever see Mrs. Houghton now?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No, papa," said Mary, with prompt decision.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I don't like her."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you like her? You used to be friends. Have you +quarrelled?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I have quarrelled with her."</p> + +<p>"What did she do?" Mary was silent. "Is it a secret?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa; it is a secret. I would rather you would not ask. But +she is a nasty vile creature, and I will never speak to her again."</p> + +<p>"That is strong language, Mary."</p> + +<p>"It is. And now that I have said that, pray don't talk about her +any more."</p> + +<p>The Dean was discreet, and did not talk about Mrs. Houghton any<!-- Page 265 --> +more; but he set his mind to work to guess, and guessed something +near the truth. Of course he knew that his son-in-law had professed +at one time to love this lady when she had been Miss De Baron, and +he had been able to see that subsequently to that they had been +intimate friends. "I don't think, my dear," he said, laughing, "that +you can be jealous of her attractions."</p> + +<p>"I am not in the least jealous of her, papa. I don't know anyone +that I think so ugly. She is a nasty made-up thing. But pray don't +talk about her anymore." Then the Dean almost knew that Mary +had discovered something, and was too noble to tell a story against her +husband.</p> + +<p>The day but one before she was to leave town Mrs. Montacute Jones +came to her. She had seen her kind old friend once or twice since the +catastrophe at the ball, but always in the presence of other persons. +Now they were alone together. "Well, my dear," said Mrs. Jones, +"I hope you have enjoyed your short season. We have all been very +fond of you."</p> + +<p>"You have been very kind to me, Mrs. Jones."</p> + +<p>"I do my best to make young people pleasant, my dear. You +ought to have liked it all, for I don't know anybody who has been so +much admired. His Royal Highness said the other night that you +were the handsomest woman in London."</p> + +<p>"His Royal Highness is an old fool," said Mary, laughing.</p> + +<p>"He is generally thought to be a very good judge in that matter. +You are going to keep the house, are you not?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; I think there is a lease."</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that. It is a nice little house, and I should be sorry +to think that you are not coming back."</p> + +<p>"We are always to live here half the year, I believe," said Mary. +"That was agreed when we married, and that's why I go away +now."</p> + +<p>"Lord George, I suppose, likes the country best?"</p> + +<p>"I think he does. I don't, Mrs. Jones."</p> + +<p>"They are both very well in their way, my dear. I am a wicked +old woman, who like to have everything gay. I never go out of town +till everything is over, and I never come up till everything begins. +We have a nice place down in Scotland, and you must come and see +me there some autumn. And then we go to Rome. It's a pleasant +way of living, though we have to move about so much."</p> + +<p>"It must cost a great deal of money?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes. One can't drive four-in-hand so cheap as a pair. Mr. +Jones has a large income." This was the first direct intimation Mary +had ever received that there was a Mr. Jones. "But we weren't +always rich. When I was your age I hadn't nearly so nice a house as +you. Indeed, I hadn't a house at all, for I wasn't married, and was +thinking whether I would take or reject a young barrister of the name<!-- Page 266 --> +of Smith, who had nothing a year to support me on. You see I never +got among the aristocratic names, as you have done."</p> + +<p>"I don't care a bit about that."</p> + +<p>"But I do. I like Germains, and Talbots, and Howards, and so +does everybody else, only so many people tell lies about it. I like +having lords in my drawing-room. They look handsomer and talk +better than other men. That's my experience. And you are pretty +nearly sure with them that you won't find you have got somebody +quite wrong."</p> + +<p>"I know a lord," said Mary, "who isn't very right. That is, I +don't know him, for I never saw him."</p> + +<p>"You mean your wicked brother-in-law. I should like to know +him of all things. He'd be quite an attraction. I suppose he knows +how to behave like a gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that. He was very rough to papa."</p> + +<p>"Ah;—yes. I think we can understand that, my dear. Your +father hasn't made himself exactly pleasant to the Marquis. Not +that I say he's wrong. I think it was a pity, because everybody says +that the little Lord Popenjoy will die. You were talking of me and +my glories, but long before you are my age you will be much more +glorious. You will make a charming Marchioness."</p> + +<p>"I never think about it, Mrs. Jones; and I wish papa didn't. Why +shouldn't the little boy live? I could be quite happy enough as I am +if people would only be good to me and let me alone."</p> + +<p>"Have I distressed you?" asked the old woman.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear no;—not you."</p> + +<p>"You mean what happened at my house the other night?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean anything particular, Mrs. Jones. But I do think +that people sometimes are very ill-natured."</p> + +<p>"I think, you know, that was Lord George's doing. He shouldn't +have taken you off so suddenly. It wasn't your fault that the +stupid man tripped. I suppose he doesn't like Captain De Baron?"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk about it, Mrs. Jones."</p> + +<p>"Only that I know the world so well that what I say might, +perhaps, be of use. Of course I know that he has gone out of +town."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he has gone."</p> + +<p>"I was so glad that you didn't go with him. People will talk, you +know, and it did look as though he were a sort of Bluebeard. Bluebeards, +my dear, must be put down. There may be most well-intentioned +Bluebeards, who have no chambers of horrors, no secrets,"—Mary +thought of the letter from Mrs. Houghton, of which nobody +knew but herself,—"who never cut off anybody's heads, but still interfere +dreadfully with the comfort of a household. Lord George is very +nearly all that a man ought to be."</p> + +<p>"He is the best man in the world," said Mary.<!-- Page 267 --></p> + +<p>"I am sure you think so. But he shouldn't be jealous, and above +all he shouldn't show that he's jealous. You were bound, I think, to +stay behind and show the world that you had nothing to fear. I suppose +the Dean counselled it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—he did."</p> + +<p>"Fathers of married daughters shouldn't often interfere, but there +I think he was right. It is much better for Lord George himself that +it should be so. There is nothing so damaging to a young woman as +to have it supposed she has had to be withdrawn from the influence of +a young man."</p> + +<p>"It would be wicked of anybody to think so," said Mary, sobbing.</p> + +<p>"But they must have thought so if you hadn't remained. You +may be sure, my dear, that your father was quite right. I am sorry +that you cannot make one in the dance again, because we shall have +changed Lord Giblet for Lord Augustus Grandison, and I am sure it +will be done very well. But of course I couldn't ask you to stay for +it. As your departure was fixed beforehand you ought not to stay for +it. But that is very different from being taken away in a jiffey, like +some young man who is spending more than he ought to spend, and is +hurried off suddenly nobody knows where."</p> + +<p>Mary, when Mrs. Jones had left the house, found that upon the +whole she was thankful to her friend for what had been said. It +pained her to hear her husband described as a jealous Bluebeard; but +the fact of his jealousy had been so apparent, that in any conversation +on the matter intended to be useful so much had to be acknowledged. +She, however, had taken the strong course of trusting to her father +rather than to her husband, and she was glad to find that her conduct +and her father's conduct were approved by so competent a judge as +Mrs. Montacute Jones. And throughout the whole interview there had +been an air of kindness which Mary had well understood. The old +lady had intended to be useful, and her intentions were accepted.</p> + +<p>On the next morning, soon after breakfast, the Dean received a note +which puzzled him much, and for an hour or two left him in doubt as +to what he would do respecting it,—whether he would comply with, +or refuse to comply with, the request made in it. At first he said +nothing of the letter to his daughter. He had, as she was aware, +intended to go to Lincoln's Inn early in the day, but he sat thinking +over something, instead of leaving the house, till at last he went to +Mary and put the letter into her hands. "That," said he, "is one of +the most unexpected communications I ever had in my life, and one +which it is most difficult to answer. Just read it." The letter, which +was very short, was as follows:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"The Marquis of Brotherton presents his compliments to the Dean +of Brotherton, and begs to say that he thinks that some good might +now be done by a personal interview. Perhaps the Dean will not<!-- Page 268 --> +object to call on the Marquis here at some hour after two o'clock to-morrow.</p> + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature2">"Scumberg's Hotel,<br></span> +<span class="presignature3">"Albemarle Street.<br></span> +</div> + +<p style="text-indent: 2em;">"<i>29th June, 187—.</i>"</p> +</div> + +<p>"But we go to-morrow," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Ah;—he means to-day. The note was written last night. I have +been thinking about it, and I think I shall go."</p> + +<p>"Have you written to him?"</p> + +<p>"There is no need. A man who sends to me a summons to come +to him so immediately as that has no right to expect an answer. He +does not mean anything honest."</p> + +<p>"Then why do you go?"</p> + +<p>"I don't choose to appear to be afraid to meet him. Everything +that I do is done above board. I rather imagine that he doesn't +expect me to come; but I will not let him have to say that he had +asked me and that I had refused. I shall go."</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa, what will he say to you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think he can eat me, my dear; nor will he dare even to +murder me. I daresay he would if he could."</p> + +<p>And so it was decided; and at the hour appointed the Dean sallied +forth to keep the appointment.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">SCUMBERG'S.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> Dean as he walked across the park towards Albemarle Street +had many misgivings. He did not at all believe that the Marquis entertained +friendly relations in regard to him, or even such neutral relations +as would admit of the ordinary courtesies of civilized life. He made +up his mind that he would be insulted,—unless indeed he should be so +cowed as to give way to the Marquis. But, that he himself thought +to be impossible. The more he reflected about it, the more assured he +became that the Marquis had not expected him to obey the summons. +It was possible that something might be gained on the other side by +his refusal to see the elder brother of his son-in-law. He might, by +refusing, leave it open to his enemies to say that he had rejected an +overture to peace, and he now regarded as his enemies almost the +entire Germain family. His own son-in-law would in future, he thought, +be as much opposed to him as the head of the family. The old Marchioness, +he knew, sincerely believed in Popenjoy. And the daughters,<!-- Page 269 --> +though they had at first been very strong in their aversion to the +foreign mother and the foreign boy, were now averse to him also, on +other grounds. Of course Lord George would complain of his wife at +Cross Hall. Of course the story of the Kappa-kappa would be told in +a manner that would horrify those three ladies. The husband would +of course be indignant at his wife's disobedience in not having left +London when ordered by him to do so. He had promised not to foster +a quarrel between Mary and Lord George, but he thought it by no +means improbable that circumstances would for a time render it expedient +that his daughter should live at the deanery, while Lord George +remained at Cross Hall. As to nothing was he more fully resolved +than this,—that he would not allow the slightest blame to be attributed +to his daughter, without repudiating and resenting the imputation. +Any word against her conduct, should such word reach his ears even +through herself, he would resent, and it would go hard with him, +but he would exceed such accusations by recriminations. He would +let them know, that if they intended to fight, he also could fight. He +had never uttered a word as to his own liberality in regard to money, +but he had thought of it much. Theirs was the rank, and the rank +was a great thing in his eyes; but his was at present the wealth; +and wealth, he thought was as powerful as rank. He was determined +that his daughter should be a Marchioness, and in pursuit of that +object he was willing to spend his money;—but he intended to let +those among whom he spent it know that he was not to be set on one +side, as a mere parson out of the country, who happened to have a +good income of his own.</p> + +<p>It was in this spirit,—a spirit of absolute pugnacity,—that he asked +for the Marquis at Scumberg's hotel. Yes;—the Marquis was at +home, and the servant would see if his master could be seen. "I +fancy that I have an appointment with him," said the Dean, as he gave +his card. "I am rather hurried, and if he can't see me perhaps +you'll let me know at once." The man soon returned, and with much +condescension told the Dean that his lordship would see him. "That +is kind, as his lordship told me to come," said the Dean to himself, but +still loud enough for the servant to hear him. "His Lordship will be +with you in a few minutes," said the man, as he shut the door of the +sitting room.</p> + +<p>"I shall be gone if he's not here in a very few minutes," said the +Dean, unable to restrain himself.</p> + +<p>And he very nearly did go before the Marquis came to him. He +had already walked to the rug with the object of ringing the bell, and +had then decided on giving the lord two minutes more, resolving also +that he would speak his mind to the lord about this delay, should the +lord make his appearance before the two minutes were over. The +time had just expired when his lordship did make his appearance. He +came shuffling into the room after a servant, who walked before him<!-- Page 270 --> +with the pretence of carrying books and a box of papers. It had all +been arranged, the Marquis knowing that he would secure the first +word by having his own servant in the room. "I am very much +obliged to you for coming, Mr. Dean," he said. "Pray sit down. I +should have been here to receive you if you had sent me a line."</p> + +<p>"I only got your note this morning," said the Dean angrily.</p> + +<p>"I thought that perhaps you might have sent a message. It doesn't +signify in the least. I never go out till after this, but had you named +a time I should have been here to receive you. That will do, John,—shut +the door. Very cold,—don't you think it."</p> + +<p>"I have walked, my lord, and am warm."</p> + +<p>"I never walk,—never could walk. I don't know why it is, but my +legs won't walk."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you never tried."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have. They wanted to make me walk in Switzerland +twenty years ago, but I broke down after the first mile. George used +to walk like the very d——. You see more of him now than I do. +Does he go on walking?"</p> + +<p>"He is an active man."</p> + +<p>"Just that. He ought to have been a country letter-carrier. He +would have been as punctual as the sun, and has quite all the necessary +intellect."</p> + +<p>"You sent for me, Lord Brotherton——"</p> + +<p>"Yes; yes. I had something that I thought I might as well say to +you, though, upon my word, I almost forget what it was."</p> + +<p>"Then I may as well take my leave."</p> + +<p>"Don't do that. You see, Mr. Dean, belonging to the church +militant as you do, you are so heroically pugnacious! You must like +fighting very much."</p> + +<p>"When I have anything which I conceive it to be my duty to fight +for, I think I do."</p> + +<p>"Things are generally best got without fighting. You want to +make your grandson Marquis of Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"I want to ensure to my grandson anything that may be honestly +and truly his own."</p> + +<p>"You must first catch a grandson."</p> + +<p>It was on his lips to say that certainly no heir should be caught on +his side of the family after the fashion that had been practised by his +lordship in catching the present pseudo-Popenjoy; but he was restrained +by a feeling of delicacy in regard to his own daughter. "My +lord," he said, "I am not here to discuss any such contingency."</p> + +<p>"But you don't scruple to discuss my contingency, and that in the +most public manner. It has suited me, or at any rate it has been my +chance, to marry a foreigner. Because you don't understand Italian +fashions you don't scruple to say that she is not my wife."</p> + +<p>"I have never said so."<!-- Page 271 --></p> + +<p>"And to declare that my son is not my son."</p> + +<p>"I have never said that."</p> + +<p>"And to set a dozen attorneys to work to prove that my heir is a +bastard."</p> + +<p>"We heard of your marriage, my lord, as having been fixed for a +certain date,—a date long subsequent to that of the birth of your son. +What were we to think?"</p> + +<p>"As if that hadn't been explained to you, and to all the world, a +dozen times over. Did you never hear of a second marriage being +solemnized in England to satisfy certain scruples? You have sent out +and made your inquiries, and what have they come to? I know all +about it."</p> + +<p>"As far as I am concerned you are quite welcome to know everything."</p> + +<p>"I dare say;—even though I should be stung to death by the +knowledge. Of course I understand. You think that I have no +feeling at all."</p> + +<p>"Not much as to duty to your family, certainly," said the Dean, +stoutly.</p> + +<p>"Exactly. Because I stand a little in the way of your new ambition, +I am the Devil himself. And yet you and those who have +abetted you think it odd that I haven't received you with open arms. +My boy is as much to me as ever was your daughter to you."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so, my lord. The question is not whether he is beloved, +but whether he is Lord Popenjoy."</p> + +<p>"He is Lord Popenjoy. He is a poor weakling, and I doubt +whether he may enjoy the triumph long, but he is Lord Popenjoy. You +must know it yourself, Dean."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing of the kind," said the Dean, furiously.</p> + +<p>"Then you must be a very self-willed man. When this began +George was joined with you in the unnatural inquiry. He at any rate +has been convinced."</p> + +<p>"It may be he has submitted himself to his brother's influence."</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. George is not very clever, but he has at any rate +had wit enough to submit to the influence of his own legal adviser,—or +rather to the influence of your legal adviser. Your own man, Mr. +Battle, is convinced. You are going on with this in opposition even +to him. What the devil is it you want? I am not dead, and may +outlive at any rate you. Your girl hasn't got a child, and doesn't seem +likely to have one. You happen to have married her into a noble +family, and now, upon my word, it seems to me that you are a little +off your head with downright pride."</p> + +<p>"Was it for this you sent for me?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—yes it was. I thought it might be as well to argue it out. +It isn't likely that there should be much love between us, but we +needn't cut each other's throats. It is costing us both a d——d lot<!-- Page 272 --> +of money; but I should think that my purse must be longer than +yours."</p> + +<p>"We will try it, my lord."</p> + +<p>"You intend to go on with this persecution then?"</p> + +<p>"The Countess Luigi was presumably a married woman when she +bore that name, and I look upon it as a sacred duty to ascertain +whether she was so or not."</p> + +<p>"Sacred!" said the Marquis, with a sneer.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—sacred. There can be no more sacred duty than that which +a father owes to his child."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" Then the Marquis paused and looked at the Dean before +he went on speaking. He looked so long that the Dean was preparing +to take his hat in his hand ready for a start. He showed that he was +going to move, and then the Marquis went on speaking. "Sacred! +Ah!—and such a child!"</p> + +<p>"She is one of whom I am proud as a father, and you should be +proud as a sister-in-law."</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course. So I am. The Germains were never so honoured +before. As for her birth I care nothing about that. Had she behaved +herself, I should have thought nothing of the stable."</p> + +<p>"What do you dare to say?" said the Dean, jumping from his seat.</p> + +<p>The Marquis sat leaning back in his arm-chair, perfectly motionless. +There was a smile,—almost a pleasant smile on his face. But there +was a very devil in his eye, and the Dean, who stood some six feet +removed from him, saw the devil plainly. "I live a solitary life here, +Mr. Dean," said the Marquis, "but even I have heard of her."</p> + +<p>"What have you heard?"</p> + +<p>"All London have heard of her,—this future Marchioness, whose +ambition is to drive my son from his title and estates. A sacred duty, +Mr. Dean, to put a coronet on the head of that young ——!" The +word which we have not dared to print was distinctly spoken,—more +distinctly, more loudly, more incisively, than any word which had yet +fallen from the man's lips. It was evident that the lord had prepared +the word, and had sent for the father that the father might hear the +word applied to his own daughter,—unless indeed he should first +acknowledge himself to have lost his case. So far the interview had +been carried out very much in accordance with the preparations as +arranged by the Marquis; but, as to what followed, the Marquis had +hardly made his calculations correctly.</p> + +<p>A clergyman's coat used to save him from fighting in fighting days; +and even in these days, in which broils and personal encounters are +held to be generally disreputable, it saves the wearer from certain +remote dangers to which other men are liable. And the reverse of this +is also true. It would probably be hard to extract a first blow from +the whole bench of bishops. And deans as a rule are more sedentary, +more quiescent, more given to sufferance even than bishops. The<!-- Page 273 --> +normal Dean is a goodly, sleek, bookish man, who would hardly strike +a blow under any provocation. The Marquis, perhaps, had been aware +of this. He had, perhaps, fancied that he was as good a man as the +Dean who was at least ten years his senior. He had not at any rate +anticipated such speedy violence as followed the utterance of the +abominable word.</p> + +<p>The Dean, as I have said, had been standing about six feet from +the easy chair in which the Marquis was lolling when the word was +spoken. He had already taken his hat in his hand and had thought +of some means of showing his indignation as he left the room. Now +his first impulse was to rid himself of his hat, which he did by pitching +it along the floor. And then in an instant he was at the lord's throat. +The lord had expected it so little that up to the last he made no preparation +for defence. The Dean had got him by his cravat and shirt-collar +before he had begun to expect such usage as this. Then he +simply gurgled out some ejaculated oath, uttered half in surprise and +half in prayer. Prayer certainly was now of no use. Had five hundred +feet of rock been there the Marquis would have gone down it, +though the Dean had gone with him. Fire flashed from the clergyman's +eyes, and his teeth were set fast and his very nostrils were +almost ablaze. His daughter! The holy spot of his life! The one +being in whom he believed with all his heart and with all his strength!</p> + +<p>The Dean was fifty years of age, but no one had ever taken him for +an old man. They who at home at Brotherton would watch his +motions, how he walked and how he rode on horseback, how he would +vault his gates when in the fields, and scamper across the country like +a schoolboy, were wont to say that he was unclerical. Perhaps Canons +Pountner and Holdenough, with Mr. Groschut, the bishop's chaplain, +envied him something of his juvenile elasticity. But I think that +none of them had given him credit for such strength as he now displayed. +The Marquis, in spite of what feeble efforts he made, was +dragged up out of his chair and made to stand, or rather to totter, on +his legs. He made a clutch at the bell-rope, which to aid his luxurious +ease had been brought close to his hand as he sat, but failed, as the +Dean shook him hither and thither. Then he was dragged on to the +middle of the rug, feeling by this time that he was going to be +throttled. He attempted to throw himself down, and would have +done so but that the Dean with his left hand prevented him from +falling. He made one vigorous struggle to free himself, striving as he +did so to call for assistance. But the Dean having got his victim's back +to the fireplace, and having the poor wretch now fully at his command, +threw the man with all his strength into the empty grate. The Marquis +fell like a heap within the fender, with his back against the top bar +and his head driven further back against the bricks and iron. There +for a second or two he lay like a dead mass.</p> + +<p>Less than a minute had done it all, and for so long a time the Dean's<!-- Page 274 --> +ungoverned fury had held its fire. What were consequences to him +with that word as applied to his child ringing in his ears? How +should he moderate his wrath under such outrage as that? Was it +not as though beast had met beast in the forest between whom nothing +but internecine fight to the end was possible? But when that minute +was over, and he saw what he had done,—when the man, tumbled, +dishevelled, all alump and already bloody, was lying before him,—then +he remembered who he was himself and what it was that he had +done. He was Dean Lovelace, who had already made for himself +more than enough of clerical enmity; and this other man was the +Marquis of Brotherton, whom he had perhaps killed in his wrath, +with no witness by to say a word as to the provocation he had received.</p> + +<p>The Marquis groaned and impotently moved an arm as though to raise +himself. At any rate, he was not dead as yet. With a desire to do +what was right now, the Dean rang the bell violently, and then +stooped down to extricate his foe. He had succeeded in raising the +man and in seating him on the floor with his head against the arm-chair +before the servant came. Had he wished to conceal anything, +he could without much increased effort have dragged the Marquis up +into his chair; but he was anxious now simply that all the truth +should be known. It seemed to him still that no one knowing the +real truth would think that he had done wrong. His child! His +daughter! His sweetly innocent daughter! The man soon rushed +into the room, for the ringing of the bell had been very violent. +"Send for a doctor," said the Dean, "and send the landlord up."</p> + +<p>"Has my lord had a fit?" said the man, advancing into the room. +He was the servant, not of the hotel, but of the Marquis himself.</p> + +<p>"Do as I bid you;—get a doctor and send up the landlord immediately. +It is not a fit, but his lordship has been much hurt. I +knocked him down." The Dean made the last statement slowly and +firmly, under a feeling at the moment that it became him to leave +nothing concealed, even with a servant.</p> + +<p>"He has murdered me," groaned the Marquis. The injured one +could speak at least, and there was comfort in that. The servant +rushed back to the regions below, and the tidings were soon spread +through the house. Resident landlord there was none. There never +are resident landlords in London hotels. Scumberg was a young +family of joint heirs and heiresses, named Tomkins, who lived at +Hastings, and the house was managed by Mrs. Walker. Mrs. Walker +was soon in the room, with a German deputy manager kept to maintain +the foreign Scumberg connection, and with them sundry waiters and +the head chambermaid. Mrs. Walker made a direct attack upon the +Dean, which was considerably weakened by accusations from the lips +of the Marquis himself. Had he remained speechless for a while the +horrors of the Dean's conduct would have been greatly aggravated. +"My good woman," said the Dean, "wait till some official is here.<!-- Page 275 --> +You cannot understand. And get a little warm water and wash his +lordship's head."</p> + +<p>"He has broken my back," said his lordship. "Oh, oh, oh."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear you speak, Lord Brotherton," said the Dean. +"I think you will repent having used such a word as that to my +daughter." It would be necessary now that everybody should understand +everything; but how terrible would it be for the father even to +say that such a name had been applied to his child!</p> + +<p>First there came two policemen, then a surgeon, and then a sergeant. +"I will do anything that you suggest, Mr. Constable," said the Dean, +"though I hope it may not be necessary that I should remain in +custody. I am the Dean of Brotherton." The sergeant made a sign +of putting his finger up to his cap. "This, man, as you know, is the +Marquis of Brotherton." The sergeant bowed to the groaning nobleman. +"My daughter is married to his brother. There have been +family quarrels, and he just now applied a name to his own sister-in-law, +to my child,—which I will not utter because there are women +here. Fouler slander never came from a man's mouth. I took him +from his chair and threw him beneath the grate. Now you know it +all. Were it to do again, I would do it again."</p> + +<p>"She is a ——," said the imprudent prostrate Marquis. The sergeant, +the doctor who was now present, and Mrs. Walker suddenly +became the Dean's friends. The Marquis was declared to be much +shaken, to have a cut head, and to be very badly bruised about the +muscles of the back. But a man who could so speak of his sister-in-law +deserved to have his head cut and his muscles bruised. Nevertheless +the matter was too serious to be passed over without notice. The +doctor could not say that the unfortunate nobleman had received no +permanent injury;—and the sergeant had not an opportunity of dealing +with deans and marquises every day of his life. The doctor +remained with his august patient and had him put to bed, while the +Dean and the sergeant together went off in a cab to the police-office +which lies in the little crowded streets between the crooked part of +Regent Street and Piccadilly. Here depositions were taken and forms +filled, and the Dean was allowed to depart with an understanding that +he was to be forthcoming immediately when wanted. He suggested +that it had been his intention to go down to Brotherton on the following +day, but the Superintendent of Police recommended him to abandon +that idea. The superintendent thought that the Dean had better +make arrangements to stay in London till the end of the week.<!-- Page 276 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">"NOT GO!"</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> Dean had a great deal to think of as he walked home a little too +late for his daughter's usual dinner hour. What should he tell her;—and +what should he do as to communicating or not communicating +tidings of the day's work to Lord George? Of course everybody must +know what had been done sooner or later. He would have had no +objection to that,—providing the truth could be told accurately,—except +as to the mention of his daughter's name in the same sentence +with that abominable word. But the word would surely be known, +and the facts would not be told with accuracy unless he told them himself. +His only, but his fully sufficient defence was in the word. But +who would know the tone? Who would understand the look of the +man's eye and the smile on his mouth? Who could be made to conceive, +as the Dean himself had conceived, the aggravated injury of +the premeditated slander? He would certainly write and tell Lord +George everything. But to his daughter he thought that he would +tell as little as possible. Might God in his mercy save her ears, her +sacred feelings, her pure heart from the wound of that word! He felt +that she was dearer to him than ever she had been,—that he would +give up deanery and everything if he could save her by doing so. But +he felt that if she were to be sacrificed in the contest, he would +give up deanery and everything in avenging her.</p> + +<p>But something must be told to her. He at any rate must remain in +town, and it would be very desirable that she should stay with him. +If she went alone she would at once be taken to Cross Hall; and he +could understand that the recent occurrence would not add to the +serenity of her life there. The name that had been applied to +her, together with the late folly of which her husband had been guilty, +would give those Manor Cross dragons,—as the Dean was apt in his +own thoughts to call the Ladies Germain—a tremendous hold over her. +And should she be once at Cross Hall he would hardly be able to get +her back to the deanery.</p> + +<p>He hurried up to dress as soon as he reached the house, with a word +of apology as to being late, and then found her in the drawing room.</p> + +<p>"Papa," she said, "I do like Mrs. Montacute Jones."</p> + +<p>"So do I, my dear, because she is good-humoured."</p> + +<p>"But she is so good-natured also! She has been here again to-day +and wants me and George to go down to Scotland in August. I should +so like it."</p> + +<p>"What will George say?"<!-- Page 277 --></p> + +<p>"Of course he won't go; and of course I shan't. But that doesn't +make it the less good-natured. She wishes all her set to think that +what happened the other night doesn't mean anything."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid he won't consent."</p> + +<p>"I know he won't. He wouldn't know what to do with himself. +He hates a house full of people. And now tell me what the Marquis +said." But dinner was announced, and the Dean was not forced to +answer this question immediately.</p> + +<p>"Now, papa," she said again, as soon as the coffee was brought +and the servant was gone, "do tell me what my most noble brother-in-law +wanted to say to you?"</p> + +<p>That he certainly would not tell. "Your brother-in-law, my dear, +behaved about as badly as a man could behave."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear! I am so sorry!"</p> + +<p>"We have to be sorry,—both of us. And your husband will be +sorry." He was so serious that she hardly knew how to speak to him. +"I cannot tell you everything; but he insulted me, and I was forced +to—strike him."</p> + +<p>"Strike him! Oh, papa!"</p> + +<p>"Bear with me, Mary. In all things I think well of you, and do +you try to think well of me."</p> + +<p>"Dear papa! I will. I do. I always did."</p> + +<p>"Anything he might have said of myself I could have borne. He +could have applied no epithet to me which, I think, could even have +ruffled me. But he spoke evil of you." While he was sitting there +he made up his mind that he would tell her as much as that, though +he had before almost resolved that he would not speak to her of herself. +But she must hear something of the truth, and better that she +should hear it from his than from other lips. She turned very pale, +but did not immediately make any reply. "Then I was full of wrath," +he continued. "I did not even attempt to control myself; but I +took him by the throat and flung him violently to the ground. He +fell upon the grate, and it may be that he has been hurt. Had the +fall killed him he would have deserved it. He had courage to wound +a father in his tenderest part, only because that father was a clergyman. +His belief in a black coat will, I think, be a little weakened by +what occurred to-day."</p> + +<p>"What will be done?" she asked, whispering.</p> + +<p>"Heaven only knows. But I can't go out of town to-morrow. I +shall write to George to-night and tell him everything that has +occurred, and shall beg that you may be allowed to stay with me for +the few days that will be necessary."</p> + +<p>"Of course I will not leave you."</p> + +<p>"It is not that. But I do not want you to go to Cross Hall quite +at present. If you went without me they would not let you come to +the deanery. Of course there will be a great commotion at Cross<!-- Page 278 --> +Hall. Of course they will condemn me. Many will condemn me, as +it will be impossible to make the world believe the exact truth."</p> + +<p>"I will never condemn you," she said. Then she came over and +threw herself on her knees at his feet, and embraced him. "But, +papa, what did the man say of me?"</p> + +<p>"Not what he believed;—but what he thought would give me the +greatest anguish. Never mind. Do not ask any more questions. +You also had better write to your husband, and you can tell him fully +all that I have told you. If you will write to-night I will do so also, +and I will take care that they shall have our letters to-morrow afternoon. +We must send a message to say that we shall not be at the +deanery to-morrow." The two letters to Lord George were both +written that night, and were both very long. They told the same +story, though in a different tone. The Dean was by no means apologetic, +but was very full and very true. When he came to the odious +word he could not write it, but he made it very clear without writing. +Would not the husband feel as he the father had felt in regard to his +young wife, the sweet pure girl of whose love and possession he ought +to be so proud? How would any brother be forgiven who had assailed +such a treasure as this;—much less such a brother as this Marquis? +Perhaps Lord George might think it right to come up. The Dean +would of course ask at the hotel on the following day, and would go +to the police office. He believed, he said, that no permanent injury +had been done. Then came, perhaps, the pith of his letter. He +trusted that Lord George would agree with him in thinking that Mary +had better remain with him in town during the two or three days of +his necessarily prolonged sojourn. This was put in the form of a request; +but was put in a manner intended to show that the request if +not granted would be enforced. The Dean was fully determined that +Mary should not at once go down to Cross Hall.</p> + +<p>Her letter was supplicatory, spasmodic, full of sorrow, and full of +love. She was quite sure that her dear papa would have done nothing +that he ought not to have done; but yet she was very sorry for the +Marquis, because of his mother and sisters, and because of her dear, +dear George. Could he not run up to them and hear all about it from +papa? If the Marquis had said ill-natured things of her it was very +cruel, because nobody loved her husband better than she loved her +dear, dear George,—and so on. The letters were then sent under cover +to the housekeeper at the deanery, with orders to send them on by +private messenger to Cross Hall.</p> + +<p>On the following day the Dean went to Scumberg's, but could not +learn much there. The Marquis had been very bad, and had had one +and another doctor with him almost continually; but Mrs. Walker +could not take upon herself to say that "it was dangerous." She +thought it was "in'ard." Mrs. Walkers always do think that it is +"in'ard" when there is nothing palpable outward. At any rate his<!-- Page 279 --> +lordship had not been out of bed and had taken nothing but tapioca +and brandy. There was very little more than this to be learned at the +police court. The case might be serious, but the superintendent hoped +otherwise. The superintendent did not think that the Dean should go +down quite to-morrow. The morrow was Friday; but he suggested +Saturday as possible, Monday as almost certain. It may be as well to +say here that the Dean did not call at the police court again, and heard +nothing further from the officers of the law respecting the occurrence at +Scumberg's. On the Friday he called again at Scumberg's, and the +Marquis was still in bed. His "in'ards" had not ceased to be matter of +anxiety to Mrs. Walker; but the surgeon, whom the Dean now saw, +declared that the muscles of the nobleman's back were more deserving +of sympathy. The surgeon, with a gravity that almost indicated +offence, expressed his opinion that the Marquis's back had received an +injury which—which might be—very injurious.</p> + +<p>Lord George when he received the letters was thrown into a state of +mind that almost distracted him. During the last week or two the +animosity felt at Cross Hall against the Marquis had been greatly +weakened. A feeling had come upon the family that after all Popenjoy +was Popenjoy; and that, although the natal circumstances of such a +Popenjoy were doubtless unfortunate for the family generally, still, as +an injury had been done to the Marquis by the suspicion, those circumstances +ought now to be in a measure forgiven. The Marquis was the +head of the family, and a family will forgive much to its head when +that head is a Marquis. As we know the Dowager had been in his +favour from the first, Lord George had lately given way and had undergone +a certain amount of reconciliation with his brother. Lady +Amelia had seceded to her mother, as had also Mrs. Toff, the old housekeeper. +Lady Susanna was wavering, having had her mind biased by +the objectionable conduct of the Dean and his daughter. Lady Sarah +was more staunch. Lady Sarah had never yet given way; she never +did give way; and, in her very heart, she was the best friend that +Mary had among the ladies of the family. But when her brother gave +up the contest she felt that further immediate action was impossible. +Things were in this state at Cross Hall when Lord George received the +two letters. He did not wish to think well of the Dean just at present, +and was horrified at the idea of a clergyman knocking a Marquis into +the fire-place. But the word indicated was very plain, and that word +had been applied to his own wife. Or, perhaps, no such word had really +been used. Perhaps the Dean had craftily saved himself from an absolute +lie, and in his attempt to defend the violence of his conduct had +brought an accusation against the Marquis, which was in its essence, +untrue. Lord George was quite alive to the duty of defending his +wife; but in doing so he was no longer anxious to maintain affectionate +terms with his wife's father. She had been very foolish. All the world +had admitted as much. He had seen it with his own eyes at that<!-- Page 280 --> +wretched ball. She had suffered her name to be joined with that of a +stranger in a manner derogatory to her husband's honour. It was +hardly surprising that his brother should have spoken of her conduct +in disparaging terms;—but he did not believe that his brother had used +that special term. Personal violence;—blows and struggling, and that +on the part of a Dean of the Church of England, and violence such as +this seemed to have been,—violence that might have killed the man +attacked, seemed to him to be in any case unpardonable. He certainly +could not live on terms of friendship with the Dean immediately after +such a deed. His wife must be taken away and secluded, and purified +by a long course of Germain asceticism.</p> + +<p>But what must he do now at once? He felt that it was his duty to +hurry up to London, but he could not bring himself to live in the same +house with the Dean. His wife must be taken away from her father. +However bad may have been the language used by the Marquis, however +indefensible, he could not allow himself even to seem to keep up +affectionate relations with the man who had half slaughtered his +brother. He too thought of what the world would say, he too felt that +such an affair, after having become known to the police, would be soon +known to every one else. But what must he do at once? He had not +as yet made up his mind as to this when he took his place at the Brotherton +Railway Station on the morning after he had received the +letters.</p> + +<p>But on reaching the station in London he had so far made up his +mind as to have his portmanteau taken to the hotel close at hand, and +then to go to Munster Court. He had hoped to find his wife alone; +but on his arrival the Dean was there also. "Oh, George," she said, +"I am so glad you have come; where are your things?" He explained +that he had no things, that he had come up only for a short time, and +had left his luggage at the station. "But you will stay here to-night?" +asked Mary, in despair.</p> + +<p>Lord George hesitated, and the Dean at once saw how it was. +"You will not go back to Brotherton to-day," he said. Now, at this +moment the Dean had to settle in his mind the great question whether +it would be best for his girl that she should be separated from her +husband or from her father. In giving him his due it must be acknowledged +that he considered only what might in truth be best for her. If +she were now taken away from him there would be no prospect of recovery. +After all that had passed, after Lord George's submission to +his brother, the Dean was sure that he would be held in abhorrence +by the whole Germain family. Mary would be secluded and trodden +on, and reduced to pale submission by all the dragons till her life would +be miserable. Lord George himself would be prone enough to domineer +in such circumstances. And then that ill word which had been +spoken, and which could only be effectually burned out of the +thoughts of people by a front to the world at the same time innocent<!-- Page 281 --> +and bold, would stick to her for ever if she were carried away into +obscurity.</p> + +<p>But the Dean knew as well as others know how great is the evil of a +separation, and how specially detrimental such a step would be to a +young wife. Than a permanent separation anything would be better; +better even that she should be secluded and maligned, and even, for a +while, trodden under foot. Were such separation to take place his +girl would have been altogether sacrificed, and her life's happiness +brought to shipwreck. But then a permanent separation was not +probable. She had done nothing wrong. The husband and wife did in +truth love each other dearly. The Marquis would be soon gone, and +then Lord George would return to his old habits of thought and his +old allegiance. Upon the whole the Dean thought it best that his +present influence should be used in taking his daughter to the +deanery.</p> + +<p>"I should like to return quite early to-morrow," said Lord George, +very gravely, "unless my brother's condition should make it impossible."</p> + +<p>"I trust you won't find your brother much the worse for what has +happened," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"But you will sleep here to-night," repeated Mary.</p> + +<p>"I will come for you the first thing in the morning," said Lord +George in the same funereal voice.</p> + +<p>"But why;—why?"</p> + +<p>"I shall probably have to be a good deal with my brother during +the afternoon. But I will be here again in the afternoon. You can +be at home at five, and you can get your things ready for going to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Won't you dine here?"</p> + +<p>"I think not."</p> + +<p>Then there was silence for a minute. Mary was completely astounded. +Lord George wished to say nothing further in the presence +of his father-in-law. The Dean was thinking how he would begin to +use his influence. "I trust you will not take Mary away to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Oh;—certainly."</p> + +<p>"I trust not. I must ask you to hear me say a few words about +this."</p> + +<p>"I must insist on her coming with me to-morrow, even though I +should have to return to London myself afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Mary," said her father, "leave us for a moment." Then Mary retired, +with a very saddened air. "Do you understand, George, what +it was that your brother said to me?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," he answered, hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"Then, no doubt, I may take it for granted that you approve of the +violence of my resentment? To me as a clergyman, and as a man +past middle life, the position was very trying. But had I been an<!-- Page 282 --> +Archbishop, tottering on the grave with years, I must have endeavoured +to do the same." This he said with great energy. "Tell +me, George, that you think that I was right."</p> + +<p>But George had not heard the word, had not seen the man's face. +And then, though he would have gone to a desert island with his wife, +had such exile been necessary for her protection, he did believe that +she had misconducted herself. Had he not seen her whirling round +the room with that man after she had been warned against him. "It +cannot be right to murder a man," he said at last.</p> + +<p>"You do not thank me then for vindicating your honour and your +wife's innocence?"</p> + +<p>"I do not think that that was the way. The way is to take her +home."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—to her old home,—to the deanery for a while; so that the +world, which will no doubt hear the malignant epithet applied to her +by your wicked brother, may know that both her husband and her +father support her. You had promised to come to the deanery."</p> + +<p>"We cannot do that now."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that after what has passed you will take your +brother's part?"</p> + +<p>"I will take my wife to Cross Hall," he said, leaving the room and +following Mary up to her chamber.</p> + +<p>"What am I to do, papa?" she said when she came down about +half-an-hour afterwards. Lord George had then started to Scumberg's, +saying that he would come to Munster Court again before dinner, but +telling her plainly that he would not sit down to dine with her father, +"He has determined to quarrel with you."</p> + +<p>"It will only be for a time, dearest."</p> + +<p>"But what shall I do?"</p> + +<p>Now came the peril of the answer. He was sure, almost sure, that +she would in this emergency rely rather upon him than on her husband, +if he were firm; but should he be firm as against the husband, +how great would be his responsibility! "I think, my dear," he said, +at last, "that you should go with me to Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"But he will not let me."</p> + +<p>"I think that you should insist on his promise."</p> + +<p>"Don't make us quarrel, papa."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. Anything would be better than a permanent +quarrel. But, after what has been said, after the foul lies that have +been told, I think that you should assert your purpose of staying for +awhile with your father. Were you now to go to Cross Hall there +would be no limit to their tyranny." He left her without a word more, +and calling at Scumberg's Hotel was told that the Marquis could not +move.</p> + +<p>At that moment Lord George was with his brother, and the Marquis +could talk though he could not move. "A precious family you've<!-- Page 283 --> +married into, George," he said, almost as soon as his brother was in +the room. Then he gave his own version of the affair, leaving his +brother in doubt as to the exact language that had been used. "He +ought to have been a coal-heaver instead of a clergyman," said the +Marquis.</p> + +<p>"Of course he would be angry," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"Nothing astonishes me so much," said the Marquis, "as the way +in which you fellows here think you may say whatever comes into +your head about my wife, because she is an Italian, and you seem to be +quite surprised if I object; yet you rage like wild beasts if the compliment +is returned. Why am I to think better of your wife than you +of mine?"</p> + +<p>"I have said nothing against your wife, Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"By ——, I think you have said a great deal,—and with much less +reason than I have. What did you do yourself when you found her +struggling in that fellow's arms at the old woman's party?" Some +good-natured friend had told the Marquis the whole story of the +Kappa-kappa. "You can't be deaf to what all the world is saying of +her." This was wormwood to the wretched husband, and yet he could +not answer with angry, self-reliant indignation, while his brother was +lying almost motionless before him.</p> + +<p>Lord George found that he could do nothing at Scumberg's Hotel. +He was assured that his brother was not in danger, and that the chief +injury done was to the muscles of his back, which bruised and +lacerated as they were, would gradually recover such elasticity as they +had ever possessed. But other words were said and other hints expressed, +all of which tended to increase his animosity against the +Dean, and almost to engender anger against his wife. To himself, +personally, except in regard to his wife, his brother had not been ungracious. +The Marquis intended to return to Italy as soon as he +could. He hated England and everything in it. Manor Cross would +very soon be at Lord George's disposal, "though I do hope," said the +Marquis, "that the lady who has condescended to make me her +brother-in-law, will never reign paramount there." By degrees there +crept on Lord George's mind a feeling that his brother looked to a +permanent separation,—something like a repudiation. Over and over +again he spoke of Mary as though she had disgraced herself utterly; +and when Lord George defended his wife, the lord only smiled and +sneered.</p> + +<p>The effect upon Lord George was to make him very imperious as he +walked back to Munster Court. He could not repudiate his wife, +but he would take her away with a very high hand. Crossing the +Green Park, at the back of Arlington Street, whom should he meet +but Mrs. Houghton with her cousin Jack. He raised his hat, but +could not stop a moment. Mrs. Houghton made an attempt to arrest +him,—but he escaped without a word and went on very quickly.<!-- Page 284 --> +His wife had behaved generously about Mrs. Houghton. The sight +of the woman brought that truth to his mind. He was aware of that. +But no generosity on the part of the wife, no love, no temper, no virtue, +no piety can be accepted by Cæsar as weighing a grain in counterpoise +against even suspicion.</p> + +<p>He found his wife and asked her whether her things were being +packed. "I cannot go to-morrow," she said.</p> + +<p>"Not go?"</p> + +<p>"No, George;—not to Cross Hall. I will go to the deanery. You +promised to go to the deanery."</p> + +<p>"I will not go to the deanery. I will go to Cross Hall." There +was an hour of it, but during the entire hour, the young wife persisted +obstinately that she would not be taken to Cross Hall. "She had," +she said, "been very badly treated by her husband's family." "Not +by me," shouted the husband. She went on to say that nothing +could now really put her right but the joint love of her father and her +husband. Were she at Cross Hall her father could do nothing for +her. She would not go to Cross Hall. Nothing short of policemen +should take her to Cross Hall to-morrow.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">REAL LOVE.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">"He</span> is looking awfully cut up," Mrs. Houghton said to her cousin.</p> + +<p>"He is one of the most infernal fools that ever I came across in my +life," said Jack.</p> + +<p>"I don't see that he is a fool at all,—any more than all men are +fools. There isn't one among you is ever able to keep his little troubles +to himself. You are not a bit wiser than the rest of them yourself."</p> + +<p>"I haven't got any troubles,—of that sort."</p> + +<p>"You haven't a wife,—but you'll be forced into having one before +long. And when you like another man's wife you can't keep all the +world from knowing it."</p> + +<p>"All the world may know everything that has taken place between +me and Lady George," said Jack. "Of course I like her."</p> + +<p>"I should say, rather."</p> + +<p>"And so do you."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't, sir. I don't like her at all. She is a foolish, meaningless +little creature, with nothing to recommend her but a pretty colour. +And she has cut me because her husband will come and pour out his +sorrow into my ears. For his sake I used to be good to her."</p> + +<p>"I think she is the sweetest human being I ever came across in +my life," said Jack, enthusiastically.<!-- Page 285 --></p> + +<p>"Everybody in London knows that you think so,—and that you +have told her your thoughts."</p> + +<p>"Nobody in London knows anything of the kind. I never said a +word to her that her husband mightn't have heard."</p> + +<p>"Jack!"</p> + +<p>"I never did."</p> + +<p>"I wonder you are not ashamed to confess such simplicity, even +to me."</p> + +<p>"I am not a bit ashamed of that, though I am ashamed of having in +some sort contributed to do her an injury. Of course I love her."</p> + +<p>"Rather,—as I said before."</p> + +<p>"Of course you intended that I should."</p> + +<p>"I intended that you should amuse yourself. As long as you are +good to me, I shall be good to you."</p> + +<p>"My dear Adelaide, nobody can be so grateful as I am. But in +this matter the thing hasn't gone quite as you intended. You say that +she is meaningless."</p> + +<p>"Vapid, flabby, childish, and innocent as a baby."</p> + +<p>"Innocent I am sure she is. Vapid and flabby she certainly is not. +She is full of fun, and is quite as witty as a woman should be."</p> + +<p>"You always liked fools, Jack."</p> + +<p>"Then how did I come to be so very fond of you." In answer to +this she merely made a grimace at him. "I hadn't known her three +days," continued he, "before I began to feel how impossible it would +be to say anything to her that ought not to be said."</p> + +<p>"That is just like the world all over," said Mrs. Houghton. +"When a man really falls in love with a woman he always makes her +such a goddess that he doesn't dare to speak to her. The effect is +that women are obliged to put up with men who ain't in love with +them,—either that, or vouchsafe to tell their own little story,—when, +lo, they are goddesses no longer."</p> + +<p>"I dare say it's very ridiculous," said Jack, in a mooning despondent +way. "I dare say I'm not the man I ought to be after the +advantages I have had in such friends as you and others."</p> + +<p>"If you try to be severe to me, I'll quarrel with you."</p> + +<p>"Not severe at all. I'm quite in earnest. A man, and a woman +too, have to choose which kind of role shall be played. There is innocence +and purity, combined with going to church and seeing that the +children's faces are washed. The game is rather slow, but it lasts a +long time, and leads to great capacity for digesting your dinner in +old age. You and I haven't gone in for that."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that I am not innocent?"</p> + +<p>"Then there is the Devil with all his works,—which I own are, for +the most part, pleasant works to me. I have always had a liking for +the Devil."</p> + +<p>"Jack!"<!-- Page 286 --></p> + +<p>"Of all the saints going he is certainly the most popular. It is +pleasant to ignore the Commandments and enjoy the full liberty of a +debauched conscience. But there are attendant evils. It costs money +and wears out the constitution."</p> + +<p>"I should have thought that you had never felt the latter evil."</p> + +<p>"The money goes first, no doubt. This, however, must surely be +clear. A man should make up his mind and not shilly-shally between +the two."</p> + +<p>"I should have thought you had made up your mind very absolutely."</p> + +<p>"I thought so, too, Adelaide, till I knew Lady George Germain. +I'll tell you what I feel about her now. If I could have any hope that +he would die I would put myself into some reformatory to fit myself +to be her second husband."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens!"</p> + +<p>"That is one idea that I have. Another is to cut his throat, and +take my chance with the widow. She is simply the only woman I ever +saw that I have liked all round."</p> + +<p>"You come and tell me this, knowing what I think of her."</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't I tell you? You don't want me to make love to +you?"</p> + +<p>"But a woman never cares to hear all these praises of another."</p> + +<p>"It was you began it, and if I do speak of her I shall tell the +truth. There is a freshness as of uncut flowers about her."</p> + +<p>"Psha! Worms and grubs!"</p> + +<p>"And when she laughs one dreams of a chaste Venus."</p> + +<p>"My heavens, Jack! You should publish all that!"</p> + +<p>"The dimples on her cheeks are so alluring that I would give my +commission to touch them once with my finger. When I first knew +her I thought that the time would come when I might touch them. +Now I feel that I would not commit such an outrage to save myself +from being cashiered."</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell you what you ought to do?"</p> + +<p>"Hang myself."</p> + +<p>"Just say to her all that you have said to me. You would soon +find that her dimples are not more holy than another's."</p> + +<p>"You think so."</p> + +<p>"Of course I think so. The only thing that puzzles me is that you, +Jack De Baron, should be led away to such idolatry. Why should +she be different from others? Her father is a money-loving, selfish +old reprobate, who was born in a stable. She married the first man +that was brought to her, and has never cared for him because he does +not laugh, and dance, and enjoy himself after her fashion. I don't +suppose she is capable of caring very much for anybody, but she likes +you better than any one else. Have you seen her since the row at +Mrs. Jones's?"<!-- Page 287 --></p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"You have not been, then?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because I don't think she would wish to see me," said Jack. "All +that affair must have troubled her."</p> + +<p>"I don't know how that is. She has been in town ever since, +and he certainly went down to Brotherton. He has come up, I +suppose, in consequence of this row between the Dean and his brother. +I wonder what really did happen?"</p> + +<p>"They say that there was a scuffle and that the parson had very +much the best of it. The police were sent for, and all that kind of +thing. I suppose the Marquis said something very rough to him."</p> + +<p>"Or he to the Marquis, which is rather more likely. Well,—good-day, +Jack." They were now at the house-door in Berkeley Square. +"Don't come in, because Houghton will be here." Then the door +was opened. "But take my advice, and go and call in Munster +Court at once. And, believe me, when you have found out what one +woman is, you have found out what most women are. There are no +such great differences."</p> + +<p>It was then six o'clock, and he knew that in Munster Court they +did not dine till near eight. There was still time with a friend so intimate +as he was for what is styled a morning call. The words which +his cousin had spoken had not turned him,—had not convinced him. +Were he again tempted to speak his real mind about this woman,—as +he had spoken in very truth his real mind,—he would still express the +same opinion. She was to him like a running stream to a man who +had long bathed in stagnant waters. But the hideous doctrines which +his cousin had preached to him were not without their effect. If she +were as other women,—meaning such women as Adelaide Houghton,—or +if she were not, why should he not find out the truth? He was +well aware that she liked him. She had not scrupled to show him +that by many signs. Why should he scruple to say a word that might +show him how the wind blew? Then he remembered a few words +which he had spoken, but which had been taken so innocently, that +they, though they had been meant to be mischievous, had become +innocent themselves. Even things impure became pure by contact +with her. He was sure, quite sure, that that well-known pupil of +Satan, his cousin, was altogether wrong in her judgment. He knew +that Adelaide Houghton could not recognise, and could not appreciate, +a pure woman. But still,—still it is so poor a thing to miss your +plum because you do not dare to shake the tree! It is especially so, +if you are known as a professional stealer of plums!</p> + +<p>When he got into Piccadilly, he put himself into a cab, and had +himself driven to the corner of Munster Court. It was a little street, +gloomy to look at, with dingy doors and small houses, but with windows<!-- Page 288 --> +looking into St. James's Park. There was no way through it, so that +he who entered it must either make his way into some house, or come +back. He walked up to the door, and then taking out his watch, saw +that it was half-past six. It was almost too late for calling. And +then this thing that he intended to do required more thought than he +had given it. Would it not be well for him that there should be something +holy, even to him, in spite of that Devil's advocate who had been +so powerful with him. So he turned, and walking slowly back towards +Parliament Street, got into another cab, and was taken to his club. +"It has come out," said Major M'Mickmack to him, immediately on +his entrance, "that when the Dean went to see Brotherton at the +hotel, Brotherton called Lady George all the bad names he could put +his tongue to."</p> + +<p>"I dare say. He is blackguard enough for anything," said De +Baron.</p> + +<p>"Then the old Dean took his lordship in his arms, and pitched him +bang into the fireplace. I had it all from the police myself."</p> + +<p>"I always liked the Dean."</p> + +<p>"They say he is as strong as Hercules," continued M'Mickmack. +"But he is to lose his deanery."</p> + +<p>"Gammon!"</p> + +<p>"You just ask any of the fellows that know. Fancy a clergyman +pitching a Marquis into the fire!"</p> + +<p>"Fancy a father not doing so if the Marquis spoke ill of his +daughter," said Jack De Baron.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">WHAT THE BROTHERTON CLERGYMEN SAID ABOUT IT.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Had</span> Jack knocked at the door and asked for Lady George he certainly +would not have seen her. She was enduring at that moment, +with almost silent obstinacy, the fierce anger of her indignant husband. +"She was sure that it would be bad for her to go to Cross Hall at +present, or anywhere among the Germains, while such things were +said of her as the Marquis had said." Could Lord George have declared +that the Marquis was at war with the family as he had been at +war some weeks since, this argument would have fallen to the ground. +But he could not do so, and it seemed to be admitted that by going to +Cross Hall she was to take part against her father, and so far to take +part with the Marquis, who had maligned her. This became her +strong point, and as Lord George was not strong in argument, he +allowed her to make the most of it. "Surely you wouldn't let me go<!-- Page 289 --> +anywhere," she said, "where such names as that are believed against +me?" She had not heard the name, nor had he, and they were in the +dark;—but she pleaded her cause well, and appealed again and again +to her husband's promise to take her to the deanery. His stronghold +was that of marital authority,—authority unbounded, legitimate, and +not to be questioned. "But if you commanded me to quarrel with +papa?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I have commanded nothing of the kind."</p> + +<p>"But if you did?"</p> + +<p>"Then you must quarrel with him."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't,—and I wouldn't," said she, burying her face upon the +arm of the sofa.</p> + +<p>At any rate on the next morning she didn't go, nor, indeed, did he +come to fetch her, so convinced had he been of the persistency of her +obstinacy. But he told her as he left her that if she separated herself +from him now, then the separation must be lasting. Her father, however, +foreseeing this threat, had told her just the reverse. "He is an +obstinate man," the Dean had said, "but he is good and conscientious, +and he loves you."</p> + +<p>"I hope he loves me."</p> + +<p>"I am sure he does. He is not a fickle man. At present he has +put himself into his brother's hands, and we must wait till the tide +turns. He will learn by degrees to know how unjust he has been."</p> + +<p>So it came to pass that Lord George went down to Cross Hall in the +morning and that Mary accompanied her father to the deanery the same +afternoon. The Dean had already learned that it would be well that +he should face his clerical enemies as soon as possible. He had already +received a letter worded in friendly terms from the Bishop, asking him +whether he would not wish to make some statement as to the occurrence +at Scumberg's Hotel which might be made known to the clergymen +of the Cathedral. He had replied by saying that he wished to +make no such statement, but that on his return to Brotherton he +would be very willing to tell the Bishop the whole story if the Bishop +wished to hear it. He had been conscious of Mr. Groschut's hand even +among the civil phrases which had come from the Bishop himself. +"In such a matter," he said in his reply, "I am amenable to the +laws of the land, and am not, as I take it, amenable to any other +authority." Then he went on to say that for his own satisfaction he +should be very glad to tell the story to the Bishop.</p> + +<p>The story as it reached Brotherton had, no doubt, given rise to a +great deal of scandal and a great deal of amusement. Pountner and +Holdenough were to some extent ashamed of their bellicose Dean. +There is something ill-mannered, ungentlemanlike, what we now call +rowdy, in personal encounters, even among laymen,—and this is of +course aggravated when the assailant is a clergyman. And these canons, +though they kept up pleasant, social relations with the Dean, were not<!-- Page 290 --> +ill-disposed to make use of so excellent a weapon against a man, who, +though coming from a lower order than themselves, was never disposed +in any way to yield to them. But the two canons were gentlemen, +and as gentlemen were gracious. Though they liked to have the Dean +on the hip, they did not want to hurt him sorely when they had gotten +him there. They would be contented with certain sly allusions, and +only half-expressed triumphs. But Mr. Groschut was confirmed in +his opinion that the Dean was altogether unfit for his position,—which, +for the interests of the Church, should be filled by some such man as +Mr. Groschut himself, by some God-fearing clergyman, not known as +a hard rider across country and as a bruiser with his fists. There had +been an article in the "Brotherton Church Gazette," in which an anxious +hope was expressed that some explanation would be given of the +very incredible tidings which had unfortunately reached Brotherton. +Then Mr. Groschut had spoken a word in season to the Bishop. Of +course he said it could not be true; but would it not be well that the +Dean should be invited to make his own statement? It was Mr. Groschut +who had himself used the word "incredible" in the article. Mr. +Groschut, in speaking to the Bishop, said that the tidings must be untrue. +And yet he believed and rejoiced in believing every word of them. +He was a pious man, and did not know that he was lying. He was an +anxious Christian, and did not know that he was doing his best to injure +an enemy behind his back. He hated the Dean;—but he thought that +he loved him. He was sure that the Dean would go to some unpleasant +place, and gloried in the certainty; but he thought that he was +most anxious for the salvation of the Dean's soul. "I think your Lordship +owes it to him to offer him the opportunity," said Mr. Groschut.</p> + +<p>The Bishop, too, was what we call a severe man;—but his severity +was used chiefly against himself. He was severe in his principles; +but, knowing the world better than his chaplain, was aware how much +latitude it was necessary that he should allow in dealing with men. +And in his heart of hearts he had a liking for the Dean. Whenever +there were any tiffs the Dean could take a blow and give a blow, and +then think no more about it. This, which was a virtue in the eyes of +the Bishop, was no virtue at all to Mr. Groschut, who hated to be hit +himself and wished to think that his own blows were fatal. In urging +the matter with the bishop, Mr. Groschut expressed an opinion that, +if this story were unfortunately true, the Dean should cease to be +Dean. He thought that the Dean must see this himself. "I am +given to understand that he was absolutely in custody of the police," +said Mr. Groschut. The Bishop was annoyed by his chaplain; but still +he wrote the letter.</p> + +<p>On the very morning of his arrival in Brotherton the Dean went to +the palace. "Well, my lord," said the Dean, "you have heard this +cock and bull story."</p> + +<p>"I have heard a story," said the Bishop. He was an old man, very<!-- Page 291 --> +tall and very thin, looking as though he had crushed out of himself all +taste for the pomps and vanities of this wicked world, but singularly +urbane in his manner, with an old-fashioned politeness. He smiled as +he invited the Dean to a seat, and then expressed a hope that nobody +had been much hurt. "Very serious injuries have been spoken of here, +but I know well how rumour magnifies these things."</p> + +<p>"Had I killed him, my lord, I should have been neither more nor +less to blame than I am now, for I certainly endeavoured to do my +worst to him." The Bishop's face assumed a look of pain and wonder. +"When I had the miscreant in my hands I did not pause to measure +the weight of my indignation. He told me, me a father, that my +child was ——." He had risen from his chair, and as he pronounced +the word, stood looking into the Bishop's eyes. "If there be purity +on earth, sweet feminine modesty, playfulness devoid of guile, +absolute freedom from any stain of leprosy, they are to be found +with my girl."</p> + +<p>"Yes! yes; I am sure of that."</p> + +<p>"She is my worldly treasure. I have none other. I desire none +other. I had wounded this man by certain steps which I have taken +in reference to his family;—and then, that he might wound me in +return, he did not scruple, to use that word to his own sister-in-law, +to my daughter. Was that a time to consider whether a clergyman +may be justified in putting out his strength? No; my lord. Old as +you are you would have attempted it yourself. I took him up and +smote him, and it is not my fault if he is not a cripple for life." The +Bishop gazed at him speechlessly, but felt quite sure that it was not in +his power to rebuke his fellow clergyman. "Now, my lord," continued +the Dean, "you have heard the story. I tell it to you, and I +shall tell it to no one else. I tell it you, not because you are the +bishop of this diocese, and I, the Dean of this Cathedral,—and as such I +am in such a matter by no means subject to your lordship's authority;—but, +because of all my neighbours you are the most respected, and I +would wish that the truth should be known to some one." Then he +ceased, neither enjoining secrecy, or expressing any wish that the story +should be correctly told to others.</p> + +<p>"He must be a cruel man," said the Bishop.</p> + +<p>"No, my lord;—he is no man at all. He is a degraded animal +unfortunately placed almost above penalties by his wealth and rank. +I am glad to think that he has at last encountered some little punishment, +though I could wish that the use of the scourge had fallen into +other hands than mine." Then he took his leave, and as he went the +Bishop was very gracious to him.</p> + +<p>"I am almost inclined to think he was justified," said the Bishop to +Mr. Groschut.</p> + +<p>"Justified, my lord! The Dean;—in striking the Marquis of Brotherton, +and then falling into the hands of the police!"<!-- Page 292 --></p> + +<p>"I know nothing about the police."</p> + +<p>"May I ask your lordship what was his account of the transaction."</p> + +<p>"I cannot give it you. I simply say that I think that he was justified." +Then Mr. Groschut expressed his opinion to Mrs. Groschut that +the Bishop was getting old,—very old indeed. Mr. Groschut was +almost afraid that no good could be done in the diocese till a firmer +and a younger man sat in the seat.</p> + +<p>The main facts of the story came to the knowledge of the canons, +though I doubt whether the Bishop ever told all that was told to him. +Some few hard words were said. Canon Pountner made a remark in +the Dean's hearing about the Church militant, which drew forth from +the Dean an allusion to the rites of Bacchus, which the canon only +half understood. And Dr. Holdenough asked the Dean whether there +had not been some little trouble between him and the Marquis. "I +am afraid you have been a little hard upon my noble brother-in-law," +said the Doctor. To which the Dean replied that the Doctor should +teach his noble brother-in-law better manners. But, upon the whole, +the Dean held his own well, and was as carefully waited upon to his +seat by the vergers as though there had been no scene at Scumberg's +Hotel.</p> + +<p>For a time no doubt there was a hope on the part of Mr. Groschut +and his adherents that there would be some further police interference;—that +the Marquis would bring an action, or that the magistrates +would demand some inquiry. But nothing was done. The +Marquis endured his bruised back at any rate in silence. But there +came tidings to Brotherton that his lordship would not again be seen +at Manor Cross that year. The house had been kept up as though for +him, and he had certainly declared his purpose of returning when he +left the place. He had indeed spoken of living there almost to the +end of autumn. But early in July it became known that when he left +Scumberg's Hotel, he would go abroad;—and before the middle of July +it was intimated to Lady Alice, and through her to all Brotherton, +that the Dowager with her daughters and Lord George were going back +to the old house.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Lady George was still at the deanery, and Lord +George at Cross Hall, and to the eyes of the world the husband had +been separated from his wife. His anger was certainly very deep, +especially against his wife's father. The fact that his commands had +been twice,—nay as he said thrice,—disobeyed rankled in his mind. +He had ordered her not to waltz, and she had waltzed with, as Lord +George thought, the most objectionable man in all London. He had +ordered her to leave town with him immediately after Mrs. Jones's +ball, and she had remained in town. He had ordered her now to leave +her father and to cleave to him; but she had cleft to her father and had +deserted him. What husband can do other than repudiate his wife<!-- Page 293 --> +under such circumstances as these! He was moody, gloomy, silent, +never speaking of her, never going into Brotherton lest by chance he +should see her; but always thinking of her,—and always, always +longing for her company.</p> + +<p>She talked of him daily to her father, and was constant in her +prayer that they should not be made to quarrel. Having so long doubted +whether she could ever love him, she now could not understand the +strength of her own feeling. "Papa, mightn't I write to him," she +said. But her father thought that she should not herself take the first +step at any rate till the Marquis was gone. It was she who had in fact +been injured, and the overture should come from the other side. Then +at last, in a low whisper, hiding her face, she told her father a great +secret,—adding with a voice a little raised, "Now, papa, I must write +to him."</p> + +<p>"My darling, my dearest," said the Dean, leaning over and kissing +her with more than his usual demonstration of love.</p> + +<p>"I may write now."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear, you should certainly tell him that." Then the Dean +went out and walked round the deanery garden, and the cathedral +cloisters, and the close, assuring himself that after a very little while +the real Lord Popenjoy would be his own grandson.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">LADY GEORGE AT THE DEANERY.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">It</span> took Mary a long long morning,—not altogether an unhappy +morning,—to write her letter to her husband. She was forced to make +many attempts before she could tell the great news in a fitting way, +and even when the telling was done she was very far from being +satisfied with the manner of it. There should have been no necessity +that such tidings should be told by letter. It was cruel, very cruel, +that such a moment should not have been made happy to her by his +joy. The whisper made to her father should have been made to him,—but +that things had gone so untowardly with her. And then, in her +present circumstances, she could not devote her letter to the one +event. She must refer to the said subject of their separation. "Dear, +dearest George, pray do not think of quarrelling with me," she said +twice over in her letter. The letter did get itself finished at last, and +the groom was sent over with it on horseback.</p> + +<p><a name="tn_pg_302"></a><!-- TN: quotation mark removed-->What answer would he make to her? Would he be very happy? +would he be happy enough to forgive her at once and come and stay +with her at the deanery? or would the importance of the moment make +him more imperious than ever in commanding that she should go with<!-- Page 294 --> +him to Cross Hall. If he did command her now she thought that she +must go. Then she sat meditating what would be the circumstances +of her life there,—how absolutely she would be trodden upon; how +powerless she would be to resist those Dorcas conclaves after her +mutiny and subsequent submission! Though she could not quite guess, +she could nearly guess what bad things had been said of her; and the +ladies at Cross Hall were, as she understood, now in amity with him +who had said them. They had believed evil of her, and of course, +therefore, in going to Cross Hall, she would go to it as to a reformatory. +But the deanery would be to her a paradise if only her husband +would but come to her there. It was not only that she was mistress +of everything, including her own time, but that her father's infinite +tenderness made all things soft and sweet to her. She hated to be +scolded, and the slightest roughness of word or tone seemed to her to +convey a rebuke. But he was never rough. She loved to be caressed +by those who were dear and near and close to her, and his manner was +always caressing. She often loved, if the truth is to be spoken, to be +idle, and to spend hours with an unread book in her hand under the +shade of the deanery trees, and among the flowers of the deanery +garden. The Dean never questioned her as to those idle hours. But +at Cross Hall not a half-hour would be allowed to pass without enquiry +as to its purpose. At Cross Hall there would be no novels,—except +those of Miss Edgeworth, which were sickening to her. She might +have all Mudie down to the deanery if she chose to ask for it. At +Cross Hall she would be driven out with the Dowager, Lady Susanna, +and Lady Amelia, for two hours daily, and would have to get out of +the carriage at every cottage she came to. At the deanery there was +a pair of ponies, and it was her great delight to drive her father about +the roads outside the city. She sometimes thought that a long sojourn +at Cross Hall would kill her. Would he not be kind to her now, and +loving, and would he not come and stay with her for one or two happy +weeks in her father's house? If so, how dearly she would love him; +how good she would be to him; how she would strive to gratify him +in all his whims! Then she thought of Adelaide Houghton and the +letter; and she thought also of those subsequent visits to Berkeley +Square. But still she did not in the least believe that he cared for +Adelaide Houghton. It was impossible that he should like a painted, +unreal, helmeted creature, who smelt of oils, and was never unaffected +for a moment. At any rate she would never, never throw Adelaide +Houghton in his teeth. If she had been imprudent, so had he; and +she would teach him how small errors ought to be forgiven. But +would he come to her, or would he only write? Surely he would come +to her now when there was matter of such vital moment to be discussed +between them! Surely there would be little directions to her given, +which should be obeyed,—oh, with such care, if he would be good +to her.<!-- Page 295 --></p> + +<p>That pernicious groom must have ridden home along the road +nearly as quick as the Dean's cob would carry him for the express +purpose of saying that there was no message. When he had been +about ten minutes in the Cross Hall kitchen, he was told that there +was no message, and had trotted off with most unnecessary speed. +Mary was with her father when word was brought to him, saying that +there was no message. "Oh, papa, he doesn't care!" she said.</p> + +<p>"He will be sure to write," said the Dean, "and he would not +allow himself to write in a hurry."</p> + +<p>"But why doesn't he come?"</p> + +<p>"He ought to come."</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa;—if he doesn't care, I shall die."</p> + +<p>"Men always care very much."</p> + +<p>"But if he has made up his mind to quarrel with me for ever, then +he won't care. Why didn't he send his love?"</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't do that by the groom."</p> + +<p>"I'd send him mine by a chimney-sweep if there were nobody else." +Then the door was opened, and in half a second she was in her husband's +arms. "Oh, George, my darling, my own, I am so happy. I +thought you would come. Oh, my dear!" Then the Dean crept +out without a word, and the husband and the wife were together for +hours.</p> + +<p>"Do you think she is well," said Lord George to the Dean in the +course of the afternoon.</p> + +<p>"Well? why shouldn't she be well!"</p> + +<p>"In this condition I take it one never quite knows."</p> + +<p>"I should say there isn't a young woman in England in better +general health. I never knew her to be ill in my life since she had +the measles."</p> + +<p>"I thought she seemed flushed."</p> + +<p>"No doubt,—at seeing you."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she ought to see the doctor."</p> + +<p>"See a fiddlestick. If she's not fretted she won't want a doctor +till the time comes when the doctor will be with her whether she +wants him or not. There's nothing so bad as coddling. Everybody +knows that now. The great thing is to make her <a name="tn_pg_304"></a><!-- TN: end quote added-->happy."</p> + +<p>There came a cloud across Lord George's brow as this was said,—a +cloud which he could not control, though, as he had hurried across the +park on horseback, he had made up his mind to be happy and good-humoured. +He certainly had cared very much. He had spoken no +word on the subject to anyone, but he had been very much disappointed +when he had been married twelve months and no hope of an heir +had as yet been vouchsafed to him. When his brother had alluded to +the matter, he had rebuked even his brother. He had never ventured +to ask a question even of his wife. But he had been himself aware of his +own bitter disappointment. The reading of his wife's letter had given<!-- Page 296 --> +him a feeling of joy keener than any he had before felt. For a moment +he had been almost triumphant. Of course he would go to her. That +distasteful Popenjoy up in London was sick and ailing; and after all +this might be the true Popenjoy who, in coming days, would re-establish +the glory of the family. But, at any rate, she was his wife, +and the bairn would be his bairn. He had been made a happy man, +and had determined to enjoy to the full the first blush of his happiness. +But when he was told that she was not to be fretted, that she +was to be made especially happy, and was so told by her father, he did +not quite clearly see his way for the future. Did this mean that he +was to give up everything, that he was to confess tacitly that he had +been wrong in even asking his wife to go with him to Cross Hall, and +that he was to be reconciled in all things to the Dean? He was quite +ready to take his wife back, to abstain from accusations against her, +to let her be one of the family, but he was as eager as ever to repudiate +the Dean. To the eyes of his mother the Dean was now the most +horrible of human beings, and her eldest born the dearest of sons. +After all that he had endured he was again going to let her live at the +old family house, and all those doubts about Popenjoy had, she +thought, been fully satisfied. The Marquis to her thinking was now +almost a model Marquis, and this dear son, this excellent head of the +family, had been nearly murdered by the truculent Dean. Of course +the Dean was spoken of at Cross Hall in very bitter terms, and of +course those terms made impression on Lord George. In the first +moments of his paternal anxiety he had been willing to encounter the +Dean in order that he might see his wife; but he did not like to be +told by the Dean that his wife ought to be made happy. "I don't +know what there is to make her unhappy," he said, "if she will do +her duty."</p> + +<p>"That she has always done," said the Dean, "both before her +marriage and since."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she will come home now," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"I hardly know what home means. Your own home I take it is in +Munster Court."</p> + +<p>"My own home is at Manor Cross," said Lord George, proudly.</p> + +<p>"While that is the residence of Lord Brotherton it is absolutely +impossible that she should go there. Would you take her to the +house of a man who has scurrilously maligned her as he has done?"</p> + +<p>"He is not there or likely to be there. Of course she would come +to Cross Hall first."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that would be wise? You were speaking just now +with anxiety as to her condition."</p> + +<p>"Of course I am anxious."</p> + +<p>"You ought to be at any rate. Do you think, that as she is now +she should be subjected to the cold kindnesses of the ladies of your +family?"<!-- Page 297 --></p> + +<p>"What right have you to call their kindness cold?"</p> + +<p>"Ask yourself. You hear what they say. I do not. You must +know exactly what has been the effect in your mother's house of the +scene between me and your brother at that hotel. I spurned him from +me with violence because he had maligned your wife. I may expect +you to forgive me."</p> + +<p>"It was very unfortunate."</p> + +<p>"I may feel sure that you as a man must exonerate me from blame +in that matter, but I cannot expect your mother to see it in the same +light. I ask you whether they do not regard her as wayward and unmanageable?"</p> + +<p>He paused for a reply; and Lord George found himself obliged to +say something. "She should come and show that she is not wayward +or unmanageable."</p> + +<p>"But she would be so to them. Without meaning it they would torment +her, and she would be miserable. Do you not know that it +would be so?" He almost seemed to yield. "If you wish her to be +happy, come here for a while. If you will stay here with us for a +month, so that this stupid idea of a quarrel shall be wiped out of +people's minds, I will undertake that she shall then go to Cross Hall. +To Manor Cross she cannot go while the Marquis is its ostensible +master."</p> + +<p>Lord George was very far from being prepared to yield in this way. +He had thought that his wife in her present condition would have been +sure to obey him, and had even ventured to hope that the Dean would +make no further objection. "I don't think that this is the place for +her," he said. "Wherever I am she should be with me."</p> + +<p>"Then come here, and it will be all right," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"I don't think that I can do that."</p> + +<p>"If you are anxious for her health you will." A few minutes ago +the Dean had been very stout in his assurances that everything was +well with his daughter, but he was by no means unwilling to take advantage +of her interesting situation to forward his own views. "I +certainly cannot say that she ought to go to Cross Hall at present. She +would be wretched there. Ask yourself."</p> + +<p>"Why should she be wretched?"</p> + +<p>"Ask yourself. You had promised her that you would come here. +Does not the very fact of your declining to keep that promise declare +that you are dissatisfied with her conduct, and with mine?" Lord +George was dissatisfied with his wife's conduct and with the Dean's, but +at the present moment did not wish to say so. "I maintain that her +conduct is altogether irreproachable; and as for my own, I feel that +I am entitled to your warmest thanks for what I have done. I must +desire you to understand that we will neither of us submit to blame."</p> + +<p>Nothing had been arranged when Lord George left the deanery. +The husband could not bring himself to say a harsh word to his wife.<!-- Page 298 --> +When she begged him to promise that he would come over to the +deanery, he shook his head. Then she shed a tear, but as she did it +she kissed him, and he could not answer her love by any rough word. +So he rode back to Cross Hall, feeling that the difficulties of his position +were almost insuperable.</p> + +<p>On the next morning Mr. Price came to him. Mr. Price was the +farmer who had formerly lived at Cross Hall, who had given his house +up to the Dowager, and who had in consequence been told that he +must quit the land at the expiration of his present term. "So, my +lord, his lordship ain't going to stay very long after all," said Mr. +Price.</p> + +<p>"I don't quite know as yet," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"I have had Mr. Knox with me this morning, saying that I may go +back to the Hall whenever I please. He took me so much by surprise, +I didn't know what I was doing."</p> + +<p>"My mother is still there, Mr. Price."</p> + +<p>"In course she is, my lord. But Mr. Knox was saying that she is +going to move back at once to the old house. It's very kind of his +lordship, I'm sure, to let bygones be bygones." Lord George could +only say that nothing was as yet settled, but that Mr. Price would be, +of course, welcome to Cross Hall, should the family go back to Manor +Cross.</p> + +<p>This took place about the 10th of June, and for a fortnight after +that no change took place in any of their circumstances. Lady Alice +Holdenough called upon Lady George, and, with her husband, dined +at the deanery; but Mary saw nothing else of any of the ladies of +the family. No letter came from either of her sisters-in-law congratulating +her as to her new hopes, and the Manor Cross carriage never +stopped at the Dean's door. The sisters came to see Lady Alice, who +lived also in the Close, but they never even asked for Lady George. All +this made the Dean very angry, so that he declared that his daughter +should under no circumstances be the first to give way. As she had +not offended, she should never be driven to ask for pardon. During +this time Lord George more than once saw his wife, but he had no +further interview with the Dean.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">LADY SARAH'S MISSION.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Towards</span> the end of June the family at Cross Hall were in great +perturbation. In the first place it had been now settled that they were +to go back to the great house early in July. This might have been a<!-- Page 299 --> +source of unalloyed gratification. The old Marchioness had been +made very unhappy by the change to Cross Hall, and had persisted in +calling her new home a wretched farmhouse. Both Lady Susanna +and Lady Amelia were quite alive to the advantages of the great mansion. +Lord George had felt that his position in the county had been +very much injured by recent events. This might partly have come +from his residence in London; but had, no doubt, been chiefly owing +to the loss of influence arising from the late migration. He was glad +enough to go back again. But Lady Sarah was strongly opposed to +the new movement. "I don't think that mamma should be made +liable to be turned out again," she had said to her brother and +sisters.</p> + +<p>"But mamma is particularly anxious to go," Amelia had replied.</p> + +<p>"You can't expect mamma to think correctly about Brotherton," +said Lady Sarah. "He is vicious and fickle, and I do not like to +feel that any of us should be in his power." But Lady Sarah, who +had never been on good terms with her elder brother, was overruled, +and everybody knew that in July the family was to return to Manor +Cross.</p> + +<p>Then there came tidings from London,—unauthorised tidings, and, +one may say, undignified tidings,—but still tidings which were received +with interest. Mrs. Toff had connections with Scumberg's, and heard +through these connections that things at Scumberg's were not going on +in a happy way. Mrs. Toff's correspondent declared that the Marquis +had hardly been out of his bed since he had been knocked into the +fireplace. Mrs. Toff, who had never loved the Dean and had never +approved of that alliance, perhaps made the most of this. But the +report, which was first made to the Dowager herself, caused very great +uneasiness. The old lady said that she must go up to London herself +to nurse her son. Then a letter was written by Lady Amelia to her +brother, asking for true information. This was the answer which Lady +Amelia received;—</p> + +<div class="blockquot">"<span class="smcap">Dear A.</span>,—I'm pretty well, thank you. Don't trouble yourselves. +Yours, B."</div> + +<p>"I'm sure he's dying," said the Marchioness, "and he's too noble-hearted +to speak of his sufferings." Nevertheless she felt that she +did not dare to go up to Scumberg's just at present.</p> + +<p>Then there came further tidings. Mrs. Toff was told that the +Italian Marchioness had gone away, and had taken Popenjoy with her. +There was not anything necessarily singular in this. When a gentleman +is going abroad with his family, he and his family need not as a +matter of course travel together. Lord Brotherton had declared his +purpose of returning to Italy, and there could be no reason why his +wife, with the nurses and the august Popenjoy, should not go before<!-- Page 300 --> +him. It was just such an arrangement as such a man as Lord Brotherton +would certainly make. But Mrs. Toff was sure that there was +more in it than this. The Italian Marchioness had gone off very suddenly. +There had been no grand packing up;—but there had been +some very angry words. And Popenjoy, when he was taken away, +was supposed to be in a very poor condition of health. All this created +renewed doubts in the mind of Lord George, or rather, perhaps, renewed +hopes. Perhaps, after all, Popenjoy was not Popenjoy. And +even if he were, it seemed that everyone concurred in thinking that +the poor boy would die. Surely the Marquis would not have allowed +a sick child to be carried away by an indiscreet Italian mother if he +cared much for the sick child. But then Lord George had no real +knowledge of these transactions. All this had come through Mrs. Toff, +and he was hardly able to rely upon Mrs. Toff. Could he have communicated +with the Dean, the Dean would soon have found out the +truth. The Dean would have flown up to London and have known all +about it in a couple of hours; but Lord George was not active and +clever as the Dean.</p> + +<p>Then he wrote a letter to his brother;—as follows;—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Brotherton</span>,—We have heard through Mr. Knox that +you wish us to move to Manor Cross at once, and we are preparing to +do so. It is very kind of you to let us have the house, as Cross Hall +is not all that my mother likes, and as there would hardly be room for +us should my wife have children. I ought perhaps to have told you +sooner that she is in the family way. We hear too that you are thinking +of starting for Italy very soon, and that the Marchioness and +Popenjoy have already gone. Would it suit you to tell us something +of your future plans? It is not that I want to be inquisitive, but that +I should like to know with reference to your comfort and our own +whether you think that you will be back at Manor Cross next year. +Of course we should be very sorry to be in your way, but we should +not like to give up Cross Hall till we know that it will not be wanted +again.</p> + +<p>"I hope you are getting better. I could of course come up to town +at a moment's notice, if you wished to see me.</p> + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature2">"Yours affectionately,<br></span> +<span class="smcap presignature3">"George Germain."<br></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>There was nothing in this letter which ought to have made any +brother angry, but the answer which came to it certainly implied that +the Marquis had received it with dudgeon.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +"<span class="smcap">My Dear George</span>," the Marquis said, +</p> + +<p>"I can give you no guarantee that I shall not want Manor Cross +again, and you ought not to expect it. If you and the family go there<!-- Page 301 --> +of course I must have rent for Cross Hall. I don't suppose I shall +ever recover altogether from the injury that cursed brute did me.</p> + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature3">"Yours, <a name="tn_pg_310"></a><!-- TN: double quotes changed to single-->'B.'<br></span> +</div> + +<p>"As to your coming family of course I can say nothing. You won't +expect me to be very full of joy. Nevertheless, for the honour of the +family, I hope it is all right."</p></div> + +<p>There was a brutality about this which for a time made the expectant +father almost mad. He tore the letter at once into fragments, so that +he might be ready with an answer if asked to show it to his sisters. +Lady Sarah had known of his writing, and did ask as to her brother's +answer. "Of course he told me nothing," said Lord George. "He +is not like any other brother that ever lived."</p> + +<p>"May I see his letter?"</p> + +<p>"I have destroyed it. It was not fit to be seen. He will not say +whether he means to come back next year or not."</p> + +<p>"I would not stir, if it were for me to determine," said Lady Sarah. +"Nobody ever ought to live in another person's house as long as he +has one of his own;—and of all men certainly not in Brotherton's." +Nevertheless, the migration went on, and early in July the Marchioness +was once more in possession of her own room at Manor Cross, and +Mrs. Toff was once again in the ascendant.</p> + +<p>But what was to be done about Mary? Had Popenjoy been reported +to enjoy robust health, and had Mary been as Mary was a +month or two since, the Marchioness and Lady Susanna would have +been contented that the present separation should have been permanent. +They would at any rate have taken no steps to put an end to it which +would not have implied abject submission on Mary's part. But now +things were so altered! If this Popenjoy should die, and if Mary +should have a son, Mary's position would be one which they could not +afford to overlook. Though Mary should be living in absolute rebellion +with that horrid Dean, still her Popenjoy would in course of time +be the Popenjoy, and nothing that any Germain could do would stand +in her way. Her Popenjoy would be Popenjoy as soon as the present +Marquis should die, and the family estates would all in due time be +his! Her position had been becoming daily more honourable as these +rumours were received. Everyone at Manor Cross, down to the boy +in the kitchen, felt that her dignity had been immeasurably increased. +Her child should now certainly be born at Manor Cross,—though the +deanery would have been quite good enough had the present Popenjoy +been robust. Something must be done. The Marchioness was clear +that Mary should be taken into favour and made much of,—even +hinted that she should not be asked to make shirts and petticoats,—if +only she could be separated from the pestilential Dean. She spoke in +private to her son, who declared that nothing would separate Mary<!-- Page 302 --> +from her father. "I don't think I could entertain him after what he +did to Brotherton," said the Marchioness, bursting into tears.</p> + +<p>There were great consultations at Manor Cross, in which the wisdom +of Lady Sarah and Lady Susanna, and sometimes the good offices of +Lady Alice Holdenough were taxed to the utmost. Lady Sarah had +since the beginning of these latter troubles been Mary's best friend, +though neither Mary nor the Dean had known of her good services. +She had pretty nearly understood the full horror of the accusation +brought by the Marquis, and had in her heart acquitted the Dean. +Though she was hard she was very just. She believed no worse evil +of Mary than that she had waltzed when her husband had wished her +not to do so. To Lady Sarah all waltzing was an abomination, and +disobedience to legitimate authority was abominable also. But then +Mary had been taken to London, and had been thrown into temptation, +and was very young. Lady Sarah knew that her own life was +colourless, and was contented. But she could understand that women +differently situated should not like a colourless existence. She had +seen Adelaide Houghton and her sister-in-law together, and had known +that her brother's lot had fallen in much the better place, and, to her, +any separation between those whom God had bound together was +shocking and wicked. Lady Susanna was louder and less just. She +did not believe that Mary had done anything to merit expulsion from +the family; but she did think that her return to it should be accompanied +by sackcloth and ashes. Mary had been pert to her, and she +was not prone to forgive. Lady Alice had no opinion,—could say +nothing about it; but would be happy if, by her services, she could +assuage matters.</p> + +<p>"Does she ever talk of him," Lady Susanna asked.</p> + +<p>"Not to me; I don't think she dares. But whenever he goes there +she is delighted to see him."</p> + +<p>"He has not been for the last ten days," said Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>"I don't think he will ever go again,—unless it be to fetch her," +said Lady Susanna. "I don't see how he can keep on going there, +when she won't do as he bids her. I never heard of such a thing! +Why should she choose to live with her father when she is his wife? I +can't understand it at all."</p> + +<p>"There has been some provocation," said Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>"What provocation? I don't know of any. Just to please her +fancy, George had to take a house in London, and live there against +his own wishes."</p> + +<p>"It was natural that she should go to the deanery for a few days; +but when she was there no one went to see her."</p> + +<p>"Why did she not come here first?" said Lady Susanna. "Why +did she take upon herself to say where she would go, instead of leaving +it to her husband. Of course it was the Dean. How can any +man be expected to endure that his wife should be governed by<!-- Page 303 --> +her father instead of by himself? I think George has been very +forbearing."</p> + +<p>"You have hardly told the whole story," said Lady Sarah. "Nor +do I wish to tell it. Things were said which never should have been +spoken. If you will have me, Alice, I will go to Brotherton for a day +or two, and I will then go and see her."</p> + +<p>And so it was arranged. No one in the house was told of the new +plan, Lady Susanna having with difficulty been brought to promise +silence. Lady Sarah's visit was of course announced, and that alone +created great surprise, as Lady Sarah very rarely left home. The +Marchioness had two or three floods of tears over it, and suggested +that the carriage would be wanted for the entire day. This evil, however, +was altogether escaped, as Lady Alice had a carriage of her own. +"I'm sure I don't know who is to look after Mrs. Green," said the +Marchioness. Mrs. Green was an old woman of ninety who was supported +by Germain charity and was visited almost daily by Lady Sarah. +But Lady Amelia promised that she would undertake Mrs. Green. +"Of course I'm nobody," said the Marchioness. Mrs. Toff and all +who knew the family were sure that the Marchioness would, in truth, +enjoy her temporary freedom from her elder daughter's control.</p> + +<p>Whatever might have been Lord George's suspicion, he said nothing +about it. It had not been by agreement with him that the ladies of +the family had abstained from calling on his wife. He had expressed +himself in very angry terms as to the Dean's misconduct in keeping +her in Brotherton, and in his wrath had said more than once that he +would never speak to the Dean again. He had not asked any one to +go there; but neither had he asked them not to do so. In certain of +his moods he was indignant with his sisters for their treatment of his +wife; and then again he would say to himself that it was impossible +that they should go into the Dean's house after what the Dean had +done. Now, when he heard that his eldest sister was going to the +Close, he said not a word.</p> + +<p>On the day of her arrival Lady Sarah knocked at the deanery door +alone. Up to this moment she had never put her foot in the house. +Before the marriage she had known the Dean but slightly, and the +visiting to be done by the family very rarely fell to her share. The +streets of Brotherton were almost strange to her, so little was she +given to leave the sphere of her own duties. In the hall, at the door +of his study, she met the Dean. He was so surprised that he hardly +knew how to greet her. "I am come to call upon Mary," said Lady +Sarah, very brusquely.</p> + +<p>"Better late than never," said the Dean, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"I hope so," said Lady Sarah, very solemnly. "I hope that I am +not doing that which ought not to be done. May I see her?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you can see her. I dare say she will be delighted. Is +your carriage here?"<!-- Page 304 --></p> + +<p>"I am staying with my sister. Shall I go upstairs?"</p> + +<p>Mary was in the garden, and Lady Sarah was alone for a few +minutes in the drawing-room. Of course she thought that this time +was spent in conference by the father and daughter; but the Dean +did not even see his child. He was anxious enough himself that the +quarrel should be brought to an end, if only that end could be reached +by some steps to be taken first by the other side. Mary, as she +entered the room, was almost frightened, for Lady Sarah had certainly +been the greatest of the bugbears when she was living at Manor Cross, +"I am come to congratulate you," said Lady Sarah, putting her hand +out straight before her.</p> + +<p>Better late than never. Mary did not say so, as her father had +done, but only thought it. "Thank you," she said, in a very low voice. +"Has any one else come?"</p> + +<p>"No,—no one else. I am with Alice, and as I have very very much +to say, I have come alone. Oh! Mary,—dear Mary, is not this sad?" +Mary was not at all disposed to yield, or to acknowledge that the +sadness was, in any degree, her fault, but she remembered, at the +moment, that Lady Sarah had never called her "dear Mary" before. +"Don't you wish that you were back with George?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do. How can I wish anything else?"</p> + +<p>"Why don't you go back to him?"</p> + +<p>"Let him come here and fetch me, and be friends with papa. He +promised that he would come and stay here. Is he well, Sarah?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; he is well."</p> + +<p>"Quite well? Give him my love,—my best love. Tell him that in +spite of everything I love him better than all the world."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you do."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—of course I do. I could be so happy now if he would come +to me."</p> + +<p>"You can go to him. I will take you if you wish it."</p> + +<p>"You don't understand," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"What don't I understand?"</p> + +<p>"About papa."</p> + +<p>"Will he not let you go to your husband?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose he would let me go;—but if I were gone what would +become of him?"</p> + +<p>Lady Sarah did not, in truth, understand this. "When he gave +you to be married," she said, "of course he knew that you must go +away from him and live with your husband. A father does not expect +a married daughter to stay in his own house."</p> + +<p>"But he expects to be able to go to hers. He does not expect to +be quarrelled with by everybody. If I were to go to Manor Cross, +papa couldn't even come and see me."</p> + +<p>"I think he could."</p> + +<p>"You don't know papa if you fancy he would go into any house in<!-- Page 305 --> +which he was not welcome. Of course I know that you have all +quarrelled with him. You think because he beat the Marquis up in +London that he oughtn't ever to be spoken to again. But I love him +for what he did more dearly than ever. He did it for my sake. He +was defending me, and defending George. I have done nothing +wrong. If it is only for George's sake, I will never admit that I have +deserved to be treated in this way. None of you have come to see +me before, since I came back from London, and now George doesn't +come."</p> + +<p>"We should all have been kind to you if you had come to us first."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and then I should never have been allowed to be here at all. +Let George come and stay here, if it is only for two days, and be kind +to papa, and then I will go with him to Manor Cross."</p> + +<p>Lady Sarah was much surprised by the courage and persistence of +the young wife's plea. The girl had become a woman, and was altered +even in appearance. She certainly looked older, but then she was +certainly much more beautiful than before. She was dressed, not +richly, but with care, and looked like a woman of high family. Lady +Sarah, who never changed either the colour or the material of her +brown morning gown, liked to look at her, telling herself that should +it ever be this woman's fate to be Marchioness of Brotherton, she +would not in appearance disgrace the position. "I hope you can +understand that we are very anxious about you," she said.</p> + +<p>"I don't know."</p> + +<p>"You might know, then. Your baby will be a Germain."</p> + +<p>"Ah,—yes,—for that! You can't think I am happy without +George. I am longing all day long, from morning to night, that he +will come back to me. But after all that has happened, I must do +what papa advises. If I were just to go to Manor Cross now, and +allow myself to be carried there alone, you would all feel that I had +been—forgiven. Isn't that true?"</p> + +<p>"You would be very welcome."</p> + +<p>"Susanna would forgive me, and your mother. And I should be +like a girl who has been punished, and who is expected to remember +ever so long that she has been naughty. I won't be forgiven, except +by George,—and he has nothing to forgive. You would all think me +wicked if I were there, because I would not live in your ways."</p> + +<p>"We should not think you wicked, Mary."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you would. You thought me wicked before."</p> + +<p>"Don't you believe we love you, Mary?"</p> + +<p>She considered a moment before she made a reply, but then made it +very clearly: "No," she said, "I don't think you do. George loves +me. Oh, I hope he loves me."</p> + +<p>"You may be quite sure of that. And I love you."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—just as you love all people, because the Bible tells you. +That is not enough."<!-- Page 306 --></p> + +<p>"I will love you like a sister, Mary, if you will come back to us."</p> + +<p>She liked being asked. She was longing to be once more with her +husband. She desired of all things to be able to talk to him of her +coming hopes. There was something in the tone of Lady Sarah's voice, +different from the tones of old, which had its effect. She would +promise to go if only some slightest concession could be made, which +should imply that neither she nor her father had given just cause of +offence. And she did feel,—she was always feeling,—that her husband +ought to remember that she had never brought counter-charges against +him. She had told no one of Mrs. Houghton's letter. She was far +too proud to give the slightest hint that she too had her grievance. +But surely he should remember it. "I should like to go," she said.</p> + +<p>"Then come back with me to-morrow." Lady Sarah had come only +on this business, and if the business were completed there would be +no legitimate reason for her prolonged sojourn at Brotherton.</p> + +<p>"Would George come here for one night."</p> + +<p>"Surely, Mary, you would not drive a bargain with your husband."</p> + +<p>"But papa!"</p> + +<p>"Your father can only be anxious for your happiness."</p> + +<p>"Therefore I must be anxious for his. I can't say that I'll go without +asking him."</p> + +<p>"Then ask him and come in and see me at Alice's house this afternoon. +And tell your father that I say you shall be received with all +affection."</p> + +<p>Mary made no promise that she would do even this as Lady Sarah +took her leave; but she did at once consult her father. "Of course +you can go if you like it, dearest."</p> + +<p>"But you!"</p> + +<p>"Never mind me. I am thinking only of you. They will be different +to you now that they think you will be the mother of the heir."</p> + +<p>"Would you take me, and stay there, for one night?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I could do that, dear. I do not consider that I +have been exactly asked."</p> + +<p>"But if they will ask you?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot ask to be asked. To tell the truth I am not at all anxious +to be entertained at Manor Cross. They would always be thinking of +that fireplace into which the Marquis fell."</p> + +<p>The difficulty was very great and Mary could not see her way through +it. She did not go to Dr. Holdenough's house that afternoon, but +wrote a very short note to Lady Sarah begging that George might +come over and talk to her.<!-- Page 307 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">"THAT YOUNG FELLOW IN THERE."</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">A day</span> or two after this Lord George did call at the deanery, but +stayed there only for a minute or two, and on that occasion did not +even speak of Mary's return to Manor Cross. He was considerably +flurried, and showed his wife the letter which had caused his excitement. +It was from his brother, and like most of the Marquis's letters +was very short.</p> + +<p>"I think you had better come up and see me. I'm not very well. +B." That was the entire letter, and he was now on his way to +London.</p> + +<p>"Do you think it is much, George?"</p> + +<p>"He would not write like that unless he were really ill. He has +never recovered from the results of that—accident."</p> + +<p>Then it occurred to Mary that if the Marquis were to die, and +Popenjoy were to die, she would at once be the Marchioness of +Brotherton, and that people would say that her father had raised her +to the title by—killing the late lord. And it would be so. There +was something so horrible in this that she trembled as she thought of +it. "Oh, George!"</p> + +<p>"It is very—very sad."</p> + +<p>"It was his fault; wasn't it? I would give all the world that +he were well; but it was his fault." Lord George was silent. "Oh, +George, dear George, acknowledge that. Was it not so? Do you not +think so? Could papa stand by and hear him call me such names as +that? Could you have done so?"</p> + +<p>"A man should not be killed for an angry word."</p> + +<p>"Papa did not mean to kill him!"</p> + +<p>"I can never be reconciled to the man who has taken the life of my +brother."</p> + +<p>"Do you love your brother better than me?"</p> + +<p>"You and your father are not one."</p> + +<p>"If this is to be said of him I will always be one with papa. He +did it for my sake and for yours. If they send him to prison I will go +with him. George, tell the truth about it."</p> + +<p>"I always tell the truth," he said angrily.</p> + +<p>"Did he not do right to protect his girl's name? I will never leave +him now; never. If everybody is against him, I will never leave +him."</p> + +<p>No good was to be got from the interview. Whatever progress +Lady Sarah may have made was altogether undone by the husband's +sympathy for his injured brother. Mary declared to herself that if there<!-- Page 308 --> +must be two sides, if there must be a real quarrel, she could never be +happy again, but that she certainly would not now desert her father. +Then she was left alone. Ah, what would happen if the man were to +die. Would any woman ever have risen to high rank in so miserable +a manner! In her tumult of feelings she told her father everything, +and was astonished by his equanimity. "It may be so," he said, +"and if so, there will be considerable inconvenience."</p> + +<p>"Inconvenience, papa!"</p> + +<p>"There will be a coroner's inquest, and perhaps some kind of trial. +But when the truth comes out no English jury will condemn me."</p> + +<p>"Who will tell the truth, papa?"</p> + +<p>The Dean knew it all, and was well aware that there would be no +one to tell the truth on his behalf,—no one to tell it in such guise that +a jury would be entitled to accept the telling as evidence. A verdict +of manslaughter with punishment, at the discretion of the judge, would +be the probable result. But the Dean did not choose to add to his +daughter's discomfort by explaining this. "The chances are that this +wretched man is dying. No doubt his health is bad. How should +the health of such a man be good? But had he been so hurt as to die +from it, the doctor would have found something out long since. He +may be dying, but he is not dying from what I did to him." The +Dean was disturbed, but in his perturbation he remembered that if the +man were to die there would be nothing but that little alien Popenjoy +between his daughter and the title.</p> + +<p>Lord George hurried up to town, and took a room for himself at an +hotel in Jermyn Street. He would not go to Scumberg's, as he did +not wish to mix his private life with that of his brother. That afternoon +he went across, and was told that his brother would see him at three +o'clock the next day. Then he interrogated Mrs. Walker as to his +brother's condition. Mrs. Walker knew nothing about it, except that +the Marquis lay in bed during the most of his time, and that Dr. +Pullbody was there every day. Now Dr. Pullbody was an eminent +physician, and had the Marquis been dying from an injury in his +back an eminent surgeon would have been required. Lord George +dined at his club on a mutton chop and a half a pint of sherry, and +then found himself terribly dull. What could he do with himself? +Whither could he betake himself? So he walked across Piccadilly +and went to the old house in Berkeley Square.</p> + +<p>He had certainly become very sick of the woman there. He had +discussed the matter with himself and had found out that he did not +care one straw for the woman. He had acknowledged to himself that +she was a flirt, a mass of affectation, and a liar. And yet he went to +her house. She would be soft to him and would flatter him, and +the woman would trouble herself to do so. She would make him +welcome, and in spite of his manifest neglect would try, for the hour, +to make him comfortable.<!-- Page 309 --></p> + +<p>He was shown up into the drawing-room and there he found Jack +De Baron, Guss Mildmay;—and Mr. Houghton, fast asleep. The host +was wakened up to bid him welcome, but was soon slumbering again. +De Baron and Guss Mildmay had been playing bagatelle,—or flirting +in the back drawing-room, and after a word or two returned to their +game. "Ill is he?" said Mrs. Houghton, speaking of the Marquis, +"I suppose he has never recovered from that terrible blow."</p> + +<p>"I have not seen him yet, but I am told that Dr. Pullbody is with +him."</p> + +<p>"What a tragedy,—if anything should happen! She has gone +away; has she not."</p> + +<p>"I do not know. I did not ask."</p> + +<p>"I think she has gone, and that she has taken the child with her; +a poor puny thing. I made Houghton go there to enquire, and he +saw the child. I hear from my father that we are to congratulate you."</p> + +<p>"Things are too sad for congratulation."</p> + +<p>"It is horrible; is it not? And Mary is with her father."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she's at the deanery."</p> + +<p>"Is that right?—when all this is going on?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think anything is right," he said, gloomily.</p> + +<p>"Has she—quarrelled with you, George?" At the sound of his +Christian name from the wife's lips he looked round at the sleeping +husband. He was quite sure that Mr. Houghton would not like to +hear his wife call him George. "He sleeps like a church," said Mrs. +Houghton, in a low voice. The two were sitting close together and +Mr. Houghton's arm-chair was at a considerable distance. The +occasional knocking of the balls, and the continued sound of voices +was to be heard from the other room. "If you have separated from +her I think you ought to tell me."</p> + +<p>"I saw her to-day as I came through."</p> + +<p>"But she does not go to Manor Cross?"</p> + +<p>"She has been at the deanery since she went down."</p> + +<p>Of course this woman knew of the quarrel which had taken place +in London. Of course she had been aware that Lady George had +stayed behind in opposition to her husband's wishes. Of course she +had learned every detail as to the Kappa-kappa. She took it for +granted that Mary was in love with Jack De Baron, and thought it +quite natural that she should be so. "She never understood you as +I should have done, George," whispered the lady. Lord George again +looked at the sleeping man, who grunted and moved, "He would +hardly hear a pistol go off."</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't I?" said the sleeping man, rubbing away the flies from +his nose. Lord George wished himself back at his club.</p> + +<p>"Come out into the balcony," said Mrs. Houghton. She led the +way and he was obliged to follow her. There was a balcony to this +house surrounded with full-grown shrubs, so that they who stood there<!-- Page 310 --> +could hardly be seen from the road below. "He never knows what +any one is saying." As she spoke she came close up to her visitor. +"At any rate he has the merit of never troubling me or himself by +any jealousies."</p> + +<p>"I should be very sorry to give him cause," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"What's that you say?" Poor Lord George had simply been awkward, +having intended no severity. "Have you given him no cause?"</p> + +<p>"I meant that I should be sorry to trouble him."</p> + +<p>"Ah—h! That is a different thing. If husbands would only be +complaisant, how much nicer it would be for everybody." Then there +was a pause. "You do love me, George?" There was a beautiful +moon that was bright through the green foliage, and there was a smell +of sweet exotics, and the garden of the Square was mysteriously pretty +as it lay below them in the moonlight. He stood silent, making no +immediate answer to this appeal. He was in truth plucking up his +courage for a great effort. "Say that you love me. After all that is +passed you must love me." Still he was silent. "George, will you +not speak?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I will speak."</p> + +<p>"Well, sir!"</p> + +<p>"I do not love you."</p> + +<p>"What! But you are laughing at me. You have some scheme or +some plot going on."</p> + +<p>"I have nothing going on. It is better to say it. I love my wife."</p> + +<p>"Psha! love her;—yes, as you would a doll or any pretty plaything. +I loved her too till she took it into her stupid head to quarrel with me. +I don't grudge her such love as that. She is a child."</p> + +<p>It occurred to Lord George at the moment that his wife had certainly +more than an infantine will of her own. "You don't know her," +he said.</p> + +<p>"And now, after all, you tell me to my face that you do not love +me! Why have you sworn so often that you did?" He hadn't sworn +it often. He had never sworn it at all since she had rejected him. +He had been induced to admit a passion in the most meagre terms. +"Do you own yourself to be false?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I am true to my wife."</p> + +<p>"Your wife! One would think you were the curate of the parish. +And is that to be all?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. Houghton; that had better be all."</p> + +<p>"Then why did you come here? Why are you here now?" She had +not expected such courage from him, and almost thought more of him +now than she had ever thought before. "How dare you come to this +house at all?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I should not have come."</p> + +<p>"And I am nothing to you?" she asked in her most plaintive accents. +"After all those scenes at Manor Cross you can think of me<!-- Page 311 --> +with indifference?" There had been no scenes, and as she spoke he +shook his head, intending to disclaim them. "Then go!" How was +he to go? Was he to wake Mr. Houghton? Was he to disturb that +other loving couple? Was he to say no word of farewell to her? "Oh, +stay," she added, <a name="tn_pg_320"></a><!-- TN: quotation mark added here-->"and unsay it all—unsay it all and give no reason, +and it shall be as though it were never said." Then she seized him by +the arm and looked passionately up into his eyes. Mr. Houghton +moved restlessly in his chair and coughed aloud. "He'll be off again +in half a moment," said Mrs. Houghton. Then he was silent, and she +was silent, looking at him. And he heard a word or two come clearly +from the back drawing-room. "You will, Jack; won't you, dear +Jack?"</p> + +<p>The ridicule of the thing touched even him. "I think I had better +go," he said.</p> + +<p>"Then go!"</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Mrs. Houghton."</p> + +<p>"I will not say good-night. I will never speak to you again. You are +not worth speaking to. You are false. I knew that men could be false, +but not so false as you. Even that young fellow in there has some +heart. He loves your—darling wife, and will be true to his love." She +was a very devil in her wickedness. He started as though he had +been stung, and rushed inside for his hat. "Halloa, Germain, are +you going?" said the man of the house, rousing himself for the +moment.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am going. Where did I leave my hat?"</p> + +<p>"You put it on the piano," said Mrs. Houghton in her mildest +voice, standing at the window. Then he seized his hat and went off. +"What a very stupid man he is," she said, as she entered the room.</p> + +<p>"A very good sort of fellow," said Mr. Houghton.</p> + +<p>"He's a gentleman all round," said Jack De Baron. Jack knew +pretty well how the land lay and could guess what had occurred.</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure of that," said the lady. "If he were a gentleman +as you say all round, he would not be so much afraid of his elder +brother. He has come up to town now merely because Brotherton +sent to him, and when he went to Scumberg's the Marquis would +not see him. He is just like his sisters,—priggish, punctilious and +timid."</p> + +<p>"He has said something nasty to you," remarked her husband, "or +you would not speak of him like that."</p> + +<p>She had certainly said something very nasty to him. As he returned +to his club he kept on repeating to himself her last words;— +"He loves your darling wife." Into what a mass of trouble had he +not fallen through the Dean's determination that his daughter should +live in London! He was told on all sides that this man was in love +with his wife, and he knew,—he had so much evidence for knowing,—that +his wife liked the man. And now he was separated from his wife,<!-- Page 312 --> +and she could go whither her father chose to take her. For aught that +he could do she might be made to live within the reach of this young +scoundrel. No doubt his wife would come back if he would agree to +take her back on her own terms. She would again belong to him if +he would agree to take the Dean along with her. But taking the Dean +would be to put himself into the Dean's leading strings. The Dean was +strong and imperious; and then the Dean was rich. But anything +would be better than losing his wife. Faulty as he thought her to be, +she was sweet as no one else was sweet. When alone with him she +would seem to make every word of his a law. Her caresses were full +of bliss to him. When he kissed her her face would glow with pleasure. +Her voice was music to him; her least touch was joy. There was a +freshness about the very things which she wore which pervaded his +senses. There was a homeliness about her beauty which made her +more lovely in her own room than when dressed for balls and parties. +And yet he had heard it said that when dressed she was declared to be +the most lovely woman that had come to London that season. And now +she was about to become the mother of his child. He was thoroughly +in love with his wife. And yet he was told that his wife was "Jack +De Baron's darling!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII" id="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">THE MARQUIS MAKES A PROPOSITION.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> next morning was very weary with him, as he had nothing to +do till three o'clock. He was most anxious to know whether his +sister-in-law had in truth left London, but he had no means of finding +out. He could not ask questions on such a subject from Mrs. Walker +and her satellites; and he felt that it would be difficult to ask even his +brother. He was aware that his brother had behaved to him badly, +and he had determined not to be over courteous,—unless, indeed, he +should find his brother to be dangerously ill. But above all things +he would avoid all semblance of inquisitiveness which might seem to +have a reference to the condition of his own unborn child. He walked +up and down St. James' Park thinking of all this, looking up once at +the windows of the house which had brought so much trouble on him, +that house of his which had hardly been his own, but not caring to +knock at the door and enter it. He lunched in solitude at his club, +and exactly at three o'clock presented himself at Scumberg's door. +The Marquis's servant was soon with him, and then again he found +himself alone in that dreary sitting-room. How wretched must his<!-- Page 313 --> +brother be, living there from day to day without a friend, or, as far as +he was aware, without a companion!</p> + +<p>He was there full twenty minutes, walking about the room in exasperated +ill-humour, when at last the door was opened and his brother +was brought in between two men-servants. He was not actually +carried, but was so supported as to appear to be unable to walk. Lord +George asked some questions, but received no immediate answers. +The Marquis was at the moment thinking too much of himself and of +the men who were ministering to him to pay any attention to his +brother. Then by degrees he was fixed in his place, and after what +seemed to be interminable delay the two men went away. "Ugh!" +ejaculated the Marquis.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to see that you can at any rate leave your room," said +Lord George.</p> + +<p>"Then let me tell you that it takes deuced little to make you glad."</p> + +<p>The beginning was not auspicious, and further progress in conversation +seemed to be difficult. "They told me yesterday that Dr. Pullbody +was attending you."</p> + +<p>"He has this moment left me. I don't in the least believe in him. +Your London doctors are such conceited asses that you can't speak to +them? Because they can make more money than their brethren in +other countries they think that they know everything, and that nobody +else knows anything. It is just the same with the English in every +branch of life. The Archbishop of Canterbury is the greatest priest +going, because he has the greatest income, and the Lord Chancellor +the greatest lawyer. All you fellows here are flunkies from top to +bottom."</p> + +<p>Lord George certainly had not come up to town merely to hear the +great dignitaries of his country abused. But he was comforted somewhat +as he reflected that a dying man would hardly turn his mind to +such an occupation. When a sick man criticises his doctor severely +he is seldom in a very bad way. "Have you had anybody else with +you, Brotherton?"</p> + +<p>"One is quite enough. But I had another. A fellow named Bolton +was here, a baronet, I believe, who told me I ought to walk a mile in +Hyde Park every day. When I told him I couldn't he said I didn't +know till I tried. I handed him a five-pound note, upon which he +hauled out three pounds nineteen shillings change and walked off in +a huff. I didn't send for him any more."</p> + +<p>"Sir James Bolton has a great reputation."</p> + +<p>"No doubt. I daresay he could cut off my leg if I asked him, and +would then have handed out two pounds eighteen with the same indifference."</p> + +<p>"I suppose your back is better?"</p> + +<p>"No, it isn't,—not a bit. It gets worse and worse."</p> + +<p>"What does Dr. Pullbody say?"<!-- Page 314 --></p> + +<p>"Nothing that anybody can understand. By George! he takes +my money freely enough. He tells me to eat beefsteaks and drink +port-wine. I'd sooner die at once. I told him so, or something a +little stronger, I believe, and he almost jumped out of his shoes."</p> + +<p>"He doesn't think there is any——danger?"</p> + +<p>"He doesn't know anything about it. I wish I could have your +father-in-law in a room by ourselves, with a couple of loaded revolvers. +I'd make better work of it than he did."</p> + +<p>"God forbid!"</p> + +<p>"I daresay he won't give me the chance. He thinks he has done a +plucky thing because he's as strong as a brewer's horse. I call that +downright cowardice."</p> + +<p>"It depends on how it began, Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"Of course there had been words between us. Things always begin +in that way."</p> + +<p>"You must have driven him very hard."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to take his part? Because, if so, there may as +well be an end of it. I thought you had found him out and had +separated yourself from him. You can't think that he is a gentleman?"</p> + +<p>"He is a very liberal man."</p> + +<p>"You mean to sell yourself, then, for the money that was made in +his father's stables?"</p> + +<p>"I have not sold myself at all. I haven't spoken to him for the +last month."</p> + +<p>"So I understood; therefore I sent for you. You are all back at +Manor Cross now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—we are there."</p> + +<p>"You wrote me a letter which I didn't think quite the right thing. +But, however, I don't mind telling you that you can have the house +if we can come to terms about it."</p> + +<p>"What terms?"</p> + +<p>"You can have the house and the park, and Cross Hall Farm, too, +if you'll pledge yourself that the Dean shall never enter your house +again, and that you will never enter his house or speak to him. You +shall do pretty nearly as you please at Manor Cross. In that event I +shall live abroad, or here in London if I come to England. I think +that's a fair offer, and I don't suppose that you yourself can be very +fond of the man." Lord George sat perfectly silent while the Marquis +waited for a reply. "After what has passed," continued he, "you +can't suppose that I should choose that he should be entertained in my +dining-room."</p> + +<p>"You said the same about my wife before."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did; but a man may separate himself from his father-in-law +when he can't very readily get rid of his wife. I never saw your +wife."<!-- Page 315 --></p> + +<p>"No;—and therefore cannot know what she is."</p> + +<p>"I don't in the least want to know what she is. You and I, George, +haven't been very lucky in our marriages."</p> + +<p>"I have."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so? You see I speak more frankly of myself. But +I am not speaking of your wife. Your wife's father has been a blister +to me ever since I came back to this country, and you must make up +your mind whether you will take his part or mine. You know what +he did, and what he induced you to do about Popenjoy. You know the +reports that he has spread abroad. And you know what happened in +this room. I expect you to throw him off altogether." Lord George +had thrown the Dean off altogether. For reasons of his own he had +come to the conclusion that the less he had to do with the Dean the +better for himself; but he certainly could give no such pledge as this +now demanded from him. "You won't make me this promise?" said +the Marquis.</p> + +<p>"No; I can't do that."</p> + +<p>"Then you'll have to turn out of Manor Cross," said the Marquis, +smiling.</p> + +<p>"You do not mean that my mother must be turned out?"</p> + +<p>"You and my mother, I suppose, will live together?"</p> + +<p>"It does not follow. I will pay you rent for Cross Hall."</p> + +<p>"You shall do no such thing. I will not let Cross Hall to any +friend of the Dean's."</p> + +<p>"You cannot turn your mother out immediately after telling her to +go there?"</p> + +<p>"It will be you who turn her out,—not I. I have made you a very +liberal offer," said the Marquis.</p> + +<p>"I will have nothing to do with it," said Lord George. "In any +house in which I act as master I will be the judge who shall be entertained +and who not."</p> + +<p>"The first guests you will ask, no doubt, will be the Dean of Brotherton +and Captain De Baron." This was so unbearable that he at +once made a rush at the door. "You'll find, my friend," said the +Marquis, "that you'll have to get rid of the Dean and of the Dean's +daughter as well." Then Lord George swore to himself as he left the +room that he would never willingly be in his brother's company again.</p> + +<p>He was rushing down the stairs, thinking about his wife, swearing +to himself that all this was calumny, yet confessing to himself that +there must have been terrible indiscretion to make the calumny so +general, when he was met on the landing by Mrs. Walker in her best +silk gown. "Please, my lord, might I take the liberty of asking for +one word in my own room?" Lord George followed her and heard +the one word. "Please, my lord, what are we to do with the +Marquis?"</p> + +<p>"Do with him!"<!-- Page 316 --></p> + +<p>"About his going."</p> + +<p>"Why should he go? He pays his bills, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, my lord; the Marquis pays his bills. There ain't no +difficulty there, my lord. He's not quite himself."</p> + +<p>"You mean in health?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, my lord;—in health. He don't give himself,—not a chance. +He's out every night,—in his brougham."</p> + +<p>"I thought he was almost confined to his room?"</p> + +<p>"Out every night, my lord,—and that Courier with him on the +box. When we gave him to understand that all manner of people +couldn't be allowed to come here, we thought he'd go."</p> + +<p>"The Marchioness has gone?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes;—and the poor little boy. It was bad enough when they +was here, because things were so uncomfortable; but now——. I wish +something could be done, my lord." Lord George could only assure +her that it was out of his power to do anything. He had no control +over his brother, and did not even mean to come and see him again. +"Dearie me!" said Mrs. Walker; "he's a very owdacious nobleman, +I fear,—is the Marquis."</p> + +<p>All this was very bad. Lord George had learned, indeed, that the +Marchioness and Popenjoy were gone, and was able to surmise that +the parting had not been pleasant. His brother would probably soon +follow them. But what was he to do himself! He could not, in consequence +of such a warning, drag his mother and sisters back to Cross +Hall, into which house Mr. Price, the farmer, had already moved himself. +Nor could he very well leave his mother without explaining to +her why he did so. Would it be right that he should take such a +threat, uttered as that had been, as a notice to quit the house? He +certainly would not live in his brother's house in opposition to his +brother. But how was he to obey the orders of such a madman?</p> + +<p>When he reached Brotherton he went at once to the deanery and +was very glad to find his wife without her father. He did not as yet +wish to renew his friendly relations with the Dean, although he had +refused to pledge himself to a quarrel. He still thought it to be his +duty to take his wife away from her father, and to cause her to expiate +those calumnies as to De Baron by some ascetic mode of life. She +had been, since his last visit, in a state of nervous anxiety about the +Marquis. "How is he, George?" she asked at once.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how he is. I think he's mad."</p> + +<p>"Mad?"</p> + +<p>"He's leading a wretched life."</p> + +<p>"But his back? Is he;—is he—? I am afraid that papa is so unhappy +about it! He won't say anything, but I know he is unhappy."</p> + +<p>"You may tell your father from me that as far as I can judge his +illness, if he is ill, has nothing to do with that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, George, you have made me so happy."<!-- Page 317 --></p> + +<p>"I wish I could be happy myself. I sometimes think that we had +better go and live abroad."</p> + +<p>"Abroad! You and I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I suppose you would go with me?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I would. But your mother?"</p> + +<p>"I know there is all manner of trouble about it." He could not +tell her of his brother's threat about the house, nor could he, after +that threat, again bid her come to Manor Cross. As there was nothing +more to be said he soon left her, and went to the house which he had +again been forbidden to call his home.</p> + +<p>But he told his sister everything. "I was afraid," she said, "that +we should be wrong in coming here."</p> + +<p>"It is no use going back to that now."</p> + +<p>"Not the least. What ought we to do? It will break mamma's +heart to be turned out again."</p> + +<p>"I suppose we must ask Mr. Knox."</p> + +<p>"It is unreasonable;—monstrous! Mr. Price has got all his furniture +back again into the Hall! It is terrible that any man should have +so much power to do evil."</p> + +<p>"I could not pledge myself about the Dean, Sarah."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. Nothing could be more wicked than his asking +you. Of course, you will not tell mamma."</p> + +<p>"Not yet."</p> + +<p>"I should take no notice of it whatever. If he means to turn us +out of the house let him write to you, or send word by Mr. Knox. +Out every night in London! What does he do?" Lord George shook +his head. "I don't think he goes into society." Lord George could +only shake his head again. There are so many kinds of society! +"They said he was coming down to Mr. De Baron's in August."</p> + +<p>"I heard that too. I don't know whether he'll come now. To see +him brought in between two servants you'd think that he couldn't +move."</p> + +<p>"But they told you he goes out every night?"</p> + +<p>"I've no doubt that is true."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand it all," said Lady Sarah. "What is he to gain +by pretending. And so they used to quarrel."</p> + +<p>"I tell you what the woman told me."</p> + +<p>"I've no doubt it's true. And she has gone and taken Popenjoy? +Did he say anything about Popenjoy?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"It's quite possible that the Dean may have been right all through. +What terrible mischief a man may do when he throws all idea of duty +to the winds! If I were you, George, I should just go on as though +I had not seen him at all."</p> + +<p>That was the decision to which Lord George came, but in that he +was soon shaken by a letter which he received from Mr. Knox. "I<!-- Page 318 --> +think if you were to go up to London and see your brother it would +have a good effect," said Mr. Knox. In fact Mr. Knox's letter contained +little more than a petition that Lord George would pay another +visit to the Marquis. To this request, after consultation with his +sister, he gave a positive refusal.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +"<span class="smcap">My dear Mr. Knox</span>," he said, +</p> + +<p>"I saw my brother less than a week ago, and the meeting was so +unsatisfactory in every respect that I do not wish to repeat it. If he +has anything to say to me as to the occupation of the house he had +better say it through you. I think, however, that my brother should +be told that though I may be subject to his freaks, we cannot allow +that my mother should be annoyed by them.</p> + + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature2">"Faithfully yours,<br></span> +<span class="smcap presignature3">"George Germain."<br></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>At the end of another week Mr. Knox came in person. The Marquis +was willing that his mother should live at Manor Cross,—and his +sisters. But he had,—so he said,—been insulted by his brother, and +must insist that Lord George should leave the house. If this order were +not obeyed he should at once put the letting of the place into the +hands of a house agent. Then Mr. Knox went on to explain that he +was to take back to the Marquis a definite reply. "When people are +dependent on me I choose that they shall be dependent," the Marquis +had said.</p> + +<p>Now, after a prolonged consultation to which Lady Susanna was +admitted,—so serious was the thing to be considered,—it was found to +be necessary to explain the matter to the Marchioness. Some step +clearly must be taken. They must all go, or Lord George must go. +Cross Hall was occupied, and Mr. Price was going to be married on the +strength of his occupation. A lease had been executed to Mr. Price, +which the Dowager herself had been called upon to sign. "Mamma +will never be made to understand it," said Lady Susanna.</p> + +<p>"No one can understand it," said Lord George. Lord George +insisted that the ladies should continue to live at the large house, +insinuating that, for himself, he would take some wretched residence +in the most miserable corner of the globe, which he could find.</p> + +<p>The Marchioness was told and really fell into a very bad way. She +literally could not understand it, and aggravated matters by appearing +to think that her younger son had been wanting in respect to his elder +brother. And it was all that nasty Dean! And Mary must have +behaved very badly or Brotherton would not have been so severe! +"Mamma," said Lady Sarah, moved beyond her wont, "you ought +not to think such things. George has been true to you all his life, and +Mary has done nothing. It is all Brotherton's fault. When did he +ever behave well? If we are to be miserable, let us at any rate tell<!-- Page 319 --> +the truth about it." Then the Marchioness was put to bed and remained +there for two days.</p> + +<p>At last the Dean heard of it,—first through Lady Alice, and then +directly from Lady Sarah, who took the news to the deanery. Upon +which he wrote the following letter to his son-in-law;—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My dear George</span>,—I think your brother is not quite sane. I +never thought that he was. Since I have had the pleasure of knowing +you, especially since I have been connected with the family, he has +been the cause of all the troubles that have befallen it. It is to be +regretted that you should ever have moved back to Manor Cross, +because his temper is so uncertain, and his motives so unchristian!</p> + +<p>"I think I understand your position now, and will therefore not +refer to it further than to say, that when not in London I hope you will +make the deanery your home. You have your own house in town, +and when here will be close to your mother and sisters. Anything I +can do to make this a comfortable residence for you shall be done; and +it will surely go for something with you, that a compliance with this +request on your part will make another person the happiest woman +in the world.</p> + +<p>"In such an emergency as this am I not justified in saying that any +little causes of displeasure that may have existed between you and me +should now be forgotten? If you will think of them they really +amount to nothing. For you I have the esteem of a friend and the +affection of a father-in-law. A more devoted wife than my daughter +does not live. Be a man and come to us, and let us make much of +you.</p> + +<p>"She knows I am writing, and sends her love; but I have not told +her of the subject lest she should be wild with hope.</p> + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature2">"Affectionately yours,<br></span> +<span class="smcap presignature3">"Henry Lovelace."<br></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The letter as he read it moved him to tears, but when he had +finished the reading he told himself that it was impossible. There +was one phrase in the letter which went sorely against the grain with +him. The Dean told him to be a man. Did the Dean mean to imply +that his conduct hitherto had been unmanly?<!-- Page 320 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XLIX" id="CHAPTER_XLIX"></a>CHAPTER XLIX.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">"WOULDN'T YOU COME HERE—FOR A WEEK?"</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Lord George Germain</span> was very much troubled by the nobility of +the Dean's offer. He felt sure that he could not accept it, but he felt +at the same time that it would be almost as difficult to decline to accept +it. What else was he to do? where was he to go? how was he now +to exercise authority over his wife? With what face could he call upon +her to leave her father's house, when he had no house of his own to +which to take her? There was, no doubt, the house in London, but +that was her house, and peculiarly disagreeable to him. He might go +abroad; but then what would become of his mother and sisters? He +had trained himself to think that his presence was necessary to the very +existence of the family; and his mother, though she ill-treated him, +was quite of the same opinion. There would be a declaration of a +break up made to all the world if he were to take himself far away +from Manor Cross. In his difficulty, of course he consulted Lady +Sarah. What other counsellor was possible to him?</p> + +<p>He was very fair with his sister, trying to explain everything to her—everything, +with one or two exceptions. Of course he said nothing +of the Houghton correspondence, nor did he give exactly a true account +of the scene at Mrs. Montacute Jones' ball; but he succeeded in +making Lady Sarah understand that though he accused his wife of +nothing, he felt it to be incumbent on him to make her completely +subject to his own authority. "No doubt she was wrong to waltz +after what you told her," said Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>"Very wrong."</p> + +<p>"But it was simply high spirits, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"I don't think she understands how circumspect a young married +woman ought to be," said the anxious husband. "She does not see +how very much such high spirits may injure me. It enables an enemy +to say such terrible things."</p> + +<p>"Why should she have an enemy, George?" Then Lord George +merely whispered his brother's name. "Why should Brotherton care +to be her enemy?"</p> + +<p>"Because of the Dean."</p> + +<p>"She should not suffer for that. Of course, George, Mary and I are +very different. She is young and I am old. She has been brought up +to the pleasures of life, which I disregard, perhaps because they never +came in my way. She is beautiful and soft,—a woman such as men +like to have near them. I never was such a one. I see the perils and +pitfalls in her way; but I fancy that I am prone to exaggerate them, +because I cannot sympathise with her yearnings. I often condemn her<!-- Page 321 --> +frivolity, but at the same time I condemn my own severity. I think +she is true of heart,—a loving woman. And she is at any rate your +wife."</p> + +<p>"You don't suppose that I wish to be rid of her?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not; but in keeping her close to you you must remember +that she has a nature of her own. She cannot feel as you do in all +things any more than you feel as she does."</p> + +<p>"One must give way to the other."</p> + +<p>"Each must give way to the other if there is to be any happiness."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say she ought to waltz, or dance stage dances?"</p> + +<p>"Let all that go for the present. She won't want to dance much +for a time now, and when she has a baby in her arms she will be more +apt to look at things with your eyes. If I were you I should accept +the Dean's offer."</p> + +<p>There was a certain amount of comfort in this, but there was more +pain. His wife had defied him, and it was necessary to his dignity +that she should be brought to submission before she was received into +his full grace. And the Dean had encouraged her in those acts of +defiance. They had, of course, come from him. She had been more +her father's daughter than her husband's wife, and his pride could not +endure that it should be so. Everything had gone against him. +Hitherto he had been able to desire her to leave her father and to +join him in his own home. Now he had no home to which to take her. +He had endeavoured to do his duty,—always excepting that disagreeable +episode with Mrs. Houghton,—and this was the fruit of it. He had +tried to serve his brother, because his brother was Marquis of Brotherton, +and his brother had used him like an enemy. His mother treated +him, with steady injustice. And now his sister told him that he was +to yield to the Dean! He could not bring himself to yield to the +Dean. At last he answered the Dean's letter as follows;—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p> +"<span class="smcap">My dear Dean</span>,— +</p> + +<p style="text-indent: 2em;">"Your offer is very kind, but I do not think that I can +accept it just at present. No doubt I am very much troubled by my +brother's conduct. I have endeavoured to do my duty by him, and +have met with but a poor return. What arrangements I shall ultimately +make as to a home for myself and Mary, I cannot yet say. +When anything is settled I shall, of course, let her know at once. It +will always be, at any rate, one of my chief objects to make her comfortable, +but I think that this should be done under my roof and not +under yours. I hope to be able to see her in a day or two, when +perhaps I shall have been able to settle upon something.</p> + + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature2">"Yours always affectionately,<br></span> +<span class="smcap presignature3">"G. Germain."<br></span> +</div> +</div> + + +<p>Then, upon reading this over and feeling that it was cold and almost<!-- Page 322 --> +heartless, he added a postscript. "I do feel your offer to be very +generous, but I think you will understand the reasons which make it +impossible that I should accept it." The Dean as he read this declared +to himself that he knew the reasons very well. The reasons were not +far to search. The man was pigheaded, foolish, and obstinately proud. +So the Dean thought. As far as he himself was concerned Lord +George's presence in the house would not be a comfort to him. Lord +George had never been a pleasant companion to him. But he would +have put up with worse than Lord George for the sake of his daughter.</p> + +<p>On the very next day Lord George rode into Brotherton and went +direct to the deanery. Having left his horse at the inn he met the +Dean in the Close, coming out of a side door of the Cathedral close to +the deanery gate. "I thought I would come in to see Mary," he said.</p> + +<p>"Mary will be delighted."</p> + +<p>"I did not believe that I should be able to come so soon when I +wrote yesterday."</p> + +<p>"I hope you are going to tell her that you have thought better of my +little plan."</p> + +<p>"Well;—no; I don't think I can do that. I think she must come +to me first, sir."</p> + +<p>"But where!"</p> + +<p>"I have not yet quite made up my mind. Of course there is a +difficulty. My brother's conduct has been so very strange."</p> + +<p>"Your brother is a madman, George."</p> + +<p>"It is very easy to say so, but that does not make it any better. +Though he be ever so mad the house is his own. If he chooses to turn +me out of it he can. I have told Mr. Knox that I would leave it +within a month,—for my mother's sake; but that as I had gone there at +his express instance, I could not move sooner. I think I was justified +in that."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why you should go at all."</p> + +<p>"He would let the place."</p> + +<p>"Or, if you do go, why you should not come here. But, of course, +you know your own business best. How d'ye do, Mr. Groschut? I +hope the Bishop is better this morning."</p> + +<p>At this moment, just as they were entering the deanery gate, the +Bishop's chaplain had appeared. He had been very studious in spreading +a report, which he had no doubt believed to be true, that all the +Germain family, including Lord George, had altogether repudiated +the Dean, whose daughter, according to his story, was left upon her +father's hands because she would not be received at Manor Cross. For +Mr. Groschut had also heard of Jack De Baron, and had been cut to +the soul by the wickedness of the Kappa-kappa. The general iniquity +of Mary's life in London had been heavy on him. Brotherton, upon +the whole, had pardoned the Dean for knocking the Marquis into the +fireplace, having heard something of the true story with more or less<!-- Page 323 --> +correctness. But the Chaplain's morals were sterner than those of +Brotherton at large, and he was still of opinion that the Dean was a +child of wrath, and poor Mary, therefore, a grandchild. Now, when +he saw the Dean and his son-in-law apparently on friendly terms, the +spirit of righteousness was vexed within him as he acknowledged this +to be another sign that the Dean was escaping from that punishment +which alone could be of service to him in this world. "His Lordship +is better this morning. I hope, my Lord, I have the pleasure of +seeing your Lordship quite well." Then Mr. Groschut passed on.</p> + +<p>"I'm not quite sure," said the Dean, as he opened his own door, +"whether any good is ever done by converting a Jew."</p> + +<p>"But St. Paul was a converted Jew," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"Well—yes; in those early days Christians were only to be had by +converting Jews or Pagans; and in those days they did actually become +Christians. But the Groschuts are a mistake." Then he called +to Mary, and in a few minutes she was in her husband's arms on the +staircase. The Dean did not follow them, but went into his own room +on the ground floor; and Lord George did not see him again on that +day.</p> + +<p>Lord George remained with his wife nearly all the afternoon, going +out with her into the town as she did some little shopping, and being +seen with her in the market-place and Close. It must be owned of +Mary that she was proud thus to be seen with him again, and that in +buying her ribbons and gloves she referred to him, smiling as he said +this, and pouting and pretending to differ as he said that, with greater +urgency than she would have done had there been no breach between +them. It had been terrible to her to think that there should be a +quarrel,—terrible to her that the world should think so. There was a +gratification to her in feeling that even the shopkeepers should see her +and her husband together. And when she met Canon Pountner and +stopped a moment in the street while that worthy divine shook hands +with her husband, that was an additional pleasure to her. The last +few weeks had been heavy to her in spite of her father's affectionate +care,—heavy with a feeling of disgrace from which no well-minded +young married woman can quite escape, when she is separated from +her husband. She had endeavoured to do right. She thought she +was doing right. But it was so sad! She was fond of pleasure, +whereas he was little given to any amusement; but no pleasures could +be pleasant to her now unless they were in some sort countenanced by +him. She had never said such a word to a human being, but since +that dancing of the Kappa-kappa she had sworn to herself a thousand +times that she would never waltz again. And she hourly yearned for +his company, having quite got over that first difficulty of her married +life, that doubt whether she could ever learn to love her husband. +During much of this day she was actually happy in spite of the great +sorrow which still weighed so heavily upon them both.<!-- Page 324 --></p> + +<p>And he liked it also in his way. He thought that he had never +seen her looking more lovely. He was sure that she had never +been more gracious to him. The touch of her hand was pleasant to +his arm, and even he had sufficient spirit of fun about him to enjoy +something of the mirth of her little grimaces. When he told her +what her father had said about Mr. Groschut, even he laughed at her +face of assumed disgust. "Papa doesn't hate him half as much as I +do," she said. "Papa always does forgive at last, but I never can +forgive Mr. Groschut."</p> + +<p>"What has the poor man done?"</p> + +<p>"He is so nasty! Don't you see that his face always shines. Any +man with a shiny face ought to be hated." This was very well to give +as a reason, but Mary entertained a very correct idea as to Mr. Groschut's +opinion of herself.</p> + +<p>Not a word had been said between the husband and wife as to the +great question of residence till they had returned to the deanery after +their walk. Then Lord George found himself unable to conceal +from her the offer which the Dean had made. "Oh, George,—why +don't you come?"</p> + +<p>"It would not be—fitting."</p> + +<p>"Fitting! Why not fitting? I think it would fit admirably. I +know it would fit me." Then she leaned over him and took his hand +and kissed it.</p> + +<p>"It was very good of your father."</p> + +<p>"I am sure he meant to be good."</p> + +<p>"It was very good of your father," Lord George repeated,—"very +good indeed; but it cannot be. A married woman should live in her +husband's house and not in her father's."</p> + +<p>Mary gazed into his face with a perplexed look, not quite understanding +the whole question, but still with a clear idea as to a part of +it. All that might be very true, but if a husband didn't happen to +have a house then might not the wife's father's house be a convenience? +They had indeed a house, provided no doubt with her money, +but not the less now belonging to her husband, in which she would be +very willing to live if he pleased it,—the house in Munster Court. It +was her husband that made objection to their own house. It was her +husband who wished to live near Manor Cross, not having a roof of +his own under which to do so. Were not these circumstances which +ought to have made the deanery a convenience to him? "Then what +will you do?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I cannot say as yet." He had become again gloomy and black-browed.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you come here—for a week?"</p> + +<p>"I think not, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Not when you know how happy it would make me to have you +with me once again. I do so long to be telling you everything." Then<!-- Page 325 --> +she leant against him and embraced him, and implored him to grant +her this favour. But he would not yield. He had told himself that +the Dean had interfered between him and his wife, and that he must +at any rate go through the ceremony of taking his wife away from her +father. Let it be accorded to him that he had done that, and then +perhaps he might visit the deanery. As for her, she would have gone +with him anywhere now, having fully established her right to visit her +father after leaving London.</p> + +<p>There was nothing further settled, and very little more said, when +Lord George left the deanery and started back to Manor Cross. But +with Mary there had been left a certain comfort. The shopkeepers +and Dr. Pountner had seen her with her husband, and Mr. Groschut +had met Lord George at the deanery door.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_L" id="CHAPTER_L"></a>CHAPTER L.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">RUDHAM PARK.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Lord George</span> had undertaken to leave Manor Cross by the middle +of August, but when the first week of that month had passed away he +had not as yet made up his mind what he would do with himself. Mr. +Knox had told him that should he remain with his mother the Marquis +would not, as Mr. Knox thought, take further notice of the matter; +but on such terms as these he could not consent to live in his brother's +house.</p> + +<p>On a certain day early in August Lord George had gone with a return +ticket to a town but a few miles distant from Brotherton to sit on a +committee for the distribution of coals and blankets, and in the afternoon +got into a railway carriage on his way home. How great was +his consternation when, on taking his seat, he found that his brother +was seated alongside of him! There was one other old gentleman in +the carriage, and the three passengers were all facing the engine. On +two of the seats opposite were spread out the Marquis's travelling +paraphernalia,—his French novel, at which he had not looked, his +dressing bag, the box in which his luncheon had been packed, and his +wine flask. There was a small basket of strawberries, should he be +inclined to eat fruit, and an early peach out of a hothouse, with some +flowers. "God Almighty, George;—is that you?" he said. "Where +the devil have you been?"</p> + +<p>"I've been to Grumby."</p> + +<p>"And what are the people doing at Grumby?"</p> + +<p>"Much the same as usual. It was the coal and blanket account."</p> + +<p>"Oh!—the coal and blanket account! I hope you liked it." Then<!-- Page 326 --> +he folded himself afresh in his cloaks, ate a strawberry, and looked as +though he had taken sufficient notice of his brother.</p> + +<p>But the matter was very important to Lord George. Nothing ever +seemed to be of importance to the Marquis. It might be very +probable that the Marquis, with half-a-dozen servants behind him, +should drive up to the door at Manor Cross without having given an +hour's notice of his intention. It seemed to be too probable to Lord +George that such would be the case now. For what other reason could +he be there? And then there was his back. Though they had quarrelled +he was bound to ask after his brother's back. When last they +two had met, the Marquis had been almost carried into the room by +two men. "I hope you find yourself better than when I last saw +you," he said, after a pause of five minutes.</p> + +<p>"I've not much to boast of. I can just travel, and that's all."</p> + +<p>"And how is—Popenjoy?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my word I can't tell you. He has never seemed to be very +well when I've seen him."</p> + +<p>"I hope the accounts have been better," said Lord George, with +solicitude.</p> + +<p>"Coal and blanket accounts!" suggested the Marquis. And then +the conversation was again brought to an end for five minutes.</p> + +<p>But it was essential that Lord George should know whither his +brother was going. If to Manor Cross, then, thought Lord George, +he himself would stay at an inn at Brotherton. Anything, even the +deanery, would be better than sitting at table with his brother, with +the insults of their last interview unappeased. At the end of five +minutes he plucked up his courage, and asked his brother another +question. "Are you going to the house, Brotherton?"</p> + +<p>"The house! What house? I'm going to a house, I hope."</p> + +<p>"I mean to Manor Cross."</p> + +<p>"Not if I know it. There is no house in this part of the country +in which I should be less likely to show my face." Then there was +not another word said till they reached the Brotherton Station, and +there the Marquis, who was sitting next the door, requested his +brother to leave the carriage first. "Get out, will you?" he said. +"I must wait for somebody to come and take these things. And don't +trample on me more than you can help." This last request had apparently +been made, because Lord George was unable to step across him +without treading on the cloak.</p> + +<p>"I will say good-bye, then," said Lord George, turning round on +the platform for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Ta, ta," said the Marquis, as he gave his attention to the servant +who was collecting the fruit, and the flowers, and the flask. Lord +George then passed on out of the station, and saw no more of his +brother.</p> + +<p>"Of course he is going to Rudham," said Lady Susanna, when she<!-- Page 327 --> +heard the story. Rudham Park was the seat of Mr. De Baron, Mrs. +Houghton's father, and tidings had reached Manor Cross long since +that the Marquis had promised to go there in the autumn. No doubt +other circumstances had seemed to make it improbable that the +promise should be kept. Popenjoy had gone away ill,—as many said, +in a dying condition. Then the Marquis had been thrown into a fireplace, +and report had said that his back had been all but broken. It +had certainly been generally thought that the Marquis would go +nowhere after that affair in the fireplace, till he returned to Italy. +But Lady Susanna was, in truth, right. His Lordship was on his way +to Rudham Park.</p> + +<p>Mr. De Baron, of Rudham Park, though a much older man than the +Marquis, had been the Marquis's friend,—when the Marquis came of age, +being then the Popenjoy of those days and a fast young man known as +such about England. Mr. De Baron, who was a neighbour, had taken +him by the hand. Mr. De Baron had put him in the way of buying and +training race-horses, and had, perhaps, been godfather to his pleasures +in other matters. Rudham Park had never been loved at Manor +Cross by others than the present Lord, and for that reason, perhaps, +was dearer to him. He had promised to go there soon after his return +to England, and was now keeping his promise. On his arrival there +the Marquis found a houseful of people. There were Mr. and Mrs. +Houghton, and Lord Giblet, who, having engaged himself rashly to +Miss Patmore Green, had rushed out of town sooner than usual that +he might devise in retirement some means of escaping from his position; +and, to Lord Giblet's horror, there was Mrs. Montacute Jones, who, +he well knew, would, if possible, keep him to the collar. There was +also Aunt Julia, with her niece Guss, and of course, there was Jack +De Baron. The Marquis was rather glad to meet Jack, as to whom +he had some hope that he might be induced to run away with Lord +George's wife, and thus free the Germain family from that little +annoyance. But the guest who surprised the Marquis the most, was +the Baroness Banmann, whose name and occupation he did not at first +learn very distinctly.</p> + +<p>"All right again, my lord?" asked Mr. De Baron, as he welcomed +his noble guest.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word I'm not, then. That coal-heaving brute of a +parson pretty nearly did for me."</p> + +<p>"A terrible outrage it was."</p> + +<p>"Outrage! I should think so. There's nothing so bad as a clerical +bully. What was I to do with him? Of course he was the stronger. +I don't pretend to be a Samson. One doesn't expect that kind of +thing among gentlemen?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could have him somewhere with a pair of foils with the +buttons off. His black coat shouldn't save his intestines. I don't<!-- Page 328 --> +know what the devil the country is come to, when such a fellow as +that is admitted into people's houses."</p> + +<p>"You won't meet him here, Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"I wish I might. I think I'd manage to be even with him before +he got away. Who's the Baroness you have got?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know much about her. My daughter Adelaide,—Mrs. +Houghton, you know,—has brought her down. There's been some +row among the women up in London. This is one of the prophets, +and I think she is brought here to spite Lady Selina Protest who has +taken an American prophetess by the hand. She won't annoy you, I +hope?"</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. I like strange wild beasts. And so that is +Captain De Baron, of whom I have heard?"</p> + +<p>"That is my nephew, Jack. He has a small fortune of his own, +which he is spending fast. As long as it lasts one has to be civil to +him."</p> + +<p>"I am delighted to meet him. Don't they say he is sweet on a +certain young woman?"</p> + +<p>"A dozen, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Ah,—but one I know something of."</p> + +<p>"I don't think there is anything in that, Brotherton;—I don't, +indeed, or I shouldn't have brought him here."</p> + +<p>"I do, though. And as to not bringing him here, why shouldn't +you bring him? If she don't go off with him, she will with somebody +else, and the sooner the better, according to my ideas." This was a +matter upon which Mr. De Baron was not prepared to dilate, and he +therefore changed the subject.</p> + +<p>"My dear Lord Giblet, it is such a pleasure to me to meet you +here," old Mrs. Jones said to that young nobleman. "When I was +told you were to be at Rudham, it determined me at once." This +was true, for there was no more persistent friend living than old Mrs. +Jones, though it might be doubted whether, on this occasion, Lord +Giblet was the friend on whose behalf she had come to Rudham.</p> + +<p>"It's very nice, isn't it?" said Lord Giblet, gasping.</p> + +<p>"Hadn't we a pleasant time of it with our little parties in Grosvenor +Place?"</p> + +<p>"Never liked anything so much in life; only I don't think that +fellow Jack De Baron, dances so much better than other people, after +all?"</p> + +<p>"Who says he does? But I'll tell you who dances well. Olivia +Green was charming in the Kappa-kappa. Don't you think +so?"</p> + +<p>"Uncommon pretty." Lord Giblet was quite willing to be understood +to admire Miss Patmore Green, though he thought it hard that +people should hurry him on into matrimony.</p> + +<p>"The most graceful girl I ever saw in my life, certainly," said Mrs.<!-- Page 329 --> +Montacute Jones. "His Royal Highness, when he heard of the engagement, +said that you were the happiest man in London."</p> + +<p>Lord Giblet could not satisfy himself by declaring that H.R.H. +was an old fool, as poor Mary had done on a certain occasion,—but at +the present moment he did not feel at all loyal to the Royal Family +generally. Nor did he, in the least, know how to answer Mrs. Jones. +She had declared the engagement as a fact, and he did not quite +dare to deny it altogether. He had, in an unguarded moment, when +the weather had been warm and the champagne cool, said a word with +so definite a meaning that the lady had been justified in not allowing +it to pass by as idle. The lady had accepted him, and on the following +morning he had found the lock of hair and the little stud which she +had given him, and had feverish reminiscences of a kiss. But surely +he was not a bird to be caught with so small a grain of salt as that! +He had not as yet seen Mr. Patmore Green, having escaped from +London at once. He had answered a note from Olivia, which had +called him "dearest Charlie" by a counter note, in which he had +called her "dear O," and had signed himself "ever yours, G," +promising to meet her up the river. But of course he had not gone +up the river! The rest of the season might certainly be done +without assistance from him. He knew that he would be pursued. +He could not hope not to be pursued. But he had not thought that +Mrs. Montacute Jones would be so quick upon him. It was impossible +that H.R.H should have heard of any engagement as yet. +What a nasty, false, wicked old woman she was! He blushed, red as +a rose, and stammered out that he "didn't know." He was only four-and-twenty, +and perhaps he didn't know.</p> + +<p>"I never saw a girl so much in love in my life," continued Mrs. +Jones. "I know her just as well as if she were my own, and she +speaks to me as she doesn't dare to speak to you at present. Though +she is barely twenty-one, she has been very much sought after already, +and the very day she marries she has ten thousand pounds in her +own hands. That isn't a large fortune, and of course you don't want a +large fortune, but it isn't every girl can pay such a sum straight into +her husband's bank the moment she marries!"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," said Lord Giblet. He was still determined that +nothing should induce him to marry Miss Green; but nevertheless, +behind that resolution there was a feeling, that if anything should +bring about the marriage, such a sum of ready money would be a consolation. +His father, the Earl of Jopling, though a very rich man, +kept him a little close, and ten thousand pounds would be nice. But +then, perhaps the old woman was lying.</p> + +<p>"Now I'll tell you what I want you to do," said Mrs. Jones, who was +resolved that if the game were not landed it should not be her fault. +"We go from here to Killancodlem next week. You must come and +join us."<!-- Page 330 --></p> + +<p>"I've got to go and grouse at Stranbracket's," said Lord Giblet, happy +in an excuse.</p> + +<p>"It couldn't be better. They're both within eight miles of Dunkeld." +If so, then ropes shouldn't take him to Stranbracket's that +year. "Of course you'll come. It's the prettiest place in Perth, +though I say it, as oughtn't. And she will be there. If you really +want to know a girl, see her in a country house."</p> + +<p>But he didn't really want to know the girl. She was very nice, and +he liked her uncommonly, but he didn't want to know anything more +about her. By George! Was a man to be persecuted this way, because +he had once spooned a girl a little too fiercely? As he thought of this +he almost plucked up his courage sufficiently to tell Mrs. Jones that +she had better pick out some other young man for deportation to Killancodlem. +"I should like it ever so," he said.</p> + +<p>"I'll take care that you shall like it, Lord Giblet. I think I may +boast that when I put my wits to work I can make my house agreeable. +I'm very fond of young people, but there's no one I love as I do +Olivia Green. There isn't a young woman in London has so much to +be loved for. Of course you'll come. What day shall we name?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I could name a day."</p> + +<p>"Let us say the 27th. That will give you nearly a week at the +grouse first. Be with us to dinner on the 27th."</p> + +<p>"Well,—perhaps I will."</p> + +<p>"Of course you will. I shall write to Olivia to-night, and I daresay +you will do so also."</p> + +<p>Lord Giblet, when he was let to go, tried to suck consolation from +the £10,000. Though he was still resolved, he almost believed that +Mrs. Montacute Jones would conquer him. Write to Olivia to-night! +Lying, false old woman! Of course she knew that there was hardly +a lady in England to whom it was so little likely that he should write +as to Miss Patmore Green. How could an old woman, with one foot +in the grave, be so wicked? And why should she persecute him? +What had he done to her? Olivia Green was not her daughter, or +even her niece. "So you are going to Killancodlem?" Mrs. Houghton +said to him that afternoon.</p> + +<p>"She has asked me," said Lord Giblet.</p> + +<p>"It's simply the most comfortable house in all Scotland, and they +tell me some of the best deer-stalking. Everybody likes to get to +Killancodlem. Don't you love old Mrs. Jones?"</p> + +<p>"Charming old woman!"</p> + +<p>"And such a friend! If she once takes to you she never drops +you."</p> + +<p>"Sticks like wax, I should say."</p> + +<p>"Quite like wax, Lord Giblet. And when she makes up her mind +to do a thing she always does it. It's quite wonderful; but she never +gets beaten."<!-- Page 331 --></p> + +<p>"Doesn't she now?"</p> + +<p>"Never. She hasn't asked us to Killancodlem yet, but I hope she +will." A manly resolution now roused itself in Lord Giblet's bosom +that he would be the person to beat Mrs. Jones at last. But yet he +doubted. If he were asked the question by anyone having a right +to ask he could not deny that he had proposed to marry Miss Patmore +Green.</p> + +<p>"So you've come down to singe your wings again?" said Mrs. +Houghton to her cousin Jack.</p> + +<p>"My wings have been burned clean away already, and, in point of +fact, I am not half so near to Lady George here as I was in London."</p> + +<p>"It's only ten miles."</p> + +<p>"If it were five it would be the same. We're not in the same +set down in Barsetshire."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you can have yourself taken to Brotherton if you +please?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—I can call at the deanery; but I shouldn't know what to say +when I got there."</p> + +<p>"You've become very mealy-mouthed of a sudden."</p> + +<p>"Not with you, my sweet cousin. With you I can discuss the devil +and all his works as freely as ever; but with Lady George, at her +father's house, I think I should be dumb. In truth, I haven't got anything +to say to her."</p> + +<p>"I thought you had."</p> + +<p>"I know you think so; but I haven't. It is quite on the card that +I may ride over some day, as I would to see my sister."</p> + +<p>"Your sister!"</p> + +<p>"And that I shall make eager enquiries after her horse, her pet dog, +and her husband."</p> + +<p>"You will be wrong there, for she has quarrelled with her husband +altogether."</p> + +<p>"I hope not."</p> + +<p>"They are not living together, and never even see each other. +He's at Manor Cross, and she's at the deanery. She's a divinity to +you, but Lord George seems to have found her so human that he's +tired of her already."</p> + +<p>"Then it must be his own fault."</p> + +<p>"Or perhaps yours, Jack. You don't suppose a husband goes +through a little scene like that at Mrs. Jones' without feeling it?"</p> + +<p>"He made an ass of himself, and a man generally feels that afterwards," +said Jack.</p> + +<p>"The truth is, they're tired of each other. There isn't very much +in Lord George, but there is something. He is slow, but there is a +certain manliness at the bottom of it. But there isn't very much in her!"</p> + +<p>"That's all you know about it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you may know her better, but I never could find any<!-- Page 332 -->thing. +You confess to being in love, and of course a lover is blind. +But where you are most wrong is in supposing that she is something so +much better than other women. She flirted with you so frankly that +she made you think her a goddess."</p> + +<p>"She never flirted with me in her life."</p> + +<p>"Exactly;—because flirting is bad, and she being a goddess cannot +do evil. I wish you'd take her in your arms and kiss her."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't dare."</p> + +<p>"No;—and therefore you're not in the way to learn that she's a +woman just the same as other women. Will Mrs. Jones succeed with +that stupid young man?"</p> + +<p>"With Giblet? I hope so. It can't make any difference to him +whether it's this one or another, and I do like Mrs. Jones."</p> + +<p>"Would they let me have just a little lecture in the dining-room?" +asked the Baroness of her friend, Aunt Ju. There had been certain +changes among the Disabilities up in London. Lady Selina Protest +had taken Dr. Olivia Q. Fleabody altogether by the hand, and had appointed +her chief professor at the Institute, perhaps without sufficient +authority. Aunt Ju had been cast into the shade, and had consequently +been driven to throw herself into the arms of the Baroness. +At present there was a terrible feud in which Aunt Ju was being much +worsted. For the Baroness was an old Man of the Sea, and having +got herself on to Aunt Ju's shoulders could not be shaken off. In the +meantime Dr. Fleabody was filling the Institute, reaping a golden harvest, +and breaking the heart of the poor Baroness, who had fallen into +much trouble and was now altogether penniless.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid not," said Aunt Ju. "I'm afraid we can't do that."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps de Marquis would like it?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly think so."</p> + +<p>"He did say a word to me, and I tink he would like it. He vant +to understand."</p> + +<p>"My dear Baroness, I'm sure the Marquis of Brotherton does not +care about it in the least. He is quite in the dark on such subjects—quite +benighted." What was the use, thought the Baroness, of bringing +her down to a house in which people were so benighted that she +could not be allowed to open her mouth or carry on her profession. +Had she not been enticed over from her own country in order that she +might open her mouth, and preach her doctrine, and become a great +and a wealthy woman? There was a fraud in this enforced silence +which cut her to the very quick. "I tink I shall try," she said, +separating herself in her wrath from her friend.<!-- Page 333 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LI" id="CHAPTER_LI"></a>CHAPTER LI.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">GUSS MILDMAY'S SUCCESS.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> treatment which the Marquis received at Rudham did not +certainly imply any feeling that he had disgraced himself by what he +had done either at Manor Cross or up in London. Perhaps the ladies +there did not know as much of his habits as did Mrs. Walker at Scumberg's. +Perhaps the feeling was strong that Popenjoy was Popenjoy, +and that therefore the Marquis had been injured. If a child be born +in British purple,—true purple, though it may have been stained by +circumstances,—that purple is very sacred. Perhaps it was thought +that under no circumstances should a Marquis be knocked into the fireplace +by a clergyman. There was still a good deal of mystery, both as +to Popenjoy and as to the fireplace, and the Marquis was the hero of +these mysteries. Everyone at Rudham was anxious to sit by his +side and to be allowed to talk to him. When he abused the Dean, +which he did freely, those who heard him assented to all he said. The +Baroness Banmann held up her hands in horror when she heard the +tale, and declared the Church to be one grand bêtise. Mrs. Houghton, +who was very attentive to the Marquis and whom the Marquis +liked, was pertinacious in her enquiries after Popenjoy, and cruelly +sarcastic upon the Dean. "Think what was his bringing up," said +Mrs. Houghton.</p> + +<p>"In a stable," said the Marquis.</p> + +<p>"I always felt it to be a great pity that Lord George should have +made that match;—not but what she is a good creature in her way."</p> + +<p>"She is no better than she should be," said the Marquis. Then +Mrs. Houghton found herself able to insinuate that perhaps, after all, +Mary was not a good creature, even in her own way. But the Marquis's +chief friend was Jack De Baron. He talked to Jack about races and +billiards, and women; but though he did not refrain from abusing the +Dean, he said no word to Jack against Mary. If it might be that the +Dean should receive his punishment in that direction he would do +nothing to prevent it. "They tell me she's a beautiful woman. I +have never seen her myself," said the Marquis.</p> + +<p>"She is very beautiful," said Jack.</p> + +<p>"Why the devil she should have married George, I can't think. She +doesn't care for him the least."</p> + +<p>"Don't you think she does?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure she don't. I suppose her pestilent father thought it was +the nearest way to a coronet. I don't know why men should marry at +all. They always get into trouble by it."<!-- Page 334 --></p> + +<p>"Somebody must have children," suggested Jack.</p> + +<p>"I don't see the necessity. It's nothing to me what comes of the +property after I'm gone. What is it, Madam?" They were sitting +out on the lawn after lunch and Jack and the Marquis were both +smoking. As they were talking the Baroness had come up to them +and made her little proposition. "What! a lecture! If Mr. De +Baron pleases, of course. I never listen to lectures myself,—except +from my wife."</p> + +<p>"Ah! dat is vat I vant to prevent."</p> + +<p>"I have prevented it already by sending her to Italy. Oh, rights +of women! Very interesting; but I don't think I'm well enough myself. +Here is Captain De Baron, a young man as strong as a horse, +and very fond of women. He'll sit it out."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon; what is it?" Then the Baroness, with rapid +words, told her own sad story. She had been deluded, defrauded, +and ruined by those wicked females, Lady Selina Protest and Dr. +Fleabody. The Marquis was a nobleman whom all England, nay, all +Europe, delighted to honour. Could not the Marquis do something +for her? She was rapid and eloquent, but not always intelligible. +"What is it she wants?" asked the Marquis, turning to Jack.</p> + +<p>"Pecuniary assistance, I think, my <a name="tn_pg_343"></a><!-- TN: comma changed to period-->Lord."</p> + +<p>"Yah, yah. I have been bamboozled of everything, my Lord +Marquis."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my G—, De Baron shouldn't have let me in for this. Would +you mind telling my fellow to give her a ten-pound note?" Jack said +that he would not mind; and the Baroness stuck to him pertinaciously, +not leaving his side a moment till she had got the money. Of course +there was no lecture. The Baroness was made to understand that +visitors at a country house in England could not be made to endure +such an infliction; but she succeeded in levying a contribution from +Mrs. Montacute Jones, and there were rumours afloat that she got a +sovereign out of Mr. Houghton.</p> + +<p>Lord Giblet had come with the intention of staying a week, but, the +day after the attack made upon him by Mrs. Montacute Jones, news +arrived which made it absolutely necessary that he should go to Castle +Gossling at once. "We shall be so sorry to miss you," said Mrs. +Montacute Jones, whom he tried to avoid in making his general adieux, +but who was a great deal too clever not to catch him.</p> + +<p>"My father wants to see me about the property, you know."</p> + +<p>"Of course. There must be a great deal to do between you." Everybody +who knew the affairs of the family was aware that the old Earl +never thought of consulting his son; and Mrs. Montacute Jones knew +everything.</p> + +<p>"Ever so much; therefore I must be off at once. My fellow is +packing my things now; and there is a train in an hour's time."</p> + +<p>"Did you hear from Olivia this morning?"<!-- Page 335 --></p> + +<p>"Not to-day."</p> + +<p>"I hope you are as proud as you ought to be of having such a sweet +girl belonging to you." Nasty old woman! What right had she to say +these things? "I told Mrs. Green that you were here, and that you +were coming to meet Olivia on the 27th."</p> + +<p>"What did she say?"</p> + +<p>"She thinks you ought to see Mr. Green as you go through London. +He is the easiest, most good-natured man in the world. Don't you +think you might as well speak to him?" Who was Mrs. Montacute +Jones that she should talk to him in this way? "I would send a +telegram if I were you, to say I would be there to-night."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it would be best," said Lord Giblet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly. Now mind, we expect you to dinner on the 27th. +Is there anybody else you'd specially like me to ask?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody in particular, thank ye."</p> + +<p>"Isn't Jack De Baron a friend of yours?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—I like Jack pretty well. He thinks a great deal of himself, +you know."</p> + +<p>"All the young men do that now. At any rate I'll ask Jack to meet +you." Unfortunately for Lord Giblet Jack appeared in sight at this +very moment. "Captain De Baron, Lord Giblet has been good enough +to say that he'll come to my little place at Killancodlem on the 27th. +Can you meet him there?"</p> + +<p>"Delighted, Mrs. Jones. Who ever refuses to go to Killancodlem?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't Killancodlem and its little comforts that are bringing his +lordship. We shall be delighted to see him; but he is coming to +see——. Well I suppose it's no secret now, Lord Giblet?" Jack +bowed his congratulations, and Lord Giblet again blushed as red as +a rose.</p> + +<p>Detestable old woman! Whither should he take himself? In +what furthest part of the Rocky Mountains should he spend the +coming autumn? If neither Mr. nor Mrs. Green called upon him +for an explanation, what possible right could this abominable old +harpy have to prey upon him? Just at the end of a cotillon he had +said one word! He knew men who had done ten times as much and +had not been as severely handled. And he was sure that Jack De +Baron had had something to do with it. Jack had been hand in hand +with Mrs. Jones at the making up of the Kappa-kappa. But as he went +to the station he reflected that Olivia Green was a very nice girl. If +those ten thousand pounds were true they would be a great comfort to +him. His mother was always bothering him to get married. If he +could bring himself to accept this as his fate he would be saved a deal +of trouble. Spooning at Killancodlem, after all, would not be bad fun. +He almost told himself that he would marry Miss Green, were it not +that he was determined not to be dictated to by that old harridan.<!-- Page 336 --></p> + +<p>Many people came and went at Rudham Park, but among those who +did not go was Guss Mildmay. Aunt Julia, who had become thoroughly +ashamed of the Baroness, had wished to take her departure on the +third day; but Guss had managed to stop her. "What's the good of +coming to a house for three days? You said you meant to stay a +week. They know what she is now, and the harm's done. It was +your own fault for bringing her. I don't see why I'm to be thrown +over because you've made a mistake about a vulgar old woman. We've +nowhere to go to till November, and now we are out of town for heaven's +sake let us stay as long as we can." In this way Guss carried her +point, watching her opportunity for a little conversation with her +former lover.</p> + +<p>At last the opportunity came. It was not that Jack had avoided +her, but that it was necessary that she should be sure of having half-an-hour +alone with him. At last she made the opportunity, calling +upon him to walk with her one Sunday morning when all other folk +were in church—or, perhaps, in bed. "No; I won't go to church," +she had said to Aunt Ju. "What is the use of your asking 'why +not?' I won't go. They are quite accustomed at Rudham to people not +going to church. I always go in a stiff house, but I won't go here. +When you are at Rome you should do as the Romans do. I don't +suppose there'll be half-a-dozen there out of the whole party." Aunt +Ju went to church as a matter of course, and the opportunity of walking +in the grounds with Jack was accomplished. "Are you going to +Killancodlem?" she said.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I shall, for a few days."</p> + +<p>"Have you got anything to say before you go?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing particular."</p> + +<p>"Of course I don't mean to me."</p> + +<p>"I've nothing particular to say to anybody just at present. Since +I've been here that wretched old Marquis has been my chief fate. +It's quite a pleasure to hear him abuse the Dean."</p> + +<p>"And the Dean's daughter?"</p> + +<p>"He has not much good to say about her either."</p> + +<p>"I'm not surprised at that, Jack. And what do you say to him +about the Dean's daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Very little, Guss."</p> + +<p>"And what are you going to say to me about her?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all, Guss."</p> + +<p>"She's all the world to you, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"What's the use of your saying that? In one sense she's nothing +to me. My belief is that the only man she'll ever care a pin about is +her husband. At any rate she does not care a straw for me."</p> + +<p>"Nor you for her?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—Yes I do. She's one of my pet friends. There's nobody +I like being with better."<!-- Page 337 --></p> + +<p>"And if she were not married?"</p> + +<p>"God knows what might have happened. I might have asked her +to have me, because she has got money of her own. What's the use of +coming back to the old thing, Guss?"</p> + +<p>"Money, money, money!"</p> + +<p>"Nothing more unfair was ever said to anyone. Have I given any +signs of selling myself for money? Have I been a fortune hunter? +No one has ever found me guilty of so much prudence. All I say is +that having found out the way to go to the devil myself, I won't take +any young woman I like with me there by marrying her. Heavens and +earth! I can fancy myself returned from a wedding tour with some +charmer, like you, without a shilling at my banker's, and beginning life +at lodgings, somewhere down at Chelsea. Have you no imagination? +Can't you see what it would be? Can't you fancy the stuffy sitting +room with the horsehair chairs, and the hashed mutton, and the cradle +in the corner before long?"</p> + +<p>"No I can't," said Guss.</p> + +<p>"I can;—two cradles, and very little of the hashed mutton; and +my lady wife with no one to pin her dress for her but the maid of all +work with black fingers."</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't be like that."</p> + +<p>"It very soon would, if I were to marry a girl without a fortune. +And I know myself. I'm a very good fellow while the sun shines, but +I couldn't stand hardship. I shouldn't come home to the hashed +mutton. I should dine at the club, even though I had to borrow the +money. I should come to hate the cradle and its occupant, and the +mother of its occupant. I should take to drink, and should blow my +brains out just as the second cradle came. I can see it all as plain as +a pikestaff. I often lay awake the whole night and look at it. You +and I, Guss, have made a mistake from the beginning. Being poor +people we have lived as though we were rich."</p> + +<p>"I have never done so."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, you have. Instead of dining out in Fitzroy Square and +drinking tea in Tavistock Place, you have gone to balls in Grosvenor +Square and been presented at Court."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't my fault."</p> + +<p>"It has been so, and therefore you should have made up your mind +to marry a rich man."</p> + +<p>"Who was it asked me to love him?"</p> + +<p>"Say that I did if you please. Upon my word I forget how it +began, but say that it was my fault. Of course it was my fault. +Are you going to blow me up for that? I see a girl, and first I like +her, and then I love her, and then I tell her so;—or else she finds it +out without my telling. Was that a sin you can't forgive?"</p> + +<p>"I never said it was a sin."</p> + +<p>"I don't mind being a worm, but I won't be trodden upon overmuch.<!-- Page 338 --> +Was there ever a moment in which you thought that I thought of +marrying you?"</p> + +<p>"A great many, Jack."</p> + +<p>"Did I ever say so?"</p> + +<p>"Never. I'll do you justice there. You have been very cautious."</p> + +<p>"Of course you can be severe, and of course I am bound to bear it. +I have been cautious,—for your sake!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Jack!"</p> + +<p>"For your sake. When I first saw how it was going to be,—how it +might be between you and me,—I took care to say outright that I +couldn't marry unless a girl had money."</p> + +<p>"There will be something—when papa dies."</p> + +<p>"The most healthy middle-aged gentleman in London! There +might be half a dozen cradles, Guss, before that day. If it will do you +good, you shall say I'm the greatest rascal walking."</p> + +<p>"That will do me no good."</p> + +<p>"But I don't know that I can give you any other privilege."</p> + +<p>Then there was a long pause during which they were sauntering +together under an old oak tree in the park. "Do you love me, Jack?" +she then asked, standing close up to him.</p> + +<p>"God bless my soul! That's going back to the beginning."</p> + +<p>"You are heartless,—absolutely heartless. It has come to that +with you that any real idea of love is out of the question."</p> + +<p>"I can't afford it, my dear."</p> + +<p>"But is there no such thing as love that you can't help? Can you +drop a girl out of your heart altogether simply because she has got no +money? I suppose you did love me once?" Here Jack scratched his +head. "You did love me once?" she said, persevering with her +question.</p> + +<p>"Of course I did," said Jack, who had no objection to making +assurances of the past.</p> + +<p>"And you don't now?"</p> + +<p>"Whoever said so? What's the good of talking about it?"</p> + +<p>"Do you think you owe me nothing?"</p> + +<p>"What's the good of owing, if a man can't pay his debts?"</p> + +<p>"You will own nothing then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I will. If anyone left me twenty thousand pounds to-morrow, +then I should owe you something."</p> + +<p>"What would you owe me?"</p> + +<p>"Half of it."</p> + +<p>"And how would you pay me?" He thought a while before he +made his answer. He knew that in that case he would not wish to pay +the debt in the only way in which it would be payable. "You mean +then that you would—marry me?"</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't be afraid of the hashed mutton and cradles."</p> + +<p>"In that case you—would marry me?"<!-- Page 339 --></p> + +<p>"A man has no right to take so much on himself as to say that."</p> + +<p>"Psha!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I should. I should make a devilish bad husband even +then."</p> + +<p>"Why should you be worse than others?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Perhaps I was made worse. I can't fancy myself +doing any duty well. If I had a wife of my own I should be sure to +fall in love with somebody else's."</p> + +<p>"Lady George for instance."</p> + +<p>"No;—not Lady George. It would not be with somebody whom +I had learned to think the very best woman in all the world. I am +very bad, but I'm just not bad enough to make love to her. Or rather +I am very foolish, but just not foolish enough to think that I could +win her."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she's just the same as others, Jack."</p> + +<p>"She's not just the same to me. But I'd rather not talk about her, +Guss. I'm going to Killancodlem in a day or two, and I shall leave +this to-morrow!"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow!"</p> + +<p>"Well; yes; to-morrow. I must be a day or two in town, and +there is not much doing here. I'm tired of the old Marquis who is +the most illnatured brute I ever came across in my life, and there's no +more fun to be made of the Baroness. I'm not sure but that she has +the best of the fun. I didn't think there was an old woman in the +world could get a five pound note out of me; but she had."</p> + +<p>"How could you be so foolish?"</p> + +<p>"How indeed! You'll go back to London?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so;—unless I drown myself."</p> + +<p>"Don't do that, Guss?"</p> + +<p>"I often think it will be best. You don't know what my life is,—how +wretched. And you made it so."</p> + +<p>"Is that fair, Guss?"</p> + +<p>"Quite fair! Quite true! You have made it miserable. You +know you have. Of course you know it."</p> + +<p>"Can I help it now?"</p> + +<p>"Yes you can. I can be patient if you will say that it shall be some +day. I could put up with anything if you would let me hope. When +you have got that twenty thousand pounds——?"</p> + +<p>"But I shall never have it."</p> + +<p>"If you do,—will you marry me then? Will you promise me that +you will never marry anybody else?"</p> + +<p>"I never shall."</p> + +<p>"But will you promise me? If you will not say so much as that to +me you must be false indeed. When you have the twenty thousand +pounds will you marry me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly."<!-- Page 340 --></p> + +<p>"And you can laugh about such a matter when I am pouring out +my very soul to you? You can make a joke of it when it is all my life +to me! Jack, if you will say that it shall happen some day,—some +day,—I will be happy. If you won't,—I can only die. It may be +play to you, but it's death to me." He looked at her, and saw that +she was quite in earnest. She was not weeping, but there was a +drawn, heavy look about her face which, in truth, touched his heart. +Whatever might be his faults he was not a cruel man. He had defended +himself without any scruples of conscience when she had seemed +to attack him, but now he did not know how to refuse her request. It +amounted to so little! "I don't suppose it will ever take place, but +I think I ought to allow myself to consider myself as engaged to you," +she said.</p> + +<p>"As it is you are free to marry anyone else," he replied.</p> + +<p>"I don't care for such freedom. I don't want it. I couldn't marry +a man whom I didn't love."</p> + +<p>"Nobody knows what that they can do till they're tried."</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose, sir, I've never been tried? But I can't bring +myself to laugh now, Jack. Don't joke now. Heaven knows when +we may see each other again. You will promise me that, Jack?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—if you wish it." And so at last she had got a promise from +him! She said nothing more to fix it, fearing that in doing so she +might lose it; but she threw herself into his arms and buried her face +upon his bosom.</p> + +<p>Afterwards, when she was leaving him, she was very solemn in her +manner to him. "I will say good-bye now, Jack, for I shall hardly +see you again to speak to. You do love me?"</p> + +<p>"You know I do."</p> + +<p>"I am so true to you! I have always been true to you. God bless +you, Jack. Write me a line sometimes." Then he escaped, having +brought her back to the garden among the flowers, and he wandered +away by himself across the park. At last he had engaged himself. +He knew that it was so, and he knew that she would tell all her +friends. Adelaide Houghton would know, and would, of course, congratulate +him. There never could be a marriage. That would, of +course, be out of the question. But, instead of being the Jack De +Baron of old, at any rate free as air, he would be the young man engaged +to marry Augusta Mildmay. And then he could hardly now +refuse to answer the letters which she would be sure to write to him, +at least twice a week. There had been a previous period of letter-writing, +but that had died a natural death through utter neglect on +his part. But now——. It might be as well that he should take advantage +of the new law and exchange into an Indian regiment.</p> + +<p>But, even in his present condition, his mind was not wholly occupied +with Augusta Mildmay. The evil words which had been spoken to +him of Mary had not been altogether fruitless. His cousin Adelaide<!-- Page 341 --> +had told him over and over again that Lady George was as other +women,—by which his cousin had intended to say that Lady George +was the same as herself. Augusta Mildmay had spoken of his Phœnix +in the same strain. The Marquis had declared her to be utterly worthless. +It was not that he wished to think of her as they thought, or +that he could be brought so to think; but these suggestions, coming +as they did from those who knew how much he liked the woman, +amounted to ridicule aimed against the purity of his worship. They +told him,—almost told him,—that he was afraid to speak of love to +Lady George. Indeed he was afraid, and within his own breast he +was in some sort proud of his fear. But, nevertheless, he was touched +by their ridicule. He and Mary had certainly been dear friends. Certainly +that friendship had given great umbrage to her husband. Was +he bound to keep away from her because of her husband's anger? He +knew that they two were not living together. He knew that the Dean +would at any rate welcome him. And he knew, too, that there was +no human being he wished to see again so much as Lady George. He +had no purpose as to anything that he would say to her, but he was +resolved that he would see her. If then some word warmer than any he +had yet spoken should fall from him, he would gather from her answer +what her feelings were towards him. In going back to London on the +morrow he must pass by Brotherton, and he would make his arrangements +so as to remain there for an hour or two.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LII" id="CHAPTER_LII"></a>CHAPTER LII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">ANOTHER LOVER.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> party at Rudham Park had hardly been a success,—nor was it +much improved in wit or gaiety when Mrs. Montacute Jones, Lord +Giblet, and Jack de Baron had gone away, and Canon Holdenough +and his wife, with Mr. Groschut, had come in their places. This +black influx, as Lord Brotherton called it, had all been due to consideration +for his Lordship. Mr. De Baron thought that his guest +would like to see, at any rate, one of his own family, and Lady Alice +Holdenough was the only one whom he could meet. As to Mr. +Groschut, he was the Dean's bitterest enemy, and would, therefore, it +was thought, be welcome. The Bishop had been asked, as Mr. De +Baron was one who found it expedient to make sacrifices to respectability; +but, as was well known, the Bishop never went anywhere +except to clerical houses. Mr. Groschut, who was a younger man, +knew that it behoved him to be all things to all men, and that he +could not be efficacious among sinners unless he would allow himself<!-- Page 342 --> +to be seen in their paths. Care was, of course, taken that Lady Alice +should find herself alone with her brother. It was probably expected +that the Marquis would be regarded as less of an ogre in the country +if it were known that he had had communication with one of the +family without quarrelling with her. "So you're come here," he said.</p> + +<p>"I didn't know that people so pious would enter De Baron's doors."</p> + +<p>"Mr. De Baron is a very old friend of the Canon's. I hope he isn't +very wicked, and I'm afraid we are not very pious."</p> + +<p>"If you don't object, of course I don't. So they've all gone back +to the old house?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma is there."</p> + +<p>"And George?" he asked in a sharp tone.</p> + +<p>"And George,—at present."</p> + +<p>"George is, I think, the biggest fool I ever came across in my life. +He is so cowed by that man whose daughter he has married that he +doesn't know how to call his soul his own."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that, Brotherton. He never goes to the deanery to +stay there."</p> + +<p>"Then what makes him quarrel with me? He ought to know which +side his bread is buttered."</p> + +<p>"He had a great deal of money with her, you know."</p> + +<p>"If he thinks his bread is buttered on that side, let him stick to +that side and say so. I will regard none of my family as on friendly +terms with me who associate with the Dean of Brotherton or his +daughter after what took place up in London." Lady Alice felt this +to be a distinct threat to herself, but she allowed it to pass by without +notice. She was quite sure that the Canon would not quarrel with the +Dean out of deference to his brother-in-law. "The fact is they should +all have gone away as I told them, and especially when George had +married the girl and got her money. It don't make much difference +to me, but it will make a deal to him."</p> + +<p>"How is Popenjoy, Brotherton?" asked Lady Alice, anxious to +change the conversation.</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about him."</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"He has gone back to Italy with his mother. How can I tell? Ask +the Dean. I don't doubt that he knows all about him. He has +people following them about, and watching every mouthful they eat."</p> + +<p>"I think he has given all that up."</p> + +<p>"Not he. He'll have to, unless he means to spend more money +than I think he has got."</p> + +<p>"George is quite satisfied about Popenjoy now," said Lady Alice.</p> + +<p>"I fancy George didn't like the expense. But he began it, and I'll +never forgive him. I fancy it was he and Sarah between them. +They'll find that they will have had the worst of it. The poor little +beggar hadn't much life in him. Why couldn't they wait?"<!-- Page 343 --></p> + +<p>"Is it so bad as that, Brotherton?"</p> + +<p>"They tell me he is not a young Hercules. Oh yes;—you can give +my love to my mother. Tell her that if I don't see her it is all +George's fault. I am not going to the house while he's there." To +the Canon he hardly spoke a word, nor was the Canon very anxious to +talk to him. But it became known throughout the country that the +Marquis had met his sister at Rudham Park, and the general effect was +supposed to be good.</p> + +<p>"I shall go back to-morrow, De Baron," he said to his host that +same afternoon. This was the day on which Jack had gone to +Brotherton.</p> + +<p>"We shall be sorry to lose you. I'm afraid it has been rather +<a name="tn_pg_352"></a><!-- TN: original reads "dul"-->dull."</p> + +<p>"Not more dull than usual. Everything is dull after a certain time +of life unless a man has made some fixed line for himself. Some men +can eat and drink a great deal, but I haven't got stomach for that. +Some men play cards; but I didn't begin early enough to win money, +and I don't like losing it. The sort of things that a man does care for +die away from him, and of course it becomes dull."</p> + +<p>"I wonder you don't have a few horses in training."</p> + +<p>"I hate horses, and I hate being cheated."</p> + +<p>"They don't cheat me," said Mr. De Baron.</p> + +<p>"Ah;—very likely. They would me. I think I made a mistake, +De Baron, in not staying at home and looking after the property."</p> + +<p>"It's not too late, now."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is. I could not do it. I could not remember the tenants' +names, and I don't care about game. I can't throw myself into a litter +of young foxes, or get into a fury of passion about pheasants' eggs. +It's all beastly nonsense, but if a fellow could only bring himself to +care about it that wouldn't matter. I don't care about anything."</p> + +<p>"You read."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't. I pretend to read—a little. If they had left me +alone I think I should have had myself bled to death in a warm bath. +But I won't now. That man's daughter shan't be Lady Brotherton +if I can help it. I have rather liked being here on the whole, though +why the d—— you should have a Germain impostor in your house, and +a poor clergyman, I can't make out."</p> + +<p>"He's the Deputy Bishop of the diocese."</p> + +<p>"But why have the Bishop himself unless he happen to be a friend? +Does your daughter like her marriage?"</p> + +<p>"I hope so. She does not complain."</p> + +<p>"He's an awful ass,—and always was. I remember when you +used always to finish up your books by making him bet as you +pleased."</p> + +<p>"He always won."</p> + +<p>"And now you've made him marry your daughter. Perhaps he has<!-- Page 344 --> +won there. I like her. If my wife would die and he would die, we +might get up another match and cut out Lord George after all." This +speculation was too deep even for Mr. De Baron, who laughed and +shuffled himself about, and got out of the room.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you have liked to be a marchioness," he said, some +hours afterwards, to Mrs. Houghton. She was in the habit of sitting +by him and talking to him late in the evening, while he was +sipping his curaçoa and soda water, and had become accustomed to +hear odd things from him. He liked her because he could say what +he pleased to her, and she would laugh and listen, and show no offence. +But this last question was very odd. Of course she thought that it +referred to the old overtures made to her by Lord George; but in +that case, had she married Lord George, she could only have been +made a marchioness by his own death,—by that and by the death of +the little Popenjoy of whom she had heard so much.</p> + +<p>"If it had come in my way fairly," she said with an arch smile.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean that you should have murdered anybody. Suppose +you had married me?"</p> + +<p>"You never asked me, my lord."</p> + +<p>"You were only eight or nine years old when I saw you last."</p> + +<p>"Isn't it a pity you didn't get yourself engaged to me then? Such +things have been done."</p> + +<p>"If the coast were clear I wonder whether you'd take me now."</p> + +<p>"The coast isn't clear, Lord Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"No, by George. I wish it were, and so do you too, if you'd dare +to say so."</p> + +<p>"You think I should be sure to take you."</p> + +<p>"I think you would. I should ask you at any rate. I'm not so +old by ten years as Houghton."</p> + +<p>"Your age would not be the stumbling block."</p> + +<p>"What then?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't say there would be any. I don't say that there would +not. It's a kind of thing that a woman doesn't think of."</p> + +<p>"It's just the kind of thing that women do think of."</p> + +<p>"Then they don't talk about it, Lord Brotherton. Your brother +you know did want me to marry him."</p> + +<p>"What, George? Before Houghton?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly;—before I had thought of Mr. Houghton."</p> + +<p>"Why the deuce did you refuse him? Why did you let him take +that little——" He did not fill up the blank, but Mrs. Houghton +quite understood that she was to suppose everything that was bad. +"I never heard of this before."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't for me to tell you."</p> + +<p>"What an ass you were."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so. What should we have lived upon? Papa would +not have given us an income."<!-- Page 345 --></p> + +<p>"I could."</p> + +<p>"But you wouldn't. You didn't know me then."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you'd have been just as keen as she is to rob my boy of +his name. And so George wanted to marry you! Was he very much +in love?"</p> + +<p>"I was bound to suppose so, my lord."</p> + +<p>"And you didn't care for him!"</p> + +<p>"I didn't say that. But I certainly did not care to set up housekeeping +without a house or without the money to get one. Was I +wrong?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose a fellow ought to have money when he wants to marry. +Well, my dear, there is no knowing what may come yet. Won't it be +odd, if after all, you should be Marchioness of Brotherton some day? +After that won't you give me a kiss before you say good-night."</p> + +<p>"I would have done if you had been my brother-in-law,—or, +perhaps, if the people were not all moving about in the next room. +Good-night, Marquis."</p> + +<p>"Good-night. Perhaps you'll regret some day that you haven't +done what I asked."</p> + +<p>"I might regret it more if I did." Then she took herself off, +enquiring in her own mind whether it might still be possible that she +should ever preside in the drawing-room at Manor Cross. Had he +not been very much in love with her, surely he would not have talked +to her like that.</p> + +<p>"I think I'll say good-bye to you, De Baron," the Marquis said to +his host, that night.</p> + +<p>"You won't be going early."</p> + +<p>"No;—I never do anything early. But I don't like a fuss just as +I am going. I'll get down and drive away to catch some train. My +man will manage it all."</p> + +<p>"You go to London?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be in Italy within a week. I hate Italy, but I think I +hate England worse. If I believed in heaven and thought I were +going there, what a hurry I should be in to die."</p> + +<p>"Let us know how Popenjoy is."</p> + +<p>"You'll be sure to know whether he is dead or alive. There's +nothing else to tell. I never write letters except to Knox, and very +few to him. Good-night."</p> + +<p>When the Marquis was in his room, his courier, or the man so +called, came to undress him. "Have you heard anything to-day?" +he asked in Italian. The man said that he had heard. A letter had +reached him that afternoon from London. The letter had declared +that little Popenjoy was sinking. "That will do Bonni," he said. +"I will get into bed by myself." Then he sat down and thought of +himself, and his life, and his prospects,—and of the prospects of his +enemies.<!-- Page 346 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIII" id="CHAPTER_LIII"></a>CHAPTER LIII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">POOR POPENJOY!</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">On</span> the following morning the party at Rudham Park were assembled +at breakfast between ten and eleven. It was understood that the +Marquis was gone,—or going. The Mildmays were still there with +the Baroness, and the Houghtons, and the black influx from the +cathedral town. A few other new comers had arrived on the previous +day. Mr. Groschut, who was sitting next to the Canon, had declared +his opinion that, after all, the Marquis of Brotherton was a very +affable nobleman. "He's civil enough," said the Canon, "when +people do just what he wants."</p> + +<p>"A man of his rank and position of course expects to have some +deference paid to him."</p> + +<p>"A man of his rank and position should be very careful of the rights +of others, Mr. Groschut."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid his brother did make himself troublesome. You're +one of the family, Canon, and therefore, of course, know all about it."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing at all about it, Mr. Groschut."</p> + +<p>"But it must be acknowledged that the Dean behaved very badly. +Violence!—personal violence! And from a clergyman,—to a man of +his rank!"</p> + +<p>"You probably don't know what took place in that room. I'm sure +I don't. But I'd rather trust the Dean than the Marquis any day. +The Dean's a man!"</p> + +<p>"But is he a clergyman?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he is; and a father. If he had been very much in the +wrong we should have heard more about it through the police."</p> + +<p>"I cannot absolve a clergyman for using personal violence," said +Mr. Groschut, very grandly. "He should have borne anything sooner +than degrade his sacred calling." Mr. Groschut had hoped to extract +from the Canon some expression adverse to the Dean, and to be able +to assure himself that he had enrolled a new ally.</p> + +<p>"Poor dear little fellow!" aunt Ju was saying to Mrs. Holdenough. +Of course she was talking of Popenjoy. "And you never saw him?"</p> + +<p>"No; I never saw him."</p> + +<p>"I am told he was a lovely child."</p> + +<p>"Very dark, I fancy."</p> + +<p>"And all those—those doubts? They're all over now?"</p> + +<p>"I never knew much about it, Miss Mildmay. I never inquired +into it. For myself, I always took it for granted that he was Popenjoy. +I think one always does take things for granted till somebody proves +that it is not so."<!-- Page 347 --></p> + +<p>"The Dean, I take it, has given it up altogether," said Mrs. +Houghton to old Lady Brabazon, who had come down especially to +meet her nephew, the Marquis, but who had hardly dared to speak a +word to him on the previous evening, and was now told that he was +gone. Lady Brabazon for a week or two had been quite sure that +Popenjoy was not Popenjoy, being at that time under the influence of +a very strong letter from Lady Sarah. But, since that, a general idea +had come to prevail that the Dean was wrong-headed, and Lady +Brabazon had given in her adhesion to Popenjoy. She had gone so +far as to call at Scumberg's, and to leave a box of bonbons.</p> + +<p>"I hope so, Mrs. Houghton; I do hope so. Quarrels are such +dreadful things in families. Brotherton isn't, perhaps, all that he +might have been."</p> + +<p>"Not a bad fellow, though, after all."</p> + +<p>"By no means, Mrs. Houghton, and quite what he ought to be in +appearance. I always thought that George was very foolish."</p> + +<p>"Lord George is foolish—sometimes."</p> + +<p>"Very stubborn, you know, and pigheaded. And as for the Dean,—is +was great interference on his part, very great interference. I won't +say that I like foreigners myself. I should be very sorry if Brabazon +were to marry a foreigner. But if he chooses to do so I don't see +why he is to be told that his heir isn't his heir. They say she is a +very worthy woman, and devoted to him." At this moment the butler +came in and whispered a word to Mr. De Baron, who immediately got +up from his chair. "So my nephew hasn't gone," said Lady Brabazon. +"That was a message from him. I heard his name."</p> + +<p>Her ears had been correct. The summons which Mr. De Baron +obeyed had come from the Marquis. He went upstairs at once, and +found Lord Brotherton sitting in his dressing-gown, with a cup of +chocolate before him, and a bit of paper in his hand. He did not say +a word, but handed the paper, which was a telegram, to Mr. De +Baron. As the message was in Italian, and as Mr. De Baron did not +read the language, he was at a loss. "Ah! you don't understand it," +said the Marquis. "Give it me. It's all over with little Popenjoy."</p> + +<p>"Dead!" said Mr. De Baron.</p> + +<p>"Yes. He has got away from all his troubles,—lucky dog! He'll +never have to think what he'll do with himself. They'd almost told +me that it must be so, before he went."</p> + +<p>"I grieve for you greatly, Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"There's no use in that, old fellow. I'm sorry to be a bother to +you, but I thought it best to tell you. I don't understand much about +what people call grief. I can't say that I was particularly fond of him, +or that I shall personally miss him. They hardly ever brought him to +me, and when they did, it bothered me. And yet, somehow it +pinches me;—it pinches me."</p> + +<p>"Of course it does."<!-- Page 348 --></p> + +<p>"It will be such a triumph to the Dean, and George. That's about +the worst of it. But they haven't got it yet. Though I should be the +most miserable dog on earth I'll go on living as long as I can keep my +body and soul together. I'll have another son yet, if one is to be had +for love or money. They shall have trouble enough before they find +themselves at Manor Cross."</p> + +<p>"The Dean'll be dead before that time;—and so shall I," said +Mr. De Baron.</p> + +<p>"Poor little boy! You never saw him. They didn't bring him in +when you were over at Manor Cross?"</p> + +<p>"No;—I didn't see him."</p> + +<p>"They weren't very proud of showing him. He wasn't much to +look at. Upon my soul I don't know whether he was legitimate or +not, according to English fashions." Mr. De Baron stared. "They +had something to stand upon, but,—damn it,—they went about it in +such a dirty way! It don't matter now, you know, but you needn't +repeat all this."</p> + +<p>"Not a word," said Mr. De Baron, wondering why such a communication +should have been made to him.</p> + +<p>"And there was plenty of ground for a good fight. I hardly know +whether she had been married or not. I never could quite find <a name="tn_pg_357"></a><!-- TN: period added after "out"-->out." +Again Mr. De Baron stared. "It's all over now."</p> + +<p>"But if you were to have another son?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! we're married now! There were two ceremonies. I believe the +Dean knows quite as much about it as I do;—very likely more. What +a rumpus there has been about a rickety brat who was bound to die."</p> + +<p>"Am I to tell them downstairs?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—you might as well tell them. Wait till I'm gone. They'd +say I'd concealed it if I didn't let them know, and I certainly shan't +write. There's no Popenjoy now. If that young woman has a son +he can't be Popenjoy as long as I live. I'll take care of myself. By +George I will. Fancy, if the Dean had killed me. He'd have made +his own daughter a Marchioness."</p> + +<p>"But he'd have been hung."</p> + +<p>"Then I wish he'd done it. I wonder how it would have gone. +There was nobody there to see, nor to hear. Well;—I believe I'll +think of going. There's a train at two. You'll let me have a carriage; +won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"Let me get out some back way, and don't say a word about this +till I'm off. I wouldn't have them condoling with me, and rejoicing +in their sleeves, for a thousand pounds. Tell Holdenough, or my +sister;—that'll be enough. Good-bye. If you want ever to see me +again, you must come to Como." Then Mr. De Baron took his leave, +and the Marquis prepared for his departure.</p> + +<p>As he was stepping into the carriage at a side door he was greeted<!-- Page 349 --> +by Mr. Groschut. "So your Lordship is leaving us," said the Chaplain. +The Marquis looked at him, muttered something, and snarled +as he hurried up the step of the carriage. "I'm sorry that we are to lose +your Lordship so soon." Then there was another snarl. "I had one +word I wanted to say."</p> + +<p>"To me! What can you have to say to me?"</p> + +<p>"If at any time I can do anything for your Lordship at Brotherton——"</p> + +<p>"You can't do anything. Go on." The last direction was given +to the coachman, and the carriage was driven off, leaving Mr. Groschut +on the path.</p> + +<p>Before lunch everybody in the house knew that poor little Popenjoy +was dead, and that the Dean had, in fact, won the battle,—though +not in the way that he had sought to win it. Lord Brotherton had, +after a fashion, been popular at Rudham, but, nevertheless, it was felt +by them all that Lady George was a much greater woman to-day than +she had been yesterday. It was felt also that the Dean was in the +ascendant. The Marquis had been quite agreeable, making love to +the ladies, and fairly civil to the gentlemen,—excepting Mr. Groschut; +but he certainly was not a man likely to live to eighty. He was +married, and, as was generally understood, separated from his wife. +They might all live to see Lady George Marchioness of Brotherton +and a son of hers Lord Popenjoy.</p> + +<p>"Dead!" said Lady Brabazon, when Lady Alice, with sad face, +whispered to her the fatal news.</p> + +<p>"He got a telegram this morning from Italy. Poor little boy."</p> + +<p>"And what'll he do now;—the Marquis I mean?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose he'll follow his wife," said Lady Alice.</p> + +<p>"Was he much cut up?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't see him. He merely sent me word by Mr. De Baron." +Mr. De Baron afterwards assured Lady Brabazon that the poor father +had been very much cut up. Great pity was expressed throughout +the party, but there was not one there who would not now have been +civil to poor Mary.</p> + +<p>The Marquis had his flowers, and his fruit, and his French novels on +his way up to town, and kept his sorrow, if he felt it, very much to +himself. Soon after his arrival at Scumberg's, at which place they +were obliged to take him in as he was still paying for his rooms, he made +it known that he should start for Italy in a day or two. On that night +and on the next he did not go out in his brougham, nor did he give +any offence to Mrs. Walker. London was as empty as London ever is, +and nobody came to see him. For two days he did not leave his room, +the same room in which the Dean had nearly killed him, and received +nobody but his tailor and his hair-dresser. I think that, in his way, +he did grieve for the child who was gone, and who, had he lived, would +have been the intended heir of his title and property. They must now<!-- Page 350 --> +all go from him to his enemies! And the things themselves were to +himself of so very little value! Living alone at Scumberg's was not a +pleasant life. Even going out in his brougham at nights was not very +pleasant to him. He could do as he liked at Como, and people +wouldn't grumble;—but what was there even at Como that he really +liked to do? He had a half worn out taste for scenery which he had +no longer energy to gratify by variation. It had been the resolution of +his life to live without control, and now, at four and forty, he found +that the life he had chosen was utterly without attraction. He had +been quite in earnest in those regrets as to shooting, hunting, and the +duties of an English country life. Though he was free from remorse, +not believing in anything good, still he was open to a conviction that +had he done what other people call good, he would have done better +for himself. Something of envy stirred him as he read the records of a +nobleman whose political life had left him no moment of leisure for +his private affairs;—something of envy when he heard of another whose +cattle were the fattest in the land. He was connected with Lord +Grassangrains, and had always despised that well-known breeder of +bullocks;—but he could understand now that Lord Grassangrains +should wish to live, whereas life to him was almost unbearable. Lord +Grassangrains probably had a good appetite.</p> + +<p>On the last morning of his sojourn at Scumberg's he received two +or three letters which he would willingly have avoided by running +away had it been possible. The first he opened was from his old mother, +who had not herself troubled him much with letters for some years +past. It was as follows:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dearest Brotherton</span>,—I have heard about poor Popenjoy, and I +am so unhappy. Darling little fellow. We are all very wretched here, and +I have nearly cried my eyes out. I hope you won't go away without +seeing me. If you'll let me, I'll go up to London, though I haven't +been there for I don't know how long. But perhaps you will come +here to your own house. I do so wish you would.</p> + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature2">"Your most affectionate mother,<br></span> +<span class="smcap presignature3">"H. Brotherton.<br></span> +</div> + +<p>"P.S.—Pray don't turn George out at the end of the month."</p></div> + +<p>This he accepted without anger as being natural, but threw aside as +being useless. Of course he would not answer it. They all knew +that he never answered their letters. As to the final petition he had +nothing to say to it.</p> + +<p>The next was from Lord George, and shall also be given:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Brotherton</span>,—I cannot let the tidings which I have just +heard pass by without expressing my sympathy. I am very sorry<!-- Page 351 --> +indeed that you should have lost your son. I trust you will credit me +for saying so much with absolute truth.</p> + + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature2">"Yours always,<br></span> +<span class="smcap presignature3">"George Germain."<br></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>"I don't believe a word of it," he said almost out loud. To his +thinking it was almost impossible that what his brother said should be +true. Why should he be sorry,—he that had done his utmost to +prove that Popenjoy was not Popenjoy? He crunched the letter up and +cast it on one side. Of course he would not answer that.</p> + +<p>The third was from a new correspondent; and that also the reader +shall see;—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Lord Marquis</span>,—Pray believe that had I known under +what great affliction you were labouring when you left Rudham Park +I should have been the last man in the world to intrude myself upon +you. Pray believe me also when I say that I have heard of your +great bereavement with sincere sympathy, and that I condole with +you from the bottom of my heart. Pray remember, my dear Lord, +that if you will turn aright for consolation you certainly will not turn +in vain.</p> + +<p>"Let me add, though this is hardly the proper moment for such +allusion, that both his lordship the Bishop and myself were most indignant +when we heard of the outrage committed upon you at your +hotel. I make no secret of my opinion that the present Dean of +Brotherton ought to be called upon by the great Council of the Nation +to vacate his promotion. I wish that the bench of bishops had the +power to take from him his frock.</p> + +<div class="preclosing"> +<span class="presignaturea">"I have the honour to be,<br></span> +<span class="presignatureb" style="padding-top:.25em;">"My Lord Marquis,<br></span> +</div> +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature1long">"With sentiments of most unfeigned respect,<br></span> +<span class="presignature2" style="padding-top:.25em;">"Your Lordship's most humble servant,<br></span> +<span class="smcap presignature3">"Joseph Groschut."<br></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The Marquis smiled as he also threw this letter into the waste-paper +basket, telling himself that birds of that feather very often did fall out +with one another.<!-- Page 352 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIV" id="CHAPTER_LIV"></a>CHAPTER LIV.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">JACK DE BARON'S VIRTUE.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">We</span> must now go back to Jack De Baron, who left Rudham Park +the same day as the Marquis,—having started before the news of Lord +Popenjoy's death had been brought down stairs by Mr. De Baron. Being +only Jack De Baron he had sent to Brotherton for a fly, and in that +conveyance had had himself taken to the "Lion," arriving there three +or four hours before the time at which he purposed to leave the town. +Indeed his arrangements had intentionally been left so open that he +might if he liked remain the night,—or if he pleased, remain a week at +the "Lion." He thought it not improbable that the Dean might ask +him to dinner, and, if so, he certainly would dine with the Dean.</p> + +<p>He was very serious,—considering who he was, we may almost say +solemn, as he sat in the fly. It was the rule of his life to cast all cares +from him, and his grand principle to live from hand to mouth. He +was almost a philosopher in his epicureanism, striving always that +nothing should trouble him. But now he had two great troubles, +which he could not throw off from him. In the first place, after +having striven against it for the last four or five years with singular +success, he had in a moment of weakness allowed himself to become +engaged to Guss Mildmay. She had gone about it so subtlely that he +had found himself manacled almost before he knew that the manacles +were there. He had fallen into the trap of an hypothesis, and now +felt that the preliminary conditions on which he had seemed to depend +could never avail him. He did not mean to marry Guss Mildmay. +He did not suppose that she thought he meant to marry her. He did not +love her, and he did not believe very much in her love for him. But +Guss Mildmay, having fought her battle in the world for many years +with but indifferent success, now felt that her best chance lay in having +a bond upon her old lover. He ought not to have gone to Rudham +when he knew that she was to be there. He had told himself that +before, but he had not liked to give up the only chance which had +come in his way of being near Lady George since she had left London. +And now he was an engaged man,—a position which had always been to +him full of horrors. He had run his bark on to the rock, which it +had been the whole study of his navigation to avoid. He had committed +the one sin which he had always declared to himself that he +never would commit. This made him unhappy.</p> + +<p>And he was uneasy also,—almost unhappy,—respecting Lady George. +People whom he knew to be bad had told him things respecting her +which he certainly did not believe, but which he did not find it compatible +with his usual condition of life altogether to disbelieve. If he<!-- Page 353 --> +had ever loved any woman he loved her. He certainly respected her +as he had never respected any other young woman. He had found the +pleasure to be derived from her society to be very different from that +which had come from his friendship with others. With her he could +be perfectly innocent, and at the same time completely happy. To +dance with her, to ride with her, to walk with her, to sit with the +privilege of looking at her, was joy of itself, and required nothing +beyond. It was a delight to him to have any little thing to do for her. +When his daily life was in any way joined with hers there was a +brightness in it which he thoroughly enjoyed though he did not quite +understand. When that affair of the dance came, in which Lord +George had declared his jealousy, he had been in truth very unhappy +because she was unhappy, and he had been thoroughly angry with the +man, not because the man had interfered with his own pleasures, but +because of the injury and the injustice done to the wife. He found +himself wounded, really hurt, because she had been made subject to +calumny. When he tried to analyse the feeling he could not understand +it. It was so different from anything that had gone before! +He was sure that she liked him, and yet there was a moment in which +he thought that he would purposely keep out of her way for the future, +lest he might be a trouble to her. He loved her so well that his love +for a while almost made him unselfish.</p> + +<p>And yet,—yet he might be mistaken about her. It had been the +theory of his life that young married women become tired of their +husbands, and one of his chief doctrines that no man should ever love +in such a way as to believe in the woman he loves. After so many +years, was he to give up his philosophy? Was he to allow the ground +to be cut from under his feet by a young creature of twenty-one +who had been brought up in a county town? Was he to run away +because a husband had taken it into his head to be jealous? All the +world had given him credit for his behaviour at the Kappa-kappa. +He had gathered laurels,—very much because he was supposed to be +the lady's lover. He had never boasted to others of the lady's favour; +but he knew that she liked him, and he had told himself that he +would be poor-spirited if he abandoned her.</p> + +<p>He drove up to the "Lion" and ordered a room. He did not +know whether he should want it, but he would at any rate bespeak it. +And he ordered his dinner. Come what come might, he thought that +he would dine and sleep at Brotherton that day. Finding himself so +near to Lady George, he would not leave her quite at once. He asked +at the inn whether the Dean was in Brotherton. Yes; the Dean was +certainly at the deanery. He had been seen about in the city that +morning. The inhabitants, when they talked about Brotherton, always +called it the city. And were Lord George and Lady George at the +deanery? In answer to this question, the landlady with something of +a lengthened face declared that Lady George was with her papa, but<!-- Page 354 --> +that Lord George was at Manor Cross. Then Jack De Baron strolled +out towards the Close.</p> + +<p>It was a little after one when he found himself at the cathedral +door, and thinking that the Dean and his daughter might be at lunch, +he went into the building, so that he might get rid of half an hour. +He had not often been in cathedrals of late years, and now looked +about him with something of awe. He could remember that when he +was a child he had been brought here to church, and as he stood in +the choir with the obsequient verger at his elbow he recollected how +he had got through the minutes of a long sermon,—a sermon that had +seemed to be very long,—in planning the way in which, if left to himself, +he would climb to the pinnacle which culminated over the bishop's +seat, and thence make his way along the capitals and vantages of +stonework, till he would ascend into the triforium and thus become +lord and master of the old building. How much smaller his ambitions +had become since then, and how much less manly. "Yes, sir; his +Lordship is here every Sunday when he is at the palace," said the +verger. "But his Lordship is ailing now."</p> + +<p>"And the Dean?"</p> + +<p>"The Dean always comes once a day to service when he is here; +but the Dean has been much away of late. Since Miss Mary's marriage +the Dean isn't in Brotherton as much as formerly."</p> + +<p>"I know the Dean. I'm going to his house just now. They like +him in Brotherton, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"That's according to their way of thinking, sir. We like him. I +suppose you heard, sir, there was something of a row between him +and Miss Mary's brother-in-law!" Jack said that he had heard of it. +"There's them as say he was wrong."</p> + +<p>"I say he was quite right."</p> + +<p>"That's what we think, sir. It's got about that his Lordship said +some bad word of Miss Mary. A father wasn't to stand that because +he's a clergyman, was he, sir?"</p> + +<p>"The Dean did just what you or I would do."</p> + +<p>"That's just it, sir. That's what we all say. Thank you, sir. You +won't see Prince Edward's monument, sir? Gentlemen always do go +down to the crypt." Jack wouldn't see the monument to-day, and +having paid his half-crown, was left to wander about alone through +the aisles.</p> + +<p>How would it have been with him if his life had been different; if +he had become, perhaps, a clergyman and had married Mary +Lovelace?—or +if he had become anything but what he was with her for his wife? +He knew that his life had been a failure, that the best of it was gone, +and that even the best of it had been unsatisfactory. Many people +liked him, but was there any one who loved him? In all the world +there was but one person that he loved, and she was the wife of +another man. Of one thing at this moment he was quite sure,—that<!-- Page 355 --> +he would never wound her ears by speaking of his love. Would it not +be better that he should go away and see her no more? The very +tone in which the verger had spoken of Miss Mary had thrown to the +winds those doubts which had come from the teaching of Adelaide +Houghton and Guss Mildmay. If she had been as they said, would +even her father have felt for her as he did feel, and been carried away +by his indignation at the sound of an evil word?</p> + +<p>But he had asked after the Dean at the hotel, and had told the +verger of his acquaintance, and had been seen by many in the town. +He could not now leave the place without calling. So resolving he +knocked at last at the deanery door, and was told that the Dean was +at home. He asked for the Dean, and not for Lady George, and was +shown into the library. In a minute the Dean was with him. "Come +in and have some lunch," said the Dean. "We have this moment +sat down. Mary will be delighted to see you,—and so am I." Of +course he went in to lunch, and in a moment was shaking hands with +Mary, who in truth was delighted to see him.</p> + +<p>"You've come from Rudham?" asked the Dean.</p> + +<p>"This moment."</p> + +<p>"Have they heard the news there?"</p> + +<p>"What news?"</p> + +<p>"Lord Brotherton is there, is he not?"</p> + +<p>"I think he left to-day. He was to do so. I heard no news." He +looked across to Mary, and saw that her face was sad and solemn.</p> + +<p>"The child that they called Lord Popenjoy is dead," said the Dean. +He was neither sad nor solemn. He could not control the triumph of +his voice as he told the news.</p> + +<p>"Poor little boy!" said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Dead!" exclaimed Jack.</p> + +<p>"I've just had a telegram from my lawyer in London. Yes; he's +out of the way. Poor little fellow! As sure as I sit here he was not +Lord Popenjoy."</p> + +<p>"I never understood anything about it," said Jack.</p> + +<p>"But I did. Of course the matter is at rest now. I'm not the man +to grudge any one what belongs to him; but I do not choose that any +one belonging to me should be swindled. If she were to have a son +now, he would be the heir."</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa, do not talk in that way."</p> + +<p>"Rights are rights, and the truth is the truth. Can any one wish +that such a property and such a title should go to the child of an +Italian woman whom no one has seen or knows?"</p> + +<p>"Let it take its chance now, papa."</p> + +<p>"Of course it must take its chance; but your chances must be +protected."</p> + +<p>"Papa, he was at any rate my nephew."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that. In law, I believe, he was no such thing. But<!-- Page 356 --> +he has gone, and we need think of him no further." He was very +triumphant. There was an air about him as though he had already +won the great stake for which he had been playing. But in the midst +of it all he was very civil to Jack De Baron. "You will stay and dine +with us to-day, Captain De Baron?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, do," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"We can give you a bed if you will sleep here."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. My things are at the hotel, and I will not move them. I +will come and dine if you'll have me."</p> + +<p>"We shall be delighted. We can't make company of you, because +no one is coming. I shouldn't wonder if Lord George rode over. He +will if he hears of this. Of course he'll know to-morrow; but perhaps +they will not have telegraphed to him. I should go out to Manor +Cross, only I don't quite like to put my foot in that man's house." +Jack could not but feel that the Dean treated him almost as though +he were one of the family. "I rather think I shall ride out and risk +it. You won't mind my leaving you?" Of course Jack declared +that he would not for worlds be in the way. "Mary will play +Badminton with you, if you like it. Perhaps you can get hold of +Miss Pountner and Grey; and make up a game." Mr. Grey +was one of the minor canons, and Miss Pountner was the canon's +daughter.</p> + +<p>"We shall do very well, papa. I'm not mad after Badminton, and +I dare say we shall manage without Miss Pountner."</p> + +<p>The Dean went off, and in spite of the feud did ride over to Manor +Cross. His mind was so full of the child's death and of the all but +certainty of coming glory which now awaited his daughter, that he +could not keep himself quiet. It seemed to him that a just Providence +had interfered to take that child away. And as the Marquis +hated him, so did he hate the Marquis. He had been willing at first +to fight the battle fairly without personal animosity. On the Marquis's +first arrival he had offered him the right hand of fellowship. He +remembered it all accurately,—how the Marquis had on that occasion +ill-used and insulted him. No man knew better than the Dean when +he was well-treated and when ill-treated. And then this lord had sent +for him for the very purpose of injuring and wounding him through +his daughter's name. His wrath on that occasion had not all expended +itself in the blow. After that word had been spoken he was +the man's enemy for ever. There could be no forgiveness. He could +not find room in his heart for even a spark of pity because the man had +lost an only child. Had not the man tried to do worse than kill his +only child—his daughter? Now the pseudo-Popenjoy was dead, and +the Dean was in a turmoil of triumph. It was essential to him that +he should see his son-in-law. His son-in-law must be made to understand +what it would be to be the father of the future Marquis of +Brotherton.<!-- Page 357 --></p> + +<p>"I think I'll just step across to the inn," said Jack, when the Dean +had left them.</p> + +<p>"And we'll have a game of croquet when you come back. I do +like croquet, though papa laughs at me. I think I like all games. It +is so nice to be doing something."</p> + +<p>Jack sauntered back to the inn, chiefly that he might have a further +opportunity of considering what he would say to her. And he did +make up his mind. He would play croquet with all his might, and +behave to her as though she were his dearest sister.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LV" id="CHAPTER_LV"></a>CHAPTER LV.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">HOW COULD HE HELP IT?</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">When</span> he returned she was out in the garden with her hat on and +a mallet in her hand; but she was seated on one of a cluster of garden-chairs +under a great cedar tree. "I think it's almost too hot to play," +she said. It was an August afternoon, and the sun was very bright +in the heavens. Jack was of course quite willing to sit under the +cedar-tree instead of playing croquet. He was prepared to do whatever +she wished. If he could only know what subjects she would +prefer, he would talk about them and nothing else. "How do you +think papa is looking?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"He always looks well."</p> + +<p>"Ah; he was made dreadfully unhappy by that affair up in London. +He never would talk about it to me; but he was quite ill while he +thought the Marquis was in danger."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe the Marquis was much the worse for it."</p> + +<p>"They said he was, and papa for some time could not get over it. +Now he is elated. I wish he would not be so glad because that poor +little boy has died."</p> + +<p>"It makes a great difference to him, Lady George;—and to you."</p> + +<p>"Of course it makes a difference, and of course I feel it. I am as +anxious for my husband as any other woman. If it should come +fairly, as it were by God's doing, I am not going to turn up my nose +at it."</p> + +<p>"Is not this fairly?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. Papa did not make the little boy die, of course. But I +don't think that people should long for things like this. If they can't +keep from wishing them, they should keep their wishes to themselves. +It is so like coveting other people's goods. Don't you think we ought +to keep the commandments, Captain De Baron?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly—if we can."<!-- Page 358 --></p> + +<p>"Then we oughtn't to long for other people's titles."</p> + +<p>"If I understand it, the Dean wanted to prevent somebody else +from getting a title which wasn't his own. That wouldn't be breaking +the commandment."</p> + +<p>"Of course I am not finding fault with papa. He would not for +worlds try to take anything that wasn't his,—or mine. But it's so sad +about the little boy."</p> + +<p>"I don't think the Marquis cared for him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he must have cared! His only child! And the poor mother;—think +how she must feel."</p> + +<p>"In spite of it all, I do think it's a very good thing that he's dead," +said Jack, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Then you ought to keep it to yourself, sir. It's a very horrid +thing to say so. Wouldn't you like to smoke a cigar? You may, you +know. Papa always smokes out here, because he says Mr. Groschut +can't see him."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Groschut is at Rudham," said Jack, as he took a cigar out of +his case and lit it.</p> + +<p>"At Rudham? What promotion!"</p> + +<p>"He didn't seem to me to be a first-class sort of a fellow."</p> + +<p>"Quite a last-class sort of fellow, if there is a last class. I'll tell +you a secret, Captain De Baron. Mr. Groschut is my pet abomination. +If I hate anybody, I hate him. I think I do really hate Mr. Groschut. +I almost wish that they would make him bishop of some unhealthy +place."</p> + +<p>"So that he might go away and die?"</p> + +<p>"If the mosquitoes would eat him day and night, that would be +enough. Who else was there at Rudham?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Montacute Jones."</p> + +<p>"Dear Mrs. Jones. I do like Mrs. Jones."</p> + +<p>"And Adelaide Houghton with her husband." Mary turned up +her nose and made a grimace as the Houghtons were named. "You +used to be very fond of Adelaide."</p> + +<p>"Very fond is a long word. We were by way of being friends; +but we are friends no longer."</p> + +<p>"Tell me what she did to offend you, Lady George? I know there +was something."</p> + +<p>"You are her cousin. Of course I am not going to abuse her to you."</p> + +<p>"She's not half so much my cousin as you are my friend,—if I may +say so. What did she do or what did she say?"</p> + +<p>"She painted her face."</p> + +<p>"If you're going to quarrel, Lady George, with every woman in +London who does that, you'll have a great many enemies."</p> + +<p>"And the hair at the back of her head got bigger and bigger every +month. Papa always quotes something about Dr. Fell when he's +asked why he does not like anybody. She's Dr. Fell to me."<!-- Page 359 --></p> + +<p>"I don't think she quite knows why you've cut her."</p> + +<p>"I'm quite sure she does, Captain De Baron. She knows all about +it. And now, if you please, we won't talk of her any more. Who else +was there at Rudham?"</p> + +<p>"All the old set. Aunt Ju and Guss."</p> + +<p>"Then you were happy."</p> + +<p>"Quite so. I believe that no one knows all about that better than +you do."</p> + +<p>"You ought to have been happy."</p> + +<p>"Lady George, I thought you always told the truth."</p> + +<p>"I try to; and I think you ought to have been happy. You don't +mean to tell me that Miss Mildmay is nothing to you?"</p> + +<p>"She is a very old friend."</p> + +<p>"Ought she not to be more? Though of course I have no right to +ask."</p> + +<p>"You have a right if any one has. I haven't a friend in the world +I would trust as I would you. No; she ought not to be more."</p> + +<p>"Have you never given her a right to think that she would be +more?"</p> + +<p>He paused a moment or two before he answered. Much as he +wished to trust her, anxious as he was that she should be his real +friend he could hardly bring himself to tell her all that had taken +place at Rudham Park during the last day or two. Up to that time +he never had given Miss Mildmay any right. So, at least, he still +assured himself. But now,—it certainly was different now. He desired +of all things to be perfectly honest with Lady George,—to be even +innocent in all that he said to her; but—just for this once—he was +obliged to deviate into a lie. "Never!" he said.</p> + +<p>"Of course it is not for me to enquire further."</p> + +<p>"It <a name="tn_pg_368"></a><!-- TN: original shows "s" instead of "is"-->is very hard to describe the way in which such an intimacy has +come about. Guss Mildmay and I have been very much thrown together; +but, even had she wished it, we never could have married. +We have no means."</p> + +<p>"And yet you live like rich people."</p> + +<p>"We have no means because we have lived like rich people."</p> + +<p>"You have never asked her to marry you?"</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"Nor made her think that you would ask her? That comes to the +same thing, Captain De Baron."</p> + +<p>"How am I to answer that? How am I to tell it all without +seeming to boast. When it first came to pass that we knew ourselves +well enough to admit of such a thing being said between us, I told +her that marriage was impossible. Is not that enough?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," said Lady George, who remembered well every word +that Gus Mildmay had said to herself. "I don't know why I should +enquire about it, only I thought——"<!-- Page 360 --></p> + +<p>"I know what you thought."</p> + +<p>"What did I think?"</p> + +<p>"That I was a heartless scoundrel."</p> + +<p>"No, never. If I had, I should not have,—have cared about it. +Perhaps it has been unfortunate."</p> + +<p>"Most unfortunate!" Then again there was a pause, during which +he went on smoking while she played with her mallet. "I wish +I could tell you everything about it;—only I can't. Did she ever +speak to you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, once."</p> + +<p>"And what did she say?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you that either."</p> + +<p>"I have endeavoured to be honest; but sometimes it is so difficult. +One wants sometimes to tell the whole truth, but it won't come out. +I am engaged to her now."</p> + +<p>"You are engaged to her!"</p> + +<p>"And two days since I was as free as ever."</p> + +<p>"Then I may congratulate you."</p> + +<p>"No, no. It makes me miserable. I do not love her. There is +one other person that I care for, and I never can care for any one +else. There is one woman that I love, and I never really loved any +one else."</p> + +<p>"That is very sad, Captain De Baron."</p> + +<p>"Is it not? I can never marry Miss Mildmay."</p> + +<p>"And yet you have promised?"</p> + +<p>"I have promised under certain circumstances which can never, +never come about."</p> + +<p>"Why did you promise if you do not love her?"</p> + +<p>"Cannot you understand without my telling you? I cannot tell +you that. I am sure you understand."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I do. Poor Miss Mildmay!"</p> + +<p>"And poor Jack De Baron!"</p> + +<p>"Yes; poor Jack De Baron also! No man should talk to a girl +of marrying her unless he loves her. It is different with a girl. She +may come to love a man. She may love a man better than all the +world, though she hardly knew him when she married him. If he is +good to her, she will certainly do so. But if a man marries a woman +without loving her, he will soon hate her."</p> + +<p>"I shall never marry Miss Mildmay."</p> + +<p>"And yet you have said you would?"</p> + +<p>"I told you that I wanted to tell you everything. It is so pleasant +to have some one to trust, even though I should be blamed as you +are blaming me. It simply means that I can marry no one else."</p> + +<p>"But you love some one?" She felt when she was asking the +question that it was indiscreet. When the assertion was made she +had not told herself that she was the woman. She had not thought<!-- Page 361 --> +it. For an instant she had tried to imagine who that other one could +be. But yet, when the words were out of her mouth, she knew that +they were indiscreet. Was she not indiscreet in holding any such +conversation with a man who was not her brother or even her cousin? +She wished that he were her cousin, so that she might become the +legitimate depository of his secrets. Though she was scolding him +for his misdoings, yet she hardly liked him the less for them. She +thought that she did understand how it was, and she thought that the +girl was more in fault than the man. It was not till the words had +passed her mouth and the question had been asked that she felt the +indiscretion. "But you love some one else?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I do; but I had not meant to speak about that."</p> + +<p>"I will enquire into no secrets."</p> + +<p>"Is that a secret? Can it be a secret? Do you not know that ever +since I knew you I have had no pleasure but in being with you, and +talking to you, and looking at you?"</p> + +<p>"Captain De Baron!" As she spoke she rose from her seat as +though she would at once leave him and go back into the house.</p> + +<p>"You must hear me now. You must not go without hearing me. +I will not say a word to offend you."</p> + +<p>"You have offended me."</p> + +<p>"How could I help it? What was I to do? What ought I to have +said? Pray do not go, Lady George."</p> + +<p>"I did not think you would have insulted me. I did trust you."</p> + +<p>"You may trust me. On my honour as a gentleman, I will never +say another word that you can take amiss. I wish I could tell you all +my feelings. One cannot help one's love."</p> + +<p>"A man may govern his words."</p> + +<p>"As I trust in heaven, I had determined that I would never say a +syllable to you that I might not have spoken to my sister. Have I +asked you to love me? I have not thought it possible that you should +do so. I know you to be too good. It has never come within my +dreams."</p> + +<p>"It is wicked to think of it."</p> + +<p>"I have not thought of it. I will never think of it. You are like +an angel to me. If I could write poetry, I should write about you. +If ever I build castles in the air and think what I might have been if +things had gone well with me, I try to fancy then that I might have +had you for a wife. That is not wicked. That is not a crime. Can +you be angry with me because, having got to know you as I do, I +think you better, nicer, jollier, more beautiful than any one else? +Have you never really loved a friend?"</p> + +<p>"I love my husband with all my heart,—oh, better than all the +world."</p> + +<p>Jack did not quite understand this. His angel was an angel. He +was sure of that. And he wished her to be still an angel. But he<!-- Page 362 --> +could not understand how any angel could passionately love Lord +George Germain,—especially this angel who had been so cruelly +treated by him. Had she loved him better than all the world when +he walked her out of Mrs. Jones' drawing-room, reprimanding her +before all the guests for her conduct in dancing the Kappa-kappa? +But this was a matter not open to argument. "I may still be your +friend?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I think you had better not come again."</p> + +<p>"Do not say that, Lady George. If I have done wrong, forgive +me. I think you must admit that I could hardly help myself."</p> + +<p>"Not help yourself!"</p> + +<p>"Did I not tell you that I wanted you to know the whole truth? +How could I make you understand about Miss Mildmay without +telling it all? Say that you will forgive me."</p> + +<p>"Say that it is not so, and then I will forgive you."</p> + +<p>"No. It is so, and it must be so. It will remain so always, but +yet you will surely forgive me, if I never speak of it again. You will +forgive me and understand me, and when hereafter you see me as a +middle-aged man about town, you will partly know why it is so. Oh +dear; I forgot to tell you. We had another old friend of yours at +Rudham,—a very particular friend." Of course she had forgiven him +and now she was thankful to him for his sudden breach of the subject; +but she was not herself strong enough immediately to turn to another +matter. "Who do you think was there?"</p> + +<p>"How can I tell?"</p> + +<p>"The Baroness."</p> + +<p>"No?"</p> + +<p>"As large as life."</p> + +<p>"Baroness Banmann at Mr. De Baron's."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—Baroness Banmann. Aunt Julia had contrived to get permission +to bring her, and the joke was that she did us all out of our +money. She got a five-pound note from me."</p> + +<p>"What a goose you were."</p> + +<p>"And ten from Lord Brotherton! I think that was the greatest +triumph. She was down on him without the slightest compunction. +I never saw a man so shot in my life. He sent me to look for the +money, and she never left me till I had got it for her."</p> + +<p>"I thought Aunt Ju had had enough of her."</p> + +<p>"I should think she has now. And we had Lord Giblet. Lord +Giblet is to marry Miss Patmore Green after all."</p> + +<p>"Poor Lord Giblet!"</p> + +<p>"And poor Miss Patmore Green. I don't know which will have +the worst of it. They can practise the Kappa-kappa together for consolation. +It is all Mrs. Jones' doing, and she is determined that he +shan't escape. I'm to go down to Killancodlem and help."</p> + +<p>"Why should you have anything to do with it?"<!-- Page 363 --></p> + +<p>"Very good shooting, and plenty to eat and drink,—and Giblet is a +friend of mine; so I'm bound to lend a hand. And now, Lady George, +I think I'll go to the hotel and be back to dinner. We are friends."</p> + +<p>"Yes; if you promise not to offend me."</p> + +<p>"I will never offend you. I will never say a word that all the +world might not hear,—except this once,—to thank you." Then he +seized her hand and kissed it. "You shall always be a sister to me," +he said. "When I am in trouble I will come to you. Say that you +will love me as a brother."</p> + +<p>"I will always regard you as a friend."</p> + +<p>"Regard is a cold word, but I will make the most of it. Here is +your father."</p> + +<p>At this moment they were coming from a side path on to the lawn, +and as they did so the Dean appeared upon the terrace through the +deanery room window. With the Dean was Lord George, and Mary, +as soon as she saw him, rushed up to him and threw her arms round +his neck. "Oh George, dear, dearest George, papa said that perhaps +you would come. You are going to stay?"</p> + +<p>"He will dine here," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"Only dine!"</p> + +<p>"I cannot stay longer to-day," said Lord George, with his eye upon +Captain De Baron. The Dean had told him that De Baron was +there; but, still, when he saw that the man had been walking with +his wife, a renewed uneasiness came upon him. It could not be right +that the man from whose arms he had rescued her on the night of the +ball should be left alone with her a whole afternoon in the Deanery +Garden! She was thoughtless as a child;—but it seemed to him that +the Dean was as thoughtless as his daughter. The Dean must know +what people had said. The Dean had himself seen that horrid dance, +with its results. The awful accusation made by the Marquis had been +uttered in the Dean's ears. Because that had been wicked and +devilishly false, the Dean's folly was not the less. Lord George embraced +his wife, but she knew from the touch of his arm round her +waist that there was something wrong with him.</p> + +<p>The two men shook hands of course, and then De Baron went out, +muttering something to the Dean as to his being back to dinner. "I +can't say I like that young man," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"I like him very much," replied the Dean. "He is always good-humoured, +and I think he's honest. I own to a predilection for happy +people."</p> + +<p>Mary was of course soon upstairs with her husband. "I thought +you would come," she said, hanging on him.</p> + +<p>"I did not like not to see you after the news. It is important. +You must feel that."</p> + +<p>"Poor little boy! Don't you grieve for them."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do. Brotherton has treated me very badly, but I do feel<!-- Page 364 --> +for him. I shall write to him and say so. But that will not alter the +fact. Popenjoy is dead."</p> + +<p>"No; it will not alter the fact." He was so solemn with her that +she hardly knew how to talk to him.</p> + +<p>"Popenjoy is dead,—if he was Popenjoy. I suppose he was; but +that does not signify now."</p> + +<p>"Not in the least I suppose."</p> + +<p>"And if you have a son——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, George?"</p> + +<p>"He won't be Popenjoy yet."</p> + +<p>"Or perhaps ever."</p> + +<p>"Or perhaps ever;—but a time will probably come when he will be +Popenjoy. We can't help thinking about it, you know."</p> + +<p>"Of course not."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't want my brother to die."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I don't."</p> + +<p>"But the family has to be kept up. I do care about the family. +They all think at Manor Cross that you should go over at once."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to stay there, George. Of course I will go if you +are going to stay there."</p> + +<p>"They think you should come, though it were only for a few +days."</p> + +<p>"And then? Of course I will go, George, if you say so. I have +had my visit with papa,—as much as I had a right to expect. And, +oh George, I do so long to be with you again." Then she hung upon +him and kissed him. It must have been impossible that he should be +really jealous, though Captain De Baron had been there the whole +day. Nor was he jealous, except with that Cæsarian jealousy lest +she should be unfortunate enough to cause a whisper derogatory to his +marital dignity.</p> + +<p>The matter had been fully discussed at Manor Cross; and the Manor +Cross conclave, meaning of course Lady Sarah, had thought that Mary +should be brought to the house, if only for a day or two, if only that +people in Brothershire might know that there had been no quarrel between +her and her husband. That she should have visited her father +might be considered as natural. It need not be accounted as quite unnatural +that she should have done so without her husband. But now,—now +it was imperative that Brothershire should know that the mother +of the future Lord Popenjoy was on good terms with the family. "Of +course her position is very much altered," Lady Susanna had said in private +to Lady Amelia. The old Marchioness felt a real longing to see +"dear Mary," and to ask becoming questions as to her condition. And +it was quite understood that she was not to be required to make any +cloaks or petticoats. The garments respecting which she must be solicitous +for the next six months would, as the Marchioness felt, be of a +very august nature. Oh, that the future baby might be born at Manor<!-- Page 365 --> +Cross! The Marchioness did not see why Lord George should leave +the house at all. Brotherton couldn't know anything about it in +Italy, and if George must go, Mary might surely be left there for the +event. The Marchioness declared that she could die happy if she +might see another Popenjoy born in the purple of Manor Cross.</p> + +<p>"When am I to go?" asked Mary. She was sitting now close to +him, and the question was asked with full delight.</p> + +<p>"I do not know whether you can be ready to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Of course I can be ready to-morrow. Oh George, to be back with +you! Even for ten days it seems to be a great happiness. But if you +go, then of course you will take me with you." There was a reality +about this which conquered him, even in spite of Captain De Baron, +so that he came down to dinner in good-humour with the world.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVI" id="CHAPTER_LVI"></a>CHAPTER LVI.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">SIR HENRY SAID IT WAS THE ONLY THING.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">The</span> dinner at the deanery went off without much excitement. Captain +De Baron would of course have preferred that Lord George should +have remained at Manor Cross, but under no circumstances could he +have had much more to say to the lady. They understood each other +now. He was quite certain that any evil thing spoken of her had +been sheer slander, and yet he had managed to tell her everything of +himself without subjecting himself to her undying anger. When she +left the drawing-room, the conversation turned again upon the great +Popenjoy question, and from certain words which fell from the Dean, +Jack was enabled to surmise that Lord George had reason to hope that +an heir might be born to him. "He does not look as though he would +live long himself," said the Dean, speaking of the Marquis.</p> + +<p>"I trust he may with all my heart," said Lord George.</p> + +<p>"That's another question," replied the Dean. "I only say that he +doesn't look like it." Lord George went away early, and Jack De +Baron thought it prudent to retire at the same time. "So you're +going to-morrow, dear," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa. Is it not best?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes. Nothing could be worse than a prolonged separation. +He means to be honest and good."</p> + +<p>"He is honest and good, papa."</p> + +<p>"You have had your triumph."</p> + +<p>"I did not want to triumph;—not at least over him."</p> + +<p>"After what had occurred it was necessary that you should have +your own way in coming here. Otherwise he would have triumphed.<!-- Page 366 --> +He would have taken you away, and you and I would have been +separated. Of course you are bound to obey him;—but there must +be limits. He would have taken you away as though in disgrace, and +that I could not stand. There will be an end of that now. God knows +when I shall see you again, Mary."</p> + +<p>"Why not, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Because he hasn't got over his feeling against me. I don't +think he ever gets over any feeling. Having no home of his own why +does he not bring you here?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think he likes the idea of being a burden to you."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. He has not cordiality enough to feel that when two +men are in a boat together, as he and I are because of you, all that +feeling should go to the wind. He ought not to be more ashamed to +sit at my table and drink of my cup than you are. If it were all well +between us and he had the property, should I scruple to go and stay +at Manor Cross."</p> + +<p>"You would still have your own house to go back to."</p> + +<p>"So will he,—after a while. But it can't be altered, dear, and God +forbid that I should set you against him. He is not a rake nor a +spendthrift, nor will he run after other women." Mary thought of +Mrs. Houghton, but she held her tongue. "He is not a bad man and +I think he loves you."</p> + +<p>"I am sure he does."</p> + +<p>"But I can't help feeling sad at parting with you. I suppose I +shall at any rate be able to see you up in town next season." The +Dean as he said this was almost weeping.</p> + +<p>Mary, when she was alone in her room, of course thought much of +Captain De Baron and his story. It was a pity,—a thousand pities,—that +it should be so. It was to be regretted,—much regretted,—that +he had been induced to tell his story. She was angry with herself because +she had been indiscreet, and she was still angry,—a little angry +with him,—because he had yielded to the temptation. But there had +been something sweet in it. She was sorry, grieved in her heart of +hearts that he should love her. She had never striven to gain his +love. She had never even thought of it. It ought not to have been +so. She should have thought of it; she should not have shown herself +to be so pleased with his society. But yet,—yet it was sweet. Then +there came upon her some memory of her old dreams, before she had +been engaged to Lord George. She knew how vain had been those +dreams, because she now loved Lord George with her whole heart; +but yet she remembered them, and felt as though they had come true +with a dreamy half truth. And she brought to mind all those flattering +words with which he had spoken her praises,—how he had told her +that she was an angel, too good and pure to be supposed capable of +evil; how he had said that in his castles in the air he would still think +of her as his wife. Surely a man may build what castles in the air he<!-- Page 367 --> +pleases, if he will only hold his tongue! She was quite sure that she +did not love him, but she was sure also that his was the proper way of +making love. And then she thought of Guss Mildmay. Could she +not in pure charity do a good turn to that poor girl? Might she not +tell Captain De Baron that it was his duty to marry her? And if he +felt it to be his duty would he not do so? It may be doubted whether +in these moments she did not think much better of Captain De Baron +than that gentleman deserved.</p> + +<p>On the next day the Manor Cross carriage came over for her. The +Dean had offered to send her, but Lord George had explained that his +mother was anxious that the carriage should come. There would be a +cart for the luggage. As to Lady George herself there was a general +feeling at Manor Cross that in the present circumstances the family +carriage should bring her home. But it came empty. "God bless +you, dearest," said the Dean as he put her into the vehicle.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, papa. I suppose you can come over and see me."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that I can. I saw none of the ladies when I was +there yesterday."</p> + +<p>"I don't care a bit for the ladies. Where I go, papa, you can come. +Of course George will see you, and you could ask for me." The Dean +smiled, and kissed her again, and then she was gone.</p> + +<p>She hardly knew what grand things were in store for her. She was +still rebelling in her heart against skirts and petticoats, and resolving +that she would not go to church twice on Sundays unless she liked it, +when the carriage drove up to the door. They were all in the hall, +all except the Marchioness. "We wouldn't go in," said Lady Amelia, +"because we didn't like to fill the carriage."</p> + +<p>"And George wanted us to send it early," said Lady Sarah, "before +we had done our work." They all kissed her affectionately, and then +she was again in her husband's arms. Mrs. Toff curtseyed to her most +respectfully. Mary observed the curtsey and reminded herself at the +moment that Mrs. Toff had never curtseyed to her before. Even the +tall footman in knee-breeches stood back with a demeanour which had +hitherto been vouchsafed only to the real ladies of the family. Who +could tell how soon that wicked Marquis would die; and then,—then +how great would not be the glory of the Dean's daughter! "Perhaps +you won't mind coming up to mamma as soon as you have got your hat +off," said Lady Susanna. "Mamma is so anxious to see you." Mary's +hat was immediately off, and she declared herself ready to go to the +Marchioness. "Mamma has had a great deal to trouble her since you +were here," said Lady Susanna, as she led the way upstairs. "She +has aged very much. You'll be kind to her, I know."</p> + +<p>"Of course I'll be kind," said Mary; "I hope I never was unkind."</p> + +<p>"She thinks so much of things now, and then she cries so often. +We do all we can to prevent her from crying, because it does make her +so weak. Beef-tea is best, we think; and then we try to get her to<!-- Page 368 --> +sleep a good deal. Mary has come, mamma. Here she is. The +carriage has only just arrived." Mary followed Lady Susanna into +the room, and the Marchioness was immediately immersed in a flood +of tears.</p> + +<p>"My darling!" she exclaimed; "my dearest, if anything can ever +make me happy again it is that you should have come back to me." +Mary kissed her mother-in-law and submitted to be kissed with a +pretty grace, as though she and the old lady had always been the +warmest, most affectionate friends. "Sit down, my love. I have had +the easy chair brought there on purpose for you. Susanna, get her +that footstool." Susanna, without moving a muscle of her face, brought +the footstool. "Now sit down, and let me look at you. I don't think +she's much changed." This was very distressing to poor Mary, who, +with all her desire to oblige the Marchioness could not bring herself to +sit down in the easy chair. "So that poor little boy has gone, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"I was so sorry to hear it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course. That was quite proper. When anybody dies we +ought to be sorry for them. I'm sure I did all I could to make things +comfortable for him. Didn't I, Susanna?"</p> + +<p>"You were quite anxious about him, mamma."</p> + +<p>"So I was,—quite anxious. I have no doubt his mother neglected +him. I always thought that. But now there will be another, won't +there?" This was a question which the mother expectant could not +answer, and in order to get over the difficulty Susanna suggested that +Mary should be allowed to go down to lunch.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, my dear. In her condition she ought not to be kept +waiting a minute. And mind, Susanna, she has bottled porter. I +spoke about it before. She should have a pint at lunch and a pint at +dinner."</p> + +<p>"I can't drink porter," said Mary, in despair.</p> + +<p>"My dear, you ought to; you ought indeed; you must. I remember +as well as if it were yesterday Sir Henry telling me it was the only +sure thing. That was before Popenjoy was born,—I mean Brotherton. +I do so hope it will be a Popenjoy, my dear." This was the last word +said to her as Mary was escaping from the room.</p> + +<p>She was not expected to make cloaks and skirts, but she was obliged +to fight against a worse servitude even than that. She almost longed +for the cloaks and skirts when day after day she was entreated to take +her place in the easy chair by the couch of the Marchioness. There +was a cruelty in refusing, but in yielding there was a crushing misery. +The Marchioness evidently thought that the future stability of the +family depended on Mary's quiescence and capability for drinking beer. +Very many lies were necessarily told her by all the family. She was +made to believe that Mary never got up before eleven; and the doctor +who came to see herself and to whose special care Mary was of course +recommended, was induced to say that it was essential that Lady<!-- Page 369 --> +George should be in the open air three hours every day. "You know +I'm not the least ill, mother," Mary said to her one day. Since these +new hopes and the necessity for such hopes had come up the Marchioness +had requested that she might be called mother by her +daughter-in-law.</p> + +<p>"No, my dear, not ill; but I remember as though it were yesterday +what Sir Henry said to me when Popenjoy was going to be +born. Of course he was Popenjoy when he was born. I don't think +they've any physicians like Sir Henry now. I do hope it'll be a +Popenjoy."</p> + +<p>"But that can't be, mother. You are forgetting."</p> + +<p>The old woman thought for a while, and then remembered the difficulty. +"No, not quite at once." Then her mind wandered again. +"But if this isn't a Popenjoy, my dear,—and it's all in the hands of +God,—then the next may be. My three first were all girls; and it was +a great trouble; but Sir Henry said the next would be a Popenjoy; +and so it was. I hope this will be a Popenjoy, because I might die +before the next." When a week of all this had been endured Mary in +her heart was glad that the sentence of expulsion from Manor Cross +still stood against her husband, feeling that six months of reiterated +longings for a Popenjoy would kill her and the possible Popenjoy also.</p> + +<p>Then came the terrible question of an immediate residence. The +month was nearly over, and Lord George had determined that he +would go up to town for a few days when the time came. Mary begged +to be taken with him, but to this he would not accede, alleging that +his sojourn there would only be temporary, till something should be +settled. "I am sure," said Mary, "your brother would dislike my +being here worse than you." That might be true, but the edict, as it +had been pronounced, had not been against her. The Marquis had +simply ordered that in the event of Lord George remaining in the +house, the house and park should be advertised for letting. "George, +I think he must be mad," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"He is sane enough to have the control of his own property."</p> + +<p>"If it is let, why shouldn't you take it?"</p> + +<p>"Where on earth should I get the money?"</p> + +<p>"Couldn't we all do it among us?"</p> + +<p>"He wouldn't let it to us; he will allow my mother and sisters to +live here for nothing; and I don't think he has said anything to Mr. +Knox about you. But I am to be banished."</p> + +<p>"He must be mad."</p> + +<p>"Mad or not, I must go."</p> + +<p>"Do,—do let me go with you! Do go to the deanery. Papa will +make it all square by coming up to us in London."</p> + +<p>"Your father has a right to be in the house in London," said Lord +George with a scowl.</p> + +<p>When the month was over he did go up to town, and saw Mr. Knox.<!-- Page 370 --> +Mr. Knox advised him to go back to Manor Cross, declaring that he +himself would take no further steps without further orders. He had +not had a line from the Marquis. He did not even know where the +Marquis was, supposing, however, that he was in his house on the lake; +but he did know that the Marchioness was not with him, as separate +application had been made to him by her Ladyship for money. "I +don't think I can do it," said Lord George. Mr. Knox shrugged his +shoulders, and again said that he saw no objection. "I should be +very slow in advertising, you know," said Mr. Knox.</p> + +<p>"But I don't think that I have a right to be in a man's house without +his leave. I don't think I am justified in staying there against his +will because he is my brother." Mr. Knox could only shrug his +shoulders.</p> + +<p>He remained up in town doing nothing, doubtful as to where he +should go and whither he should take his wife, while she was still at +Manor Cross, absolutely in the purple, but still not satisfied with her +position. She was somewhat cheered at this time by a highspirited +letter from her friend Mrs. Jones, written from Killancodlem.</p> + +<p>"We are all here," said Mrs. Jones, "and we do so wish you were +with us. I have heard of your condition at last, and of course it would +not be fit that you should be amusing yourself with wicked idle people +like us, while all the future of all the Germains is, so to say, in your +keeping. How very opportune that that poor boy should have gone +just as the other is coming! Mind that you are a good girl and take +care of yourselves. I daresay all the Germain ladies are looking after +you day and night, so that you can't misbehave very much. No more +Kappa-kappas for many a long day for you!</p> + +<p>"We have got Lord Giblet here. It was such a task! I thought +cart-ropes wouldn't have brought him? Now he is as happy as the day +is long, and like a tame cat in my hands. I really think he is very +much in love with her, and she behaves quite prettily. I took care +that Green père should come down in the middle of it, and that +clenched it. The lover didn't make the least fight when papa appeared, +but submitted himself like a sheep to the shearers. I shouldn't have +done it if I hadn't known that he wanted a wife and if I hadn't been +sure that she would make a good one. There are some men who never +really get on their legs till they're married, and never would get married +without a little help. I'm sure he'll bless me, or would do, only he'll +think after a bit that he did it all by himself.</p> + +<p>"Our friend Jack is with us, behaving very well, but not quite like +himself. There are two or three very pretty girls here, but he goes +about among them quite like a steady old man. I got him to tell me +that he'd seen you at Brotherton, and then he talked a deal of +nonsense about the good you'd do when you were Marchioness. I +don't see, my dear, why you should do more good than other people. +I hope you'll be gracious to your old friends, and keep a good house,<!-- Page 371 --> +and give nice parties. Try and make other people happy. That's the +goodness I believe in. I asked him why you were to be particularly +good, and then he talked a deal more nonsense, which I need not +repeat.</p> + +<p>"I hear very queer accounts about the Marquis. He behaved +himself at Rudham almost like anybody else, and walked into dinner +like a Christian. They say that he is all alone in Italy, and that he +won't see her. I fancy he was more hurt in that little affair than +some people will allow. Whatever it was, it served him right. Of +course I should be glad to see Lord George come to the throne. I +always tell the truth, my dear, about these things. What is the use +of lying. I shall be very glad to see Lord George a marquis,—and +then your Popenjoy will be Popenjoy.</p> + +<p>"You remember the Baroness,—your Baroness. Oh, the Baroness! +She absolutely asked me to let her come to Killancodlem. 'But I +hate disabilities and rights,' said I. She gave me to understand that +that made no difference. Then I was obliged to tell her that I hadn't +a bed left. Any little room would do for her. 'We haven't any +little rooms at Killancodlem,' said I;—and then I left her.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye. Mind you are good and take care of yourself; and, +whatever you do, let Popenjoy have a royal godfather."</p> + +<p>Then her father came over to see her. At this time Lord George +was up in town, and when her father was announced she felt that +there was no one to help her. If none of the ladies of the family +would see her father she never would be gracious to them again. +This was the turning-point. She could forgive them for the old +quarrel. She could understand that they might have found themselves +bound to take their elder brother's part at first. Then they had +quarrelled with her, too. Now they had received her back into their +favour. But she would have none of their favours, unless they would +take her father with her.</p> + +<p>She was sitting at the time in that odious arm-chair in the old lady's +room; and when Mrs. Toff brought in word that the Dean was in the +little drawing-room, Lady Susanna was also present. Mary jumped +up immediately, and knew that she was blushing. "Oh! I must go +down to papa," she said. And away she went.</p> + +<p>The Dean was in one of his best humours, and was full of Brotherton +news. Mr. Groschut had been appointed to the vicarage of Pugsty, +and would leave Brotherton within a month.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it's a good living."</p> + +<p>"About £300 a year, I believe. He's been acting not quite on the +square with a young lady, and the Bishop made him take it. It was +that or nothing." The Dean was quite delighted; and when Mary +told him something of her troubles,—how impossible she found it to +drink bottled porter,—he laughed, and bade her be of good cheer, and +told her that there were good days coming. They had been there for<!-- Page 372 --> +nearly an hour together, and Mary was becoming unhappy. If her +father were allowed to go without some recognition from the family, +she would never again be friends with those women. She was beginning +to think that she never would be friends again with any of +them, when the door opened, and Lady Sarah entered the room.</p> + +<p>The greeting was very civil on both sides. Lady Sarah could, if +she pleased, be gracious, though she was always a little grand; and +the Dean was quite willing to be pleased, if only any effort was made +to please him. Lady Sarah hoped that he would stay and dine. He +would perhaps excuse the Marchioness, as she rarely now left her +room. The Dean could not dine at Manor Cross on that day, and +then Lady Sarah asked him to come on the Thursday following.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVII" id="CHAPTER_LVII"></a>CHAPTER LVII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">MR. KNOX HEARS AGAIN FROM THE MARQUIS.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">"Do</span> come, papa," said Mary, jumping up and putting her arm +round her father's shoulders. She was more than willing to meet +them all half-way. She would sit in the arm-chair all the morning +and try to drink porter at lunch if they would receive her father +graciously. Of course she was bound to her husband. She did not +wish not to be bound to him. She was quite sure that she loved her +husband with a perfect love. But her marriage happiness could not +be complete unless her father was to make a part of the intimate +home circle of her life. She was now so animated in her request to +him, that her manner told all her little story,—not only to him, but +to Lady Sarah also.</p> + +<p>"I will say do come also," said Lady Sarah, smiling.</p> + +<p>Mary looked up at her and saw the smile. "If he were your papa," +she said, "you would be as anxious as I am." But she also smiled as +she spoke.</p> + +<p>"Even though he is not, I am anxious."</p> + +<p>"Who could refuse when so entreated? Of course I shall be delighted +to come," said the Dean. And so it was settled. Her father +was to be again made welcome at Manor Cross, and Mary thought +that she could now be happy.</p> + +<p>"It was very good of you," she whispered to Lady Sarah, as soon +as he had left them. "Of course I understand. I was very, very +sorry that he and Lord Brotherton had quarrelled. I won't say anything +now about anybody being wrong or anybody being right. But +it would be dreadful to me if papa couldn't come to see me. I don't +think you know what he is."<!-- Page 373 --></p> + +<p>"I do know that you love him very dearly."</p> + +<p>"Of course I do. There is nothing on earth he wouldn't do for +me. He is always trying to make me happy. And he'd do just as +much for George, if George would let him. You've been very good +about it, and I love you for it." Lady Sarah was quite open to the +charm of being loved. She did not talk much of such things, nor +was it compatible with her nature to make many professions of +affection. But it would be a happiness to her if this young sister-in-law, +who would no doubt sooner or later be the female head of the +house, could be taught to love her. So she kissed Mary, and then +walked demurely away, conscious that any great display of feeling +would be antagonistic to her principles.</p> + +<p>During the hour that Mary had been closeted with her father there +had been much difficulty among the ladies upstairs about the Dean. +The suggestion that he should be asked to dine had of course come +from Lady Sarah, and it fell like a little thunderbolt among them. +In the first place, what would Brotherton say? Was it not an understood +portion of the agreement under which they were allowed to live +in the house, that the Dean should not be a guest there? Lady +Susanna had even shuddered at his coming to call on his daughter, +and they had all thought it to be improper when a short time since he +had personally brought the news of Popenjoy's death to the house. +And then there was their own resentment as to that affray at Scumberg's. +They were probably inclined to agree with Lady Brabazon +that Brotherton was not quite all that he should be; but still he was +Brotherton, and the man who had nearly murdered him could not +surely be a fit guest at Manor Cross. "I don't think we can do that, +Sarah," Lady Susanna had said after a long silence. "Oh dear! +that would be very dreadful!" the Marchioness had exclaimed. Lady +Amelia had clasped her hands together and had trembled in every +limb. But Lady Sarah, who never made any suggestion without +deep thought, was always loth to abandon any that she had made. +She clung to this with many arguments. Seeing how unreasonable +Brotherton was, they could not feel themselves bound to obey +him. As to the house, while their mother lived there it must be +regarded as her house. It was out of the question that they should have +their guests dictated to them by their brother. Perhaps the Dean was +not all that a dean ought to be,—but then, who was perfect? George had +married his daughter, and it could not be right to separate the daughter +from the father. Then came the final, strong, clenching argument. +Mary would certainly be disturbed in her mind if not allowed to see +her father. Perfect tranquillity for Mary was regarded as the chief +ingredient in the cup of prosperity which, after many troubles, was +now to be re-brewed for the Germain family. If she were not allowed +to see her father, the coming Popenjoy would suffer for it. "You'd +better let him come, Susanna," said the Marchioness through her<!-- Page 374 --> +tears. Susanna had looked as stern as an old sibyl. "I really think +it will be best," said Lady Amelia. "It ought to be done," said +Lady Sarah. "I suppose you had better go to him," said the Marchioness. +"I could not see him; indeed I couldn't. But he won't +want to see me." Lady Susanna did not yield, but Lady Sarah, as +we know, went down on her mission of peace.</p> + +<p>Mary, as soon as she was alone, sat herself down to write a letter +to her husband. It was then Monday, and her father was to dine +there on Thursday. The triumph would hardly be complete unless +George would come home to receive him. Her letter was full of arguments, +full of entreaties, and full of love. Surely he might come for +one night, if he couldn't stay longer. It would be so much nicer for +her father to have a gentleman there. Such an attention would please +him so much! "I am sure he would go twice the distance if you +were coming to his house," pleaded Mary.</p> + +<p>Lord George came, and in a quiet way the dinner was a success. +The Dean made himself very agreeable. The Marchioness did not +appear, but her absence was attributed to the condition of her health. +Lady Sarah, as the great promoter of the festival, was bound to be on +her good behaviour, and Lady Amelia endeavoured to copy her elder +sister. It was not to be expected that Lady Susanna should be +cordially hospitable; but it was known that Lady Susanna was +habitually silent in company. Mary could forgive her second sister-in-law's +sullenness, understanding, as she did quite well, that she was +at this moment triumphing over Lady Susanna. Mr. Groschut was not +a favourite with any of the party at Manor Cross, and the Dean made +himself pleasant by describing the nature of the late chaplain's promotion. +"He begged the Bishop to let him off," said the Dean, +"but his Lordship was peremptory. It was Pugsty or leave the +diocese."</p> + +<p>"What had he done, papa?" asked Mary.</p> + +<p>"He had promised to marry Hawkins' daughter." Hawkins was +the Brotherton bookseller on the Low Church side. "And then he +denied the promise. Unfortunately he had written letters, and +Hawkins took them to the Bishop. I should have thought Groschut +would have been too sharp to write letters."</p> + +<p>"But what was all that to the Bishop?" asked Lord George.</p> + +<p>"The Bishop was, I think, just a little tired of him. The Bishop +is old and meek, and Mr. Groschut thought that he could domineer. +He did not quite know his man. The Bishop is old and meek, and +would have borne much. When Mr. Groschut scolded him, I fancy +that he said nothing. But he bided his time; and when Mr. Hawkins +came, then there was a decision pronounced. It was Pugsty, or +nothing."</p> + +<p>"Is Pugsty very nasty, papa?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't very nice, I fancy. It just borders on the Potteries, and<!-- Page 375 --> +the population is heavy. As he must marry the bookseller's daughter +also, the union, I fear, won't be very grateful."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why a bishop should send a bad man to any <a name="tn_pg_384"></a><!-- TN: end quote added-->parish," +suggested Lady Sarah.</p> + +<p>"What is he to do with a Groschut, when he has unfortunately got +hold of one? He couldn't be turned out to starve. The Bishop would +never have been rid of him. A small living—some such thing as +Pugsty—was almost a necessity."</p> + +<p>"But the people," said Lady Sarah. "What is to become of the +poor people?"</p> + +<p>"Let us hope they may like him. At any rate, he will be better +at Pugsty than at Brotherton." In this way the evening passed +off; and when at ten o'clock the Dean took his departure, it was +felt by every one except Lady Susanna that the proper thing had +been done.</p> + +<p>Lord George, having thus come back to Manor Cross, remained +there. He was not altogether happy in his mind; but his banishment +seemed to be so absurd a thing that he did not return to London. At +Manor Cross there was something for him to do. In London there +was nothing. And, after all, there was a question whether, as a pure +matter of right, the Marquis had the power to pronounce such a +sentence. Manor Cross no doubt belonged to him, but then so also +did Cross Hall belong for the time to his mother; and he was receiving +the rent of Cross Hall while his mother was living at Manor Cross. +Lady Sarah was quite clear that for the present they were justified in +regarding Manor Cross as belonging to them. "And who'll tell him +when he's all the way out there?" asked Mary. "I never did hear +of such a thing in all my life. What harm can you do to the house, +George?"</p> + +<p>So they went on in peace and quietness for the next three months, +during which not a single word was heard from the Marquis. They +did not even know where he was, and under the present circumstances +did not care to ask any questions of Mr. Knox. Lord George had +worn out his scruples, and was able to go about his old duties in his +old fashion. The Dean had dined there once or twice, and Lord +George on one occasion had consented to stay with his wife for a night +or two at the deanery. Things seemed to have fallen back quietly +into the old way,—as they were before the Marquis with his wife and +child had come to disturb them. Of course there was a great difference +in Mary's position. It was not only that she was about to become a +mother, but that she would do so in a very peculiar manner. Had +not the Marquis taken a wife to himself, there would always have +been the probability that he would some day do so. Had there not +been an Italian Marchioness and a little Italian Popenjoy, the ladies +at Manor Cross would still have given him credit for presenting them +with a future marchioness and a future Popenjoy at some future day.<!-- Page 376 --> +Now his turn had, as it were, gone. Another Popenjoy from that +side was not to be expected. In consequence of all this Mary was +very much exalted. They none of them now wished for another +Popenjoy from the elder branch. All their hopes were centred in +Mary. To Mary herself this importance had its drawbacks. There +was the great porter question still unsettled. The arm-chair with the +footstool still was there. And she did not like being told that a mile +and a half on the sunny side of the trees was the daily amount of +exercise which Sir Henry, nearly half a century ago, had prescribed +for ladies in her condition. But she had her husband with her, and +could, with him, be gently rebellious and affectionately disobedient. It +is a great thing, at any rate, to be somebody. In her early married days +she had felt herself to be snubbed as being merely the Dean's daughter. +Her present troubles brought a certain balm with them. No one +snubbed her now. If she had a mind for arrowroot, Mrs. Toff would +make it herself and suggest a thimbleful of brandy in it with her most +coaxing words. Cloaks and petticoats she never saw, and she was +quite at liberty to stay away from afternoon church if she pleased.</p> + +<p><a name="tn_pg_385"></a><!-- TN: quotation mark removed-->It had been decided, after many discussions on the subject, that +she and her husband should go up to town for a couple of months +after Christmas, Lady Amelia going with them to look after the porter +and arrowroot, and that in March she should be brought back to +Manor Cross with a view to her confinement. This had not been +conceded to her easily, but it had at last been conceded. She had +learned in secret from her father that he would come up to town for +a part of the time, and after that she never let the question rest till +she had carried her point. The Marchioness had been obliged to confess +that, in anticipation of her Popenjoy, Sir Henry had recommended a +change from the country to town. She did not probably remember +that Sir Henry had done so because she had been very cross at the idea +of being kept running down to the country all through May. Mary +pleaded that it was no use having a house if she were not allowed to +see it, that all her things were in London, and at last declared that +it would be very convenient to have the baby born in London. Then +the Marchioness saw that a compromise was necessary. It was not to +be endured that the future Popenjoy, the future Brotherton, should +be born in a little house in Munster Court. With many misgivings +it was at last arranged that Mary should go to London on the 18th of +January, and be brought back on the 10th of March. After many +consultations, computations, and calculations, it was considered that +the baby would be born somewhere about the 1st of April.</p> + +<p>It may be said that things at Manor Cross were quite in a halcyon +condition, when suddenly a thunderbolt fell among them. Mr. Knox +appeared one day at the house and showed to Lord George a letter +from the Marquis. It was written with his usual contempt of all +ordinary courtesy of correspondence, but with more than his usual<!-- Page 377 --> +bitterness. It declared the writer's opinion that his brother was a mean +fellow, and deserving of no trust in that he had continued to live at the +house after having been desired to leave it by its owner; and it went +on to give peremptory orders to Mr. Knox to take steps for letting the +house at once. This took place at the end of the first week in December. +Then there was a postscript to the letter in which the Marquis +suggested that Mr. Knox had better take a house for the Marchioness, +and apply Mr. Price's rent in the payment for such house. "Of +course you will consult my mother," said the postscript; "but it +should not be anywhere near Brotherton."</p> + +<p>There was an impudence as well as a cruelty about this which almost +shook the belief which Lord George still held in the position of an +elder brother. Mr. Knox was to take a house;—as though his mother +and sisters had no rights, no freedom of their own! "Of course I +will go," said he, almost pale with anger.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Knox explained his views. It was his intention to write +back to the Marquis and to decline to execute the task imposed upon +him. The care of the Marquis's property was no doubt his chief +mainstay; but there were things, he said, which he could not do. Of +course the Marquis would employ someone else, and he must look for +his bread elsewhere. But he could not, he said, bring himself to +take steps for the letting of Manor Cross as long as the Marchioness +was living there.</p> + +<p>Of course there was a terrible disturbance in the house. There +arose a great question whether the old lady should or should not be +told of this new trouble, and it was decided at last that she should +for the present be kept in the dark. Mr. Knox was of opinion that +the house never would be let, and that it would not be in his Lordship's +power to turn them out without procuring for them the use of Cross +Hall;—in which Mr. Price's newly married bride had made herself +comfortable on a lease of three years. And he was also of opinion +that the attempt made by the Marquis to banish his brother was a +piece of monstrous tyranny to which no attention should be paid. +This he said before all the younger ladies;—but to Lord George himself +he said even more. He expressed a doubt whether the Marquis +could be in his right mind, and added a whisper that the accounts of +the Marquis's health were very bad indeed. "Of course he could let +the house?" asked Lord George.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—if he can get anybody to let it for him, and anybody else +to take it. But I don't think it ever will be let. He won't quite +know what to do when he gets my letter. He can hardly change his +agent without coming to London, and he won't like to do that in the +winter. He'll write me a very savage letter, and then in a week or +two I shall answer him. I don't think I'd disturb the Marchioness if +I were you, my lord."</p> + +<p>The Marchioness was not disturbed, but Lord George again went up<!-- Page 378 --> +to London, on this occasion occupying the house in Munster Court in +solitude. His scruples were all renewed, and it was in vain that Lady +Sarah repeated to him all Mr. Knox's arguments. He had been +called a mean fellow, and the word rankled with him. He walked +about alone thinking of the absolute obedience with which in early +days he had complied with all the behests of his elder brother, and +the perfect faith with which in latter days he had regarded that +brother's interests. He went away swearing to himself that he would +never again put his foot within the domain of Manor Cross as long as +it was his brother's property. A day might come when he would return +there; but Lord George was not a man to anticipate his own +prosperity. Mary wished to accompany him; but this was not +allowed. The Marchioness inquired a dozen times why he should +go away; but there was no one who could tell her.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LVIII" id="CHAPTER_LVIII"></a>CHAPTER LVIII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">MRS. JONES' LETTER.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">A few</span> days before Christmas Mary received a long letter from her +friend Mrs. Montacute Jones. At this time there was sad trouble +again at Manor Cross. Lord George had been away for a fortnight, +and no reason for his departure had as yet been given to the Marchioness. +She had now become aware that he was not to be at home +at Christmas, and she was full of doubt, full of surmises of her own. +He must have quarrelled with his sisters! They all assured her that +there hadn't been an unpleasant word between him and any one of +them. Then he must have quarrelled with his wife! "Indeed, +indeed he has not," said Mary. "He has never quarrelled with me +and he never shall." Then why did he stay away? Business was +nonsense. Why was he going to stay away during Christmas. Then +it was necessary to tell the old lady a little fib. She was informed that +Brotherton had specially desired him to leave the house. This certainly +was a fib, as Brotherton's late order had been of a very different +nature. "I hope he hasn't done anything to offend his brother +again," said the Marchioness. "I wonder whether it's about Popenjoy!" +In the midst of her troubles the poor old woman's wits were +apt to wander.</p> + +<p>Mary too had become rather cross, thinking that as her husband +was up in town she should be allowed to be there too. But it had +been conceded by her, and by her father on her behalf, that her town +life was not to begin till after Christmas, and now she was unable to +prevail. She and the family were in this uncomfortable condition<!-- Page 379 --> +when Mrs. Montacute Jones' letter came for her consolation. As it +contained tidings, more or less accurate, concerning many persons +named in this chronicle, it shall be given entire. Mrs. Montacute +Jones was a great writer of letters, and she was wont to communicate +many details among her friends and acquaintances respecting one +another. It was one of the marvels of the day that Mrs. Jones should +have so much information; and no one could say how or whence she +got it.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<div class="start"> +<span class="letterstart">"Curry Hall, <i>December 12, 187—</i>."<br></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Curry Hall was the name of Mr. Jones' seat in Gloucestershire, +whereas, as all the world knew, Killancodlem was supposed to belong +to Mrs. Jones herself.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dearest Lady George</span>,—We have been here for the last six +weeks, quite quiet. A great deal too quiet for me, but for the three +or four winter months, I am obliged to give way a little to Mr. Jones. +We have had the Mildmays here, because they didn't seem to have any +other place to go to. But I barred the Baroness. I am told that she +is now bringing an action against Aunt Ju, who unfortunately wrote +the letter which induced the woman to come over from—wherever she +came from. Poor Aunt Ju is in a terrible state, and wants her brother +to buy the woman off,—which he will probably have to do. That's +what comes, my dear, of meddling with disabilities. I know my own +disabilities, but I never think of interfering with Providence. Mr. +Jones was made a man, and I was made a woman. So I put up +with it, and I hope you will do the same.</p> + +<p>"Mr. and Mrs. Green are here also, and remain till Christmas when +the Giblets are coming. It was the prettiest wedding in the world, +and they have been half over Europe since. I am told he's the happiest +man in the world, and the very best husband. Old Gossling +didn't like it at all, but every stick is entailed, and they say he's likely +to have gout in his stomach, so that everything will go pleasantly. +Lord Giblet himself is loud against his father, asking everybody +whether it was to be expected that in such a matter as that he +shouldn't follow his own inclination. I do hope he'll show a little +gratitude to me. But it's an ungrateful world, and they'll probably +both forget what I did for them.</p> + +<p>"And now I want to ask you your opinion about another friend. +Don't you think that Jack had better settle down with poor dear Guss? +She's here, and upon my word I think she's nearly broken-hearted. +Of course you and I know what Jack has been thinking of lately. +But when a child cries for the top brick of the chimney, it is better +to let him have some possible toy. You know what top brick he has +been crying for. But I'm sure you like him, and so do I, and I think +we might do something for him. Mr. Jones would let them a nice little +house a few miles from here at a peppercorn rent; and I suppose old<!-- Page 380 --> +Mr. Mildmay could do something. They are engaged after a fashion. +She told me all about it the other day. So I've asked him to come +down for Christmas, and have offered to put up his horses if he wants +to hunt.</p> + +<p>"And now, my dear, I want to know what you have heard about +Lord Brotherton at Manor Cross. Of course we all know the way he +has behaved to Lord George. If I were Lord George I should not pay +the slightest attention to him. But I'm told he is in a very low condition,—never +sees anybody except his courier, and never stirs out of +the house. Of course you know that he makes his wife an allowance, +and refuses to see her. From what I hear privately I really do think +that he'll not last long. What a blessing it would be! That's plain +speaking;—but it would be a blessing! Some people manage to live +so that everybody will be the better for their dying. I should break +my heart if anybody wanted me to die.</p> + +<p>"How grand it would be! The young and lovely Marchioness of +Brotherton! I'll be bound you think about it less than anybody else, +but it would be nice. I wonder whether you'd cut a poor old woman +like me, without a handle to her name. And then it would be Popenjoy +at once! Only how the bonfires wouldn't burn if it should turn out +to be only a disability after all. But we should say, better luck next +time, and send you caudle cups by the dozen. Who wouldn't send a +caudle cup to a real young lovely live Marchioness? I'll be bound +your father knows all about it, and has counted it all up a score of +times. I suppose it's over £40,000 a year since they took to working +the coal at Popenjoy, and whatever the present man has done he can't +have clipped the property. He has never gambled, and never spent +his income. Italian wives and that sort of thing don't cost so much +money as they do in England.</p> + +<p>"Pray write and tell me all about it. I shall be in town in February, +and of course shall see you. I tell Mr. Jones that I can't stand Curry +Hall for more than three months. He won't come to town till May, +and perhaps when May comes he'll have forgotten all about it. He is +very fond of sheep, but I don't think he cares for anything else, unless +he has a slight taste for pigs.</p> + + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature2">"Your affectionate friend,<br></span> +<span class="smcap presignature3">"G. Montacute Jones."<br></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>There was much in this letter that astonished Mary, something that +shocked her, but something also that pleased her. The young and +lovely Marchioness of Brotherton! Where is the woman who would +not like to be a young and lovely Marchioness, so that it had all been +come by honestly, that the husband had been married as husbands ought +to be married, and had not been caught like Lord Giblet; and she knew +that her old friend,—her old friend whom she had not yet known +for quite twelve months,—was only joking with her in that suggestion<!-- Page 381 --> +as to being cut. What a fate was this in store for her—if it really was +in store—that so early in her life she should be called upon to fill so +high a place. Then she made some resolutions in her mind that should +it be so she would be humble and meek; and a further resolution that +she would set her heart upon none of it till it was firmly her own.</p> + +<p>But it shocked her that the Marquis should be so spoken of, especially +that he should be so spoken of if he were really dying! Plain +speaking! Yes, indeed. But such plain speaking was very terrible. +This old woman could speak of another nobleman having gout in his +stomach as though that were a thing really to be desired. And then +that allusion to the Italian wife or wives! Poor Mary blushed as she +thought of it.</p> + +<p>But there was a paragraph in the letter which interested her as +much as the tidings respecting Lord Brotherton. Could it be right +that Jack De Baron should be made to marry Guss Mildmay? She +thought not, for she knew that he did not love Guss Mildmay. That +he should have wanted an impossible brick, whether the highest or +lowest brick, was very sad. When children cry for impossible bricks +they must of course be disappointed. But she hardly thought that +this would be the proper cure for his disappointment. There had been +a moment in which the same idea had suggested itself to her; but now +since her friendship with Jack had been strengthened by his conduct +in the deanery garden she thought that he might do better with himself +than be made by Mrs. Jones to marry Guss Mildmay. Of course she +could not interfere, but she hoped that something might prevent Jack +De Baron from spending his Christmas at Curry Hall. She answered +Mrs. Jones' letter very prettily. She trusted that Lord Giblet might +be happy with his wife, even though his father should get well of the +gout. She was very sorry to hear that Lord Brotherton was ill. Nothing +was known about him at Manor Cross, except that he seemed to +be very ill-natured to everybody. She was surprised that anybody +should be so ill-natured as he was. If ever she should live to fill a +high position she hoped she would be good-natured. She knew that the +people she would like best would be those who had been kind to her, +and nobody had been so kind as a certain lady named Mrs. Montacute +Jones. Then she spoke of her coming trial. "Don't joke with me +about it any more, there's a dear woman. They all flutter me here, +talking of it always, though they mean to be kind. But it seems to +me so serious. I wish that nobody would speak to me of it except +George, and he seems to think nothing about it."</p> + +<p>Then she came to the paragraph the necessity for writing which had +made her answer Mrs. Jones' letter so speedily. "I don't think you +ought to persuade anybody to marry anyone. It didn't much signify, +perhaps, with Lord Giblet, as he isn't clever, and I daresay that Miss +Green will suit him very well; but as a rule I think gentlemen should +choose for themselves. In the case you speak of I don't think he cares<!-- Page 382 --> +for her, and then they would be unhappy." She would not for +worlds have mentioned Captain De Baron's name; but she thought +that Mrs. Jones would understand her.</p> + +<p>Of course Mrs. Jones understood her,—had understood more than +Mary had intended her to understand. Christmas was over and Mary +was up in town when she received Mrs. Jones' rejoinder, but it may as +well be given here. "The child who wanted the top brick is here, and +I think will content himself with a very much less exalted morsel of +the building. I am older than you, my dear, and know better. Our +friend is a very good fellow in his way, but there is no reason why he +should not bend his neck as well as another. To you no doubt he +seems to have many graces. He has had the great grace of holding +his tongue because he appreciated your character." Mary, as she read +this, knew that even Mrs. Montacute Jones could be misinformed now +and then. "But I do not know that he is in truth more gracious than +others, and I think it quite as well that Miss Mildmay should have the +reward of her constancy."</p> + +<p>But this was after Christmas, and in the meantime other occurrences +had taken place. On the 20th of December Lord George was informed +by Mr. Knox that his brother, who was then at Naples, had been struck +by paralysis, and at Mr. Knox's advice he started off for the southern +capital of Italy. The journey was a great trouble to him, but this was +a duty which he would under no circumstances neglect. The tidings +were communicated to Manor Cross, and after due consultation, were +conveyed by Lady Sarah to her mother. The poor old lady did not +seem to be made very unhappy by them. "Of course I can't go to +him," she said; "how could I do it?" When she was told that +that was out of the question she subsided again into tranquillity, +merely seeming to think it necessary to pay increased attention to +Mary; for she was still quite alive to the fact that all this greatly increased +the chances that the baby would be Popenjoy; but even in +this the poor old lady's mind wandered much, for every now and then +she would speak of Popenjoy as though there were a living Popenjoy at +the present moment.</p> + +<p>Lord George hurried off to Naples, and found that his brother was +living at a villa about eight miles from the town. He learned in the +city, before he had made his visit, that the Marquis was better, having +recovered his speech and apparently the use of his limbs. Still being +at Naples he found himself bound to go out to the villa. He did so, +and when he was there his brother refused to see him. He endeavoured +to get what information he could from the doctor; but the +doctor was an Italian, and Lord George could not understand him. +As far as he could learn the doctor thought badly of the case; but for +the present his patient had so far recovered as to know what he was +about. Then Lord George hurried back to London, having had a most +uncomfortable journey in the snow. Come what might he didn't think<!-- Page 383 --> +that he would ever again take the trouble to pay a visit to his brother. +The whole time taken on his journey and for his sojourn in Naples was +less than three weeks, and when he returned the New Year had +commenced.</p> + +<p>He went down to Brotherton to bring his wife up to London, but met +her at the deanery, refusing to go to the house. When the Marchioness +heard of this,—and it became impossible to keep it from her,—she declared +that it was with herself that her son George must have quarrelled. +Then it was necessary to tell her the whole truth, or nearly the whole. +Brotherton had behaved so badly to his brother that Lord George had +refused to enter even the park. The poor old woman was very wretched, +feeling in some dim way that she was being robbed of both her sons. +"I don't know what I've done," she said, "that everything should be +like this. I'm sure I did all I could for them; but George never would +behave properly to his elder brother, and I don't wonder that Brotherton +feels it. Brotherton always had so much feeling. I don't know why +George should be jealous because Popenjoy was born. Why shouldn't +his elder brother have a son of his own like anybody else?" And yet +whenever she saw Mary, which she did for two or three hours every day, +she was quite alive to the coming interest. It was suggested to her that +she should be driven into Brotherton, so that she might see George at +the deanery; but her objection to go to the Dean's house was as strong +as was that of Lord George to come to his brother's.</p> + +<p>Mary was of course delighted when the hour of her escape came. It +had seemed to her that there was especial cruelty in keeping her at +Manor Cross while her husband was up in town. Her complaints on +this head had of course been checked by her husband's unexpected +journey to Naples, as to which she had hardly heard the full particulars +till she found herself in the train with him. "After going all that way +he wouldn't see you!"</p> + +<p>"He neither would see me or send me any message."</p> + +<p>"Then he must be a bad man."</p> + +<p>"He has lived a life of self-indulgence till he doesn't know how to +control a thought or a passion. It was something of that kind which +was meant when we were told about the rich man and the eye of the +needle."</p> + +<p>"But you will be a rich man soon, George."</p> + +<p>"Don't think of it, Mary; don't anticipate it. God knows I have +never longed for it. Your father longs for it."</p> + +<p>"Not for his own sake, George."</p> + +<p>"He is wrong all the same. It will not make you happier,—nor +me."</p> + +<p>"But, George, when you thought that that little boy was not +Popenjoy you were as anxious as papa to find it all out."</p> + +<p>"Right should be done," said Lord George, after a pause. "Whether +it be for weal or woe, justice should have its way. I never wished that<!-- Page 384 --> +the child should be other than what he was called; but when there +seemed to be reason for doubt I thought that it should be proved."</p> + +<p>"It will certainly come to you now, George, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Who can say? I might die to-night, and then Dick Germain, who +is a sailor somewhere, would be the next Lord Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk like that, George."</p> + +<p>"He would be if your child happened to be a girl. And Brotherton +might live ever so long. I have been so harassed by it all that I am +almost sick of the title and sick of the property. I never grudged +him anything, and see how he has treated me." Then Mary was very +gracious to him and tried to comfort him, and told him that fortune +had at any rate given him a loving wife.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LIX" id="CHAPTER_LIX"></a>CHAPTER LIX.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">BACK IN LONDON.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Mary</span> was fond of her house in Munster Court. It was her own; and +her father and Miss Tallowax between them had enabled her to make +it very pretty. The married woman who has not some pet lares of her +own is but a poor woman. Mary worshipped her little household gods +with a perfect religion, and was therefore happy in being among them +again; but she was already beginning to feel that in a certain event +she would be obliged to leave Munster Court. She knew that as +Marchioness of Brotherton she would not be allowed to live there. +There was a large brick house, with an unbroken row of six windows +on the first-floor, in St. James' Square, which she already knew as the +town house of the Marquis of Brotherton. It was, she thought, by far +the most gloomy house in the whole square. It had been uninhabited +for years, the present Marquis having neither resided there nor let it. +Her husband had never spoken to her about the house, had never, as +far as she could remember, been with her in St. James' Square. She +had enquired about it of her father, and he had once taken her through +the square, and had shown her the mansion. But that had been in the +days of the former Popenjoy, when she, at any rate, had never thought +that the dreary-looking mansion would make or mar her own comfort. +Now there had arisen a question of a delicate nature on which she had +said a word or two to her husband in her softest whisper. Might not +certain changes be made in the house at Munster Court in reference +to—well, to a nursery. A room to be baby's own she had called it. +She had thus made herself understood, though she had not said the +word which seemed to imply a plural number. "But you'll be down +at Manor Cross," said Lord George.<!-- Page 385 --></p> + +<p>"You don't mean to keep me there always."</p> + +<p>"No, not always; but when you come back to London it may be to +another house."</p> + +<p>"You don't mean St. James' Square?" But that was just what he +did mean. "I hope we shan't have to live in that prison."</p> + +<p>"It's one of the best houses in London," said Lord George, with a +certain amount of family pride. "It used to be, at least, before the +rich tradesmen had built all those palaces at South Kensington."</p> + +<p>"It's dreadfully dingy."</p> + +<p>"Because it has not been painted lately. Brotherton has never done +anything like anybody else."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't we keep this and let that place?"</p> + +<p>"Not very well. My father and grandfather, and great-grandfather +lived there. I think we had better wait a bit and see." Then she felt +sure that the glory was coming. Lord George would never have spoken +of her living in St. James' Square had he not felt almost certain that it +would soon come about.</p> + +<p>Early in February her father came to town, and he was quite certain. +"The poor wretch can't speak articulately," he said.</p> + +<p>"Who says so, papa?"</p> + +<p>"I have taken care to find out the truth. What a life! And what +a death! He is there all alone. Nobody ever sees him but an Italian +doctor. If it's a boy, my dear, he will be my lord as soon as he's +born; or for the matter of that, if it's a girl she will be my lady."</p> + +<p>"I wish it wasn't so."</p> + +<p>"You must take it all as God sends it, Mary."</p> + +<p>"They've talked about it till I'm sick of it," said Mary angrily. +Then she checked herself and added—"I don't mean you, papa; but +at Manor Cross they all flatter me now, because that poor man is dying. +If you were me you wouldn't like that."</p> + +<p>"You've got to bear it, my dear. It's the way of the world. People +at the top of the tree are always flattered. You can't expect that +Mary Lovelace and the Marchioness of Brotherton will be treated in +the same way."</p> + +<p>"Of course it made a difference when I was married."</p> + +<p>"But suppose you had married a curate in the neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>"I wish I had," said Mary wildly, "and that someone had given +him the living of Pugsty." But it all tended in the same direction. +She began to feel now that it must be, and must be soon. She +would, she told herself, endeavour to do her duty; she would be +loving to all who had been kind to her, and kind even to those who +had been unkind. To all of them at Manor Cross she would be a +real sister,—even to Lady Susanna whom certainly she had not +latterly loved. She would forgive everybody,—except one. Adelaide +Houghton she never could forgive, but Adelaide Houghton should be +her only enemy. It did not occur to her that Jack De Baron had been<!-- Page 386 --> +very nearly as wicked as Adelaide Houghton. She certainly did not +intend that Jack De Baron should be one of her enemies.</p> + +<p>When she had been in London about a week or two Jack De Baron +came to see her. She knew that he had spent his Christmas at Curry +Hall, and she knew that Guss Mildmay had also been there. That +Guss Mildmay should have accepted such an invitation was natural +enough, but she thought that Jack had been very foolish. Why should +he have gone to the house when he had known that the girl whom he +had promised to marry, but whom he did not intend to marry, was +there? And now what was to be the result? She did not think that +she could ask him; but she was almost sure that he would tell her.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you've been hunting?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes; they put up a couple of horses for me, or I couldn't have +afforded it."</p> + +<p>"She is so good-natured."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Jones! I should think she was; but I'm not quite sure that +she intended to be very good-natured to me."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Mary, of course, understood it all; but she could not +pretend to understand it, at any rate as yet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. It was all fair, and I won't complain. She had +got Miss Green off her hands, and therefore she wanted something to +do. I'm going to exchange, Lady George, into an Indian regiment."</p> + +<p>"You're not in earnest."</p> + +<p>"Quite in earnest. My wing will be at Aden, at the bottom of the Red +Sea, for the next year or two. Aden, I'm told, is a charming place."</p> + +<p>"I thought it was hot."</p> + +<p>"I like hot places; and as I have got rather sick of society I shall +do very well there, because there's none. A fellow can't spend any +money, except in soda and brandy. I suppose I shall take to drink."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk of yourself in that horrid way, Captain De Baron."</p> + +<p>"It won't much matter to any one, for I don't suppose I shall ever +come back again. There's a place called Perim, out in the middle of +the sea, which will just suit me. They only send one officer there at a +time, and there isn't another soul in the place."</p> + +<p>"How dreadful!"</p> + +<p>"I shall apply to be left there for five years. I shall get through all +my troubles by that time."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you won't go at all."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because you have got so many friends here."</p> + +<p>"Too many, Lady George. Of course you know what Mrs. Jones +has been doing?"</p> + +<p>"What has she been doing?"</p> + +<p>"She tells you everything, I fancy. She has got it all cut and dry. +I'm to be married next May, and am to spend the honeymoon at +Curry Hall. Of course I'm to leave the army and put the value of my<!-- Page 387 --> +commission into the three per cents. Mr. Jones is to let me have a +place called Clover Cottage, down in Gloucestershire, and, I believe, +I'm to take a farm and be churchwarden of the parish. After paying +my debts we shall have about two hundred a-year, which of course +will be ample for Clover Cottage. I don't exactly see how I'm to +spend my evenings, but I suppose that will come. It's either that or +Perim. Which would you advise?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what I ought to say."</p> + +<p>"Of course I might cut my throat."</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't talk in that way. If it's all a joke I'll take +it as a joke."</p> + +<p>"It's no joke at all; it's very serious. Mrs. Jones wants me to +marry Guss Mildmay."</p> + +<p>"And you are engaged to her?"</p> + +<p>"Only on certain conditions,—which conditions are almost impossible."</p> + +<p>"What did you say to—Miss Mildmay at Curry Hall?"</p> + +<p>"I told her I should go to Perim."</p> + +<p>"And what did she say?"</p> + +<p>"Like a brick, she offered to go with me, just as the girl offered to +eat the potato parings when the man said that there would not be +potatoes enough for both. Girls always say that kind of thing, though, +when they are taken at their words, they want bonnets and gloves and +fur cloaks."</p> + +<p>"And you are going to take her?"</p> + +<p>"Not unless I decide upon Clover Cottage. No; if I do go to +Perim I think that I shall manage to go alone."</p> + +<p>"If you don't love her, Captain De Baron, don't marry her."</p> + +<p>"There's Giblet doing very well, you know; and I calculate I could +spend a good deal of my time at Curry Hall. Perhaps if we made +ourselves useful, they would ask us to Killancodlem. I should +manage to be a sort of factotum to old Jones. Don't you think it +would suit me?"</p> + +<p>"You can't be serious about it."</p> + +<p>"Upon my soul, Lady George, I never was so serious in my life. Do +you think that I mean nothing because I laugh at myself? You know +I don't love her."</p> + +<p>"Then say so, and have done with it."</p> + +<p>"That is so easy to suggest, but so impossible to do. How is a man +to tell a girl that he doesn't love her after such an acquaintance as I +have had with Guss Mildmay? I have tried to do so, but I couldn't +do it. There are men, I believe, hard enough even for that; and things +are changed now, and the affectation of chivalry has gone bye. Women +ask men to marry them, and the men laugh and refuse."</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, Captain De Baron."</p> + +<p>"I'm told that's the way the thing is done now; but I've no strength<!-- Page 388 --> +myself, and I'm not up to it. I'm not at all joking. I think I shall +exchange and go away. I've brought my pigs to a bad market, but as +far as I can see that is the best that is left for me." Mary could only +say that his friends would be very—very sorry to lose him, but that in +her opinion anything would be better than marrying a girl whom he +did not love.</p> + +<p>Courtesies at this time were showered upon Lady George from all +sides. Old Lady Brabazon, to whom she had hardly spoken, wrote to +her at great length. Mrs. Patmore Green came to her on purpose to +talk about her daughter's marriage. "We are very much pleased of +course," said Mrs. Green. "It was altogether a love affair, and the +young people are so fond of each other! I do so hope you and she +will be friends. Of course her position is not so brilliant as yours, but +still it is very good. Poor dear Lord Gossling"—whom, by the bye, +Mrs. Patmore Green had never seen—"is failing very much; he is a +martyr to the gout, and then he is so imprudent."</p> + +<p>Lady Mary smiled and was civil, but did not make any promise of +peculiarly intimate friendship. Lady Selina Protest came to her with +a long story of her wrongs, and a petition that she would take the Fleabody +side in the coming contest. It was in vain that she declared that +she had no opinion whatsoever as to the rights of women; a marchioness +she was told would be bound to have opinions, or, at any rate, would +be bound to subscribe.</p> + +<p>But the courtesy which surprised and annoyed her most was a visit +from Adelaide Houghton. She came up to London for a week about +the end of February, and had the hardihood to present herself at +the house in Munster Court. This was an insult which Mary had by +no means expected; she had therefore failed to guard herself against +it by any special instructions to her servant. And thus Mrs. Houghton, +the woman who had written love-letters to her husband, was +shown up into her drawing-room before she had the means of escaping. +When the name was announced she felt that she was trembling. +There came across her a feeling that she was utterly incapable of behaving +properly in such an emergency. She knew that she blushed +up to the roots of her hair. She got up from her seat as she heard +the name announced, and then seated herself again before her visitor +had entered the room. She did resolve that nothing on earth should +induce her to shake hands with the woman. "My dear Lady +George," said Mrs. Houghton, hurrying across the room, "I hope you +will let me explain." She had half put out her hand, but had done +so in a manner which allowed her to withdraw it without seeming to +have had her overture refused.</p> + +<p>"I do not know that there is anything to explain," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"You will let me sit down?" Mary longed to refuse; but, not +quite daring to do so, simply bowed,—upon which Mrs. Houghton did +sit down. "You are very angry with me, it seems?"<!-- Page 389 --></p> + +<p>"Well;—yes, I am."</p> + +<p>"And yet what harm have I done you?"</p> + +<p>"None in the least—none at all. I never thought that you could +do me any harm."</p> + +<p>"Is it wise, Lady George, to give importance to a little trifle?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you call a trifle."</p> + +<p>"I had known him before you did; and, though it had not suited +me to become his wife, I had always liked him. Then the intimacy +sprang up again; but what did it amount to? I believe you read +some foolish letter?"</p> + +<p>"I did read a letter, and I was perfectly sure that my husband had +done nothing, I will not say to justify, but even to excuse the writing +of it. I am quite aware, Mrs. Houghton, that it was all on one +side."</p> + +<p>"Did he say so?"</p> + +<p>"You must excuse me if I decline altogether to tell you what he +said."</p> + +<p>"I am sure he did not say that. But what is the use of talking of +it all. Is it necessary, Lady George, that you and I should quarrel +about such a thing as that?"</p> + +<p>"Quite necessary, Mrs. Houghton."</p> + +<p>"Then you must be very fond of quarrelling."</p> + +<p>"I never quarrelled with anybody else in my life."</p> + +<p>"When you remember how near we are to each other in the +country——. I will apologise if you wish it."</p> + +<p>"I will remember nothing, and I want no apology. To tell you the +truth, I really think that you ought not to have come here."</p> + +<p>"It is childish, Lady George, to make so much of it."</p> + +<p>"It may be nothing to you. It is a great deal to me. You must +excuse me if I say that I really cannot talk to you any more." Then +she got up and walked out of the room, leaving Mrs. Houghton +among her treasures. In the dining-room she rang the bell and told +the servant to open the door when the lady upstairs came down. After +a very short pause, the lady upstairs did come down, and walked out +to her carriage with an unabashed demeanour.</p> + +<p>After much consideration Lady George determined that she must +tell her husband what had occurred. She was aware that she had +been very uncourteous, and was not sure whether in her anger she +had not been carried further than became her. Nothing could, she +thought, shake her in her determination to have no further friendly +intercourse of any kind with the woman. Not even were her husband +to ask her would that be possible. Such a request from him would be +almost an insult to her. And no request from anyone else could +have any strength, as no one else knew the circumstances of the case. +It was not likely that he would have spoken of it,—and of her own +silence she was quite sure. But how had it come to pass that the<!-- Page 390 --> +woman had had the face to come to her? Could it be that Lord +George had instigated her to do so? She never made enquiries of +her husband as to where he went and whom he saw. For aught that +she knew, he might be in Berkeley Square every day. Then she +called to mind Mrs. Houghton's face, with the paint visible on it in +the broad day, and her blackened eyebrows, and her great crested +helmet of false hair nearly eighteen inches deep, and her affected +voice and false manner,—and then she told herself that it was impossible +that her husband should like such a creature.</p> + +<p>"George," she said to him abruptly, as soon as he came home, +"who do you think has been here? Mrs. Houghton has been here." +Then came that old frown across his brow; but she did not know at +first whether it was occasioned by anger against herself or against +Mrs. Houghton. "Don't you think it was very unfortunate?"</p> + +<p>"What did she say?"</p> + +<p>"She wanted to be friends with me."</p> + +<p>"And what did you say?"</p> + +<p>"I was very rude to her. I told her that I would never have anything +to do with her; and then I left the room, so that she had to get +out of the house as she could. Was I not right? You don't want me +to know her, do you?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"And I was right."</p> + +<p>"Quite right. She must be a very hardened woman."</p> + +<p>"Oh George, dear George! You have made me so happy!" Then +she jumped up and threw her arms round him. "I never doubted +you for a moment—never, never; but I was afraid you might have +thought——. I don't know what I was afraid of, but I was a fool. +She is a nasty hardened creature, and I do hate her. Don't you see +how she covers herself with paint?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't seen her for the last three months."</p> + +<p>Then she kissed him again and again, foolishly betraying her past +fears. "I am almost sorry I bothered you by telling you, only I +didn't like to say nothing about it. It might have come out, and you +would have thought it odd. How a woman can be so nasty I cannot +imagine. But I will never trouble you by talking of her again. Only +I have told James that she is not to be let into the house."<!-- Page 391 --></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LX" id="CHAPTER_LX"></a>CHAPTER LX.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">THE LAST OF THE BARONESS.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">At</span> this time Dr. Olivia Q. Fleabody had become quite an institution +in London. She had obtained full though by no means undisputed +possession of the great hall in the Marylebone Road, and was undoubtedly +for the moment the Queen of the Disabilities. She lectured +twice a week to crowded benches. A seat on the platform on these +occasions was considered by all high-minded women to be an honour, +and the body of the building was always filled by strongly-visaged +spinsters and mutinous wives, who twice a week were worked up by +Dr. Fleabody to a full belief that a glorious era was at hand in which +woman would be chosen by constituencies, would wag their heads in +courts of law, would buy and sell in Capel Court, and have balances +at their banker's. It was certainly the case that Dr. Fleabody had +made proselytes by the hundred, and disturbed the happiness of many +fathers of families.</p> + +<p>It may easily be conceived that all this was gall and wormwood to +the Baroness Banmann. The Baroness, on her arrival in London, +had anticipated the success which this low-bred American female had +achieved. It was not simply the honour of the thing,—which was +very great and would have been very dear to the Baroness,—but the +American Doctor was making a rapid fortune out of the proceeds of +the hall. She had on one occasion threatened to strike lecturing +unless she were allowed a certain very large percentage on the sum +taken at the doors, and the stewards and directors of the Institute +had found themselves compelled to give way to her demands. She +had consequently lodged herself magnificently at the Langham Hotel, +had set up her brougham, in which she always had herself driven to +the Institute, and was asked out to dinner three or four times a week; +whereas the Baroness was in a very poor condition. She had indeed +succeeded in getting herself invited to Mr. De Baron's house, and +from time to time raised a little money from those who were unfortunate +enough to come in her way. But she was sensible of her own +degradation, and at the same time quite assured that as a preacher on +women's rights at large she could teach lessons infinitely superior to +anything that had come from that impudent but imbecile American.</p> + +<p>She had undoubtedly received overtures from the directors of the +Institute of whom poor Aunt Ju had for the moment been the +spokeswoman, and in these overtures it had been intimated to her that +the directors would be happy to remunerate her for her trouble should +the money collected at the hall enable them to do so. The Baroness +believed that enormous sums had been received, and was loud in +assuring all her friends that this popularity had in the first place been<!-- Page 392 --> +produced by her own exertions. At any rate, she was resolved to +seek redress at law, and at last had been advised to proceed conjointly +against Aunt Ju, Lady Selina Protest, and the bald-headed old gentleman. +The business had now been brought into proper form, and +the trial was to take place in March.</p> + +<p>All this was the cause of much trouble to poor Mary, and of very +great vexation to Lord George. When the feud was first becoming +furious, an enormous advertisement was issued by Dr. Fleabody's +friends, in which her cause was advocated and her claims recapitulated. +And to this was appended a list of the nobility, gentry, and +people of England who supported the Disabilities generally and her +cause in particular. Among these names, which were very numerous, +appeared that of Lady George Germain. This might probably have +escaped both her notice and her husband's, had not the paper been +sent to her, with usual friendly zeal, by old Lady Brabazon. "Oh +George," she said, "look here. What right have they to say so? I +never patronised anything. I went there once when I came to London +first, because Miss Mildmay asked me."</p> + +<p>"You should not have gone," said he.</p> + +<p>"We have had all that before, and you need not scold me again. +There couldn't be any great harm in going to hear a lecture." This +occurred just previous to her going down to Manor Cross,—that +journey which was to be made for so important an object.</p> + +<p>Then Lord George did—just what he ought not to have done. He +wrote an angry letter to Miss Fleabody, as he called her, complaining +bitterly of the insertion of his wife's name. Dr. Fleabody was quite +clever enough to make fresh capital out of this. She withdrew the +name, explaining that she had been ordered to do so by the lady's +husband, and implying that thereby additional evidence was supplied +that the Disabilities of Women were absolutely crushing to the sex in +England. Mary, when she saw this,—and the paper did not reach +her till she was at Manor Cross,—was violent in her anxiety to write +herself, in her own name, and disclaim all disabilities; but her +husband by this time had been advised to have nothing further to do +with Dr. Fleabody, and Mary was forced to keep her indignation to +herself.</p> + +<p>But worse than this followed the annoyance of the advertisement. +A man came all the way down from London for the purpose of serving +Lady George with a subpœna to give evidence at the trial on the part +of the Baroness. Lord George was up in London at the time, never +having entered the house at Manor Cross, or even the park, since his +visit to Italy. The consternation of the ladies may be imagined. Poor +Mary was certainly not in a condition to go into a court of law, and +would be less so on the day fixed for the trial. And yet this awful +document seemed to her and to her sisters-in-law to be so imperative +as to admit of no escape. It was in vain that Lady Sarah, with con<!-- Page 393 -->siderable +circumlocution, endeavoured to explain to the messenger the +true state of the case. The man could simply say that he was only a +messenger, and had now done his work. Looked at in any light, the +thing was very terrible. Lord George might probably even yet be +able to run away with her to some obscure corner of the continent in +which messengers from the Queen's judges would not be able to find +her; and she might perhaps bear the journey without injury. But +then what would become of a baby—perhaps of a Popenjoy—so born? +There were many who still thought that the Marquis would go before +the baby came; and, in that case, the baby would at once be a Popenjoy. +What a condition was this for a Marchioness to be in at the +moment of the birth of her eldest child! "But I don't know anything +about the nasty women!" said Mary, through her tears.</p> + +<p>"It is such a pity that you should ever have gone," said Lady +Susanna, shaking her head.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't wicked to go," said Mary, "and I won't be scolded +about it any more. You went to a lecture yourself when you were in +town, and they might just as well have sent for you."</p> + +<p>Lady Sarah promised her that she should not be scolded, and was +very keen in thinking what steps had better be taken. Mary wished +to run off to the deanery at once, but was told that she had better not +do so till an answer had come to the letter which was of course written +by that day's post to Lord George. There were still ten days to the +trial, and twenty days, by computation, to the great event. There +were, of course, various letters written to Lord George. Lady Sarah +wrote very sensibly, suggesting that he should go to Mr. Stokes, the +family lawyer. Lady Susanna was full of the original sin of that unfortunate +visit to the Disabilities. She was, however, of opinion that +if Mary was concealed in a certain room at Manor Cross, which might +she thought be sufficiently warmed and ventilated for health, the +judges of the Queen's Bench would never be able to find her. The +baby in that case would have been born at Manor Cross, and posterity +would know nothing about the room. Mary's letter was almost +hysterically miserable. She knew nothing about the horrid people. +What did they want her to say? All she had done was to go to a +lecture, and to give the wicked woman a guinea. Wouldn't George +come and take her away. She wouldn't care where she went. Nothing +on earth should make her go up and stand before the judges. It was, +she said, very cruel, and she did hope that George would come to her +at once. If he didn't come she thought that she would die.</p> + +<p>Nothing, of course, was said to the Marchioness, but it was found +impossible to keep the matter from Mrs. Toff. Mrs. Toff was of +opinion that the bit of paper should be burned, and that no further +notice should be taken of the matter at all. "If they don't go +they has to pay £10," said Mrs. Toff with great authority,—Mrs. +Toff remembering that a brother of hers, who had "forgotten<!-- Page 394 --> +himself in liquor" at the Brotherton assizes, had been fined £10 for not +answering to his name as a juryman. "And then they don't really have +to pay it," said Mrs. Toff, who remembered also that the good-natured +judge had not at last exacted the penalty. But Lady Sarah could +not look at the matter in that light. She was sure that if a witness +were really wanted, that witness could not escape by paying a fine.</p> + +<p>The next morning there came a heartrending letter from Aunt Ju. +She was very sorry that Lady George should have been so troubled;—but +then let them think of her trouble, of her misery! She was quite +sure that it would kill her,—and it would certainly ruin her. That +odious Baroness had summoned everybody that had ever befriended +her. Captain De Baron had been summoned, and the Marquis, and +Mrs. Montacute Jones. And the whole expense, according to Aunt +Ju, would fall upon her; for it seemed to be the opinion of the lawyers +that she had hired the Baroness. Then she said some very severe +things against the Disabilities generally. There was that woman Fleabody +making a fortune in their hall, and would take none of this +expense upon herself. She thought that such things should be left to +men, who after all were not so mean as women;—so, at least, said +Aunt Ju.</p> + +<p>And then there was new cause for wonderment. Lord Brotherton +had been summoned, and would Lord Brotherton come? They all +believed that he was dying, and, if so, surely he could not be made to +come. "But is it not horrible," said Lady Susanna, "that people of +rank should be made subject to such an annoyance! If anybody can +summon anybody, nobody can ever be sure of herself!"</p> + +<p>On the next morning Lord George himself came down to Brotherton, +and Mary with a carriage full of precautions, was sent into the deanery +to meet him. The Marchioness discovered that the journey was to be +made, and was full of misgivings and full of enquiries. In her present +condition, the mother expectant ought not to be allowed to make any +journey at all. The Marchioness remembered how Sir Henry had told +her, before Popenjoy was born, that all carriage exercise was bad. +And why should she go to the deanery? Who could say whether the +Dean would let her come away again? What a feather it would be in +the Dean's cap if the next Popenjoy were born at the deanery. It +was explained to her that in no other way could she see her husband. +Then the poor old woman was once more loud in denouncing the misconduct +of her youngest son to the head of the family.</p> + +<p>Mary made the journey in perfect safety, and then was able to tell +her father the whole story. "I never heard of anything so absurd in +my life," said the Dean.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I must go, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Not a yard."</p> + +<p>"But won't they come and fetch me?"</p> + +<p>"Fetch you? No."<!-- Page 395 --></p> + +<p>"Does it mean nothing."</p> + +<p>"Very little. They won't attempt to examine half the people they +have summoned. That Baroness probably thinks that she will get +money out of you. If the worst comes to the worst, you must send a +medical certificate."</p> + +<p>"Will that do?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it will. When George is here we will get Dr. Loftly, and +he will make it straight for us. You need not trouble yourself about +it at all. Those women at Manor Cross are old enough to have known +better."</p> + +<p>Lord George came and was very angry. He quite agreed as to Dr. +Loftly, who was sent for, and who did give a certificate,—and who +took upon himself to assure Lady George that all the judges in the +land could not enforce her attendance as long as she had that certificate +in her hands. But Lord George was vexed beyond measure that +his wife's name should have been called in question, and could not +refrain himself from a cross word or two. "It was so imprudent your +going to such a place!"</p> + +<p>"Oh George, are we to have that all again?"</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't she have gone?" asked the Dean.</p> + +<p>"Are you in favour of rights of women?"</p> + +<p>"Not particularly;—though if there be any rights which they +haven't got, I thoroughly wish that they might get them. I certainly +don't believe in the Baroness Banmann, nor yet in Dr. Fleabody; but +I don't think they could have been wrong in going in good company +to hear what a crazy old woman might have to say."</p> + +<p>"It was very foolish," said Lord George. "See what has come +of it!"</p> + +<p>"How could I tell, George? I thought you had promised that you +wouldn't scold any more. Nasty fat old woman! I'm sure I didn't +want to hear her." Then Lord George went back to town with the +medical certificate in his pocket, and Mary, being in her present condition, +afraid of the authorities, was unable to stay and be happy even +for one evening with her father.</p> + +<p>During the month the Disabilities created a considerable interest +throughout London, of which Dr. Fleabody reaped the full advantage. +The Baroness was so loud in her clamours that she forced the +question of the Disabilities on the public mind generally, and the +result was that the world flocked to the Institute. The Baroness, as +she heard of this, became louder and louder. It was not this that she +wanted. Those who wished to sympathise with her should send her +money,—not go to the hall to hear that loud imbecile American +female! The Baroness, when she desired to be-little the doctor, +always called her a female. And the Baroness, though in truth she +was not personally attractive, did contrive to surround herself with +supporters, and in these days moved into comfortable lodgings in<!-- Page 396 --> +Wigmore Street. Very few were heard to speak in her favour, but +they who contributed to the relief of her necessities were many. It +was found to be almost impossible to escape from her without leaving +some amount of money in her hands. And then, in a happy hour, +she came at last across an old gentleman who did appreciate her and +her wrongs. How it was that she got an introduction to Mr. Philogunac +Cœlebs was not, I think, ever known. It is not improbable +that having heard of his soft heart, his peculiar propensities, and his +wealth, she contrived to introduce herself. It was, however, suddenly +understood that Mr. Philogunac Cœlebs, who was a bachelor and very rich, +had taken her by the hand, and intended to bear all the expenses +of the trial. It was after the general intimation which had +been made to the world in this matter that the summons for Lady +Mary had been sent down to Manor Cross.</p> + +<p>And now in these halcyon days of March the Baroness also had her +brougham and was to be seen everywhere. How she did work! The +attornies who had the case in hands, found themselves unable to +secure themselves against her. She insisted on seeing the barristers, +and absolutely did work her way into the chambers of that discreet +junior Mr. Stuffenruff. She was full of her case, full of her coming +triumph. She would teach women like Miss Julia Mildmay and Lady +Selina Protest what it was to bamboozle a Baroness of the Holy Roman +Empire! And as for the American female——.</p> + +<p>"You'll put her pipe out," suggested Mr. Philogunac Cœlebs, who +was not superior to a mild joke.</p> + +<p>"Stop her from piping altogether in dis contry," said the Baroness, +who in the midst of her wrath and zeal and labour was superior to all +jokes.</p> + +<p>Two days before that fixed for the trial there fell a great blow upon +those who were interested in the matter;—a blow that was heavy on +Mr. Cœlebs but heavier still on the attornies. The Baroness had taken +herself off, and when enquiries were made it was found that she was +at Madrid. Mr. Snape, one of the lawyers, was the person who first +informed Mr. Cœlebs, and did so in a manner which clearly implied +that he expected Mr. Cœlebs to pay the bill. Then Mr. Snape encountered +a terrible disappointment, and Mr. Cœlebs was driven to confess +his own disgrace. He had, he said, never undertaken to pay the cost +of the trial, but he had, unfortunately, given the lady a thousand +pounds to enable her to pay the expenses herself. Mr. Snape, expostulated, +and, later on, urged with much persistency, that Mr. Cœlebs +had more than once attended in person at the office of Messrs. Snape +and Cashett. But in this matter the lawyers did not prevail. They +had taken their orders from the lady, and must look to the lady for +payment. They who best knew Mr. Philogunac Cœlebs thought that +he had escaped cheaply, as there had been many fears that he should +make the Baroness altogether his own.<!-- Page 397 --></p> + +<p>"I am so glad she has gone," said Mary, when she heard the story. +"I should never have felt safe while that woman was in the country. +I'm quite sure of one thing. I'll never have anything more to do with +disabilities. George need not be afraid about that."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXI" id="CHAPTER_LXI"></a>CHAPTER LXI.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">THE NEWS COMES HOME.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">During</span> those last days of the glory of the Baroness, when she was +driving about London under the auspices of Philogunac Cœlebs in her +private brougham and talking to everyone of the certainty of her +coming success, Lord George Germain was not in London either to +hear or to see what was going on. He had gone again to Naples, +having received a letter from the British Consul there telling him that +his brother was certainly dying. The reader will understand that he +must have been most unwilling to take this journey. He at first refused +to do so, alleging that his brother's conduct to him had severed +all ties between them; but at last he allowed himself to be persuaded +by the joint efforts of Mr. Knox, Mr. Stokes, and Lady Sarah, who +actually came up to London herself for the purpose of inducing him +to take the journey. "He is not only your brother," said Lady +Sarah, "but the head of your family as well. It is not for the honour +of the family that he should pass away without having someone belonging +to him at the last moment." When Lord George argued that +he would in all probability be too late, Lady Sarah explained that the +last moments of a Marquis of Brotherton could not have come as long +as his body was above ground.</p> + +<p>So urged the poor man started again, and found his brother still +alive, but senseless. This was towards the end of March, and it is +hoped that the reader will remember the event which was to take place +on the 1st of April. The coincidence of the two things added of course +very greatly to his annoyance. Telegrams might come to him twice +a-day, but no telegram could bring him back in a flash when the +moment of peril should arrive, or enable him to enjoy the rapture of +standing at his wife's bedside when that peril should be over. He felt +as he went away from his brother's villa to the nearest hotel,—for he +would not sleep nor eat in the villa,—that he was a man marked out +for misfortune. When he returned to the villa on the next morning +the Marquis of Brotherton was no more. His Lordship had died in +the 44th year of his age, on the 30th March, 187—.</p> + +<p>The Marquis of Brotherton was dead, and Lord George Germain was +Marquis of Brotherton, and would be so called by all the world as soon<!-- Page 398 --> +as his brother was decently hidden under the ground. It concerns our +story now to say that Mary Lovelace was Marchioness of Brotherton, +and that the Dean of Brotherton was the father-in-law of a Marquis, +and would, in all probability, be the progenitor of a long line of +Marquises. Lord George, as soon as the event was known, caused +telegrams to be sent to Mr. Knox, to Lady Sarah,—and to the Dean. +He had hesitated about the last, but his better nature at last prevailed. +He was well aware that no one was so anxious as the Dean, and though +he disliked and condemned the Dean's anxiety, he remembered that +the Dean had at any rate been a loving father to his wife, and a very +liberal father-in-law.</p> + +<p>Mr. Knox, when he received the news, went at once to Mr. Stokes, +and the two gentlemen were not long in agreeing that a very troublesome +and useless person had been removed out of the world. "Oh, +yes; there's a will," said Mr. Stokes in answer to an enquiry from Mr. +Knox, "made while he was in London the other day, just before he +started,—as bad a will as a man could make; but he couldn't do very +much harm. Every acre was entailed."</p> + +<p>"How about the house in town?" asked Mr. Knox.</p> + +<p>"Entailed on the baby about to be born, if he happens to be a +boy."</p> + +<p>"He didn't spend his income?" suggested Mr. Knox.</p> + +<p>"He muddled a lot of money away; but since the coal came up he +couldn't spend it all, I should say."</p> + +<p>"Who gets it?" asked Mr. Knox, laughing.</p> + +<p>"We shall see that when the will is read," said the attorney with a +smile.</p> + +<p>The news was brought out to Lady Sarah as quick as the very +wretched pony which served for the Brotherton telegraph express could +bring it. The hour which was lost in getting the pony ready, perhaps, +did not signify much. Lady Sarah, at the moment, was busy with her +needle, and her sisters were with her. "What is it?" said Lady +Susanna, jumping up. Lady Sarah, with cruel delay, kept the telegram +for a moment in her hand. "Do open it," said Lady Amelia; +"is it from George? Pray open it;—pray do!" Lady Sarah, feeling +certain of the contents of the envelope, and knowing the importance +of the news, slowly opened the cover. "It is all over," she said, +"Poor Brotherton!" Lady Amelia burst into tears. "He was never +so very unkind to me," said Lady Susanna, with her handkerchief up +to her eyes. "I cannot say that he was good to me," said Lady Sarah, +"but it may be that I was hard to him. May God Almighty forgive +him all that he did amiss!"</p> + +<p>Then there was a consultation held, and it was decided that Mary +and the Marchioness must both be told at once. "Mamma will be +dreadfully cut up," said Lady Susanna. Then Lady Amelia suggested +that their mother's attention should be at once drawn off to Mary's<!-- Page 399 --> +condition, for the Marchioness at this time was much worried in her +feelings about Mary,—as to whom it now seemed that some error must +have been made. The calculations had not been altogether exact. So +at least, judging from Mary's condition, they all now thought at Manor +Cross. Mrs. Toff was quite sure, and the Marchioness was perplexed +in her memory as to certain positive information which had been +whispered into her ear by Sir Henry just before the birth of that +unfortunate Popenjoy, who was now lying dead as Lord Brotherton at +Naples.</p> + +<p>The telegram had arrived in the afternoon at the hour in which +Mary was accustomed to sit in the easy chair with the Marchioness. +The penalty had now been reduced to an hour a day, and this, as it +happened, was the hour. The Marchioness had been wandering a good +deal in her mind. From time to time she expressed her opinion that +Brotherton would get well and would come back; and she would then +tell Mary how she ought to urge her husband to behave well to his elder +brother, always asserting that George had been stiff-necked and perverse. +But in the midst of all this she would refer every minute to +Mary's coming baby as the coming Popenjoy—not a possible Popenjoy +at some future time, but the immediate Popenjoy of the hour,—to be +born a Popenjoy! Poor Mary, in answer to all this, would agree with +everything. She never contradicted the old lady, but sat longing that +the hour might come to an end.</p> + +<p>Lady Sarah entered the room, followed by her two sisters. "Is +there any news?" asked Mary.</p> + +<p>"Has Brotherton come back?" demanded the Marchioness.</p> + +<p>"Dear mamma!" said Lady Sarah;—and she went up and knelt +down before her mother and took her hand.</p> + +<p>"Where is he?" asked the Marchioness.</p> + +<p>"Dear mamma! He has gone away,—beyond all trouble."</p> + +<p>"Who has gone away?"</p> + +<p>"Brotherton is—dead, mamma. This is a telegram from George." +The old woman looked bewildered, as though she did not as yet quite +comprehend what had been said to her. "You know," continued +Lady Sarah, "that he was so ill that we all expected this."</p> + +<p>"Expected what?"</p> + +<p>"That my brother could not live."</p> + +<p>"Where is George? What has George done? If George had gone +to him——. Oh me! Dead! He is not dead! And what has become +of the child?"</p> + +<p>"You should think of Mary, mamma."</p> + +<p>"My dear, of course I think of you. I am thinking of nothing else. +I should say it would be Friday. Sarah,—you don't mean to say that +Brotherton is—dead?" Lady Sarah merely pressed her mother's +hand and looked into the old lady's face. "Why did not they let me +go to him? And is Popenjoy dead also?"<!-- Page 400 --></p> + +<p>"Dear mamma, don't you remember?" said Lady Susanna.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I remember. George was determined it should be so. Ah +me!—ah me! Why should I have lived to hear this!" After that it +was in vain that they told her of Mary and of the baby that was about +to be born. She wept herself into hysterics,—was taken away and +put to bed; and then soon wept herself asleep.</p> + +<p>Mary during all this had said not a word. She had felt that the +moment of her exaltation,—the moment in which she had become the +mistress of the house and of everything around it,—was not a time in +which she could dare even to speak to the bereaved mother. But +when the two younger sisters had gone away with the Marchioness, +she asked after her husband. Then Lady Sarah showed her +the telegram in which Lord George, after communicating the death +of his brother, had simply said that he should himself return +home as quickly as possible. "It has come very quick," said Lady +Sarah.</p> + +<p>"What has come!"</p> + +<p>"Your position, Mary. I hope,—I hope you will bear it well."</p> + +<p>"I hope so," said Mary, almost sullenly. But she was awestruck, +and not sullen.</p> + +<p>"It will all be yours now,—the rank, the wealth, the position, the +power of spending money, and tribes of friends anxious to share your +prosperity. Hitherto you have only seen the gloom of this place, which +to you has of course been dull. Now it will be lighted up, and you +can make it gay enough."</p> + +<p>"This is not a time to think of gaiety," said Mary.</p> + +<p>"Poor Brotherton was nothing to you. I do not think you ever +saw him."</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"He was nothing to you. You cannot mourn."</p> + +<p>"I do mourn. I wish he had lived. I wish the boy had lived. If +you have thought that I wanted all this, you have done me wrong. +I have wanted nothing but to have George to live with me. If anybody +thinks that I married him because all this might come,—oh, +they do not know me."</p> + +<p>"I know you, Mary."</p> + +<p>"Then you will not believe that."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe it. I have never believed it. I know that you +are good and disinterested and true of heart. I have loved you dearly +and more dearly as I have seen you every day. But Mary, you are +fond of what the world calls—pleasure."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mary, after a pause, "I am fond of pleasure. Why +not? I hope I am not fond of doing harm to anyone."</p> + +<p>"If you will only remember how great are your duties. You may +have children to whom you may do harm. You have a husband, who +will now have many cares, and to whom much harm may be done.<!-- Page 401 --> +Among women you will be the head of a noble family, and may grace +or disgrace them all by your conduct."</p> + +<p>"I will never disgrace them," she said proudly.</p> + +<p>"Not openly, not manifestly I am sure. Do you think that there +are no temptations in your way?"</p> + +<p>"Everybody has temptations."</p> + +<p>"Who will have more than you? Have you thought that every +tenant, every labourer on the estate will have a claim on you?"</p> + +<p>"How can I have thought of anything yet?"</p> + +<p>"Don't be angry with me, dear, if I bid you think of it. I think +of it,—more I know than I ought to do. I have been so placed +that I could do but little good and little harm to others than +myself. The females of a family such as ours, unless they marry, +are very insignificant in the world. You who but a few years ago +were a little school girl in Brotherton have now been put over all +our heads."</p> + +<p>"I didn't want to be put over anybody's head."</p> + +<p>"Fortune has done it for you, and your own attractions. But +I was going to say that little as has been my power and low as is my +condition, I have loved the family and striven to maintain its respectability. +There is not, I think, a face on the estate I do not know. +I shall have to go now and see them no more."</p> + +<p>"Why should you go?"</p> + +<p>"It will probably be proper. No married man likes to have his +unmarried sisters in his house."</p> + +<p>"I shall like you. You shall never go."</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall go with mamma and the others. But I would +have you sometimes think of me and those I have cared for, and I +would have you bear in mind that the Marchioness of Brotherton +should have more to do than to amuse herself."</p> + +<p>Whatever assurances Mary might have made or have declined to +make in answer to this were stopped by the entrance of a servant, +who came to inform Lady George that her father was below. The +Dean too had received his telegram, and had at once ridden over to +greet the new Marchioness of Brotherton.</p> + +<p>Of all those who first heard the news, the Dean's feelings were by +far the strongest. It cannot be said of any of the Germains that there +was sincere and abiding grief at the death of the late Marquis. The +poor mother was in such a state, was mentally so weak, that she was +in truth no longer capable of strong grief or strong joy. And the +man had been, not only so bad but so injurious also, to all connected +with him,—had contrived of late to make his whole family so uncomfortable,—that +he had worn out even that enduring love which comes +of custom. He had been a blister to them,—assuring them constantly +that he would ever be a blister; and they could not weep in their +hearts because the blister was removed. But neither did they rejoice.<!-- Page 402 --> +Mary, when, in her simple language, she had said that she did not +want it, had spoken the plain truth. Munster Court, with her husband's +love and the power to go to Mrs. Jones' parties, sufficed for +her ambition. That her husband should be gentle with her, should +caress her as well as love her, was all the world to her. She feared +rather than coveted the title of Marchioness, and dreaded that +gloomy house in the Square with all her heart. But to the Dean the +triumph was a triumph indeed and the joy was a joy! He had set +his heart upon it from the first moment in which Lord George had +been spoken of as a suitor for his daughter's hand,—looking forward +to it with the assured hope of a very sanguine man. The late Marquis +had been much younger than he, but he calculated that his own life +had been wholesome while that of the Marquis was the reverse. +Then had come the tidings of the Marquis' marriage. That had been +bad;—but he had again told himself how probable it was that the +Marquis should have no son. And then the Lord had brought home a +son. All suddenly there had come to him the tidings that a brat called +Popenjoy,—a brat who in life would crush all his hopes,—was already +in the house at Manor Cross! He would not for a moment believe in +the brat. He would prove that the boy was not Popenjoy, though +he should have to spend his last shilling in doing so. He had set +his heart upon the prize, and he would allow nothing to stand in +his way.</p> + +<p>And now the prize had come before his daughter had been two +years married, before the grandchild was born on whose head was to +be accumulated all these honours! There was no longer any doubt. +The Marquis was gone, and that false Popenjoy was gone; and his +daughter was the wife of the reigning Lord, and the child,—his grandchild,—was +about to be born. He was sure that the child would be +a boy! But even were a girl the eldest, there would be time enough +for boys after that. There surely would be a real Popenjoy before +long.</p> + +<p>And what was he to gain,—he himself? He often asked himself the +question, but could always answer it satisfactorily. He had risen +above his father's station by his own intellect and industry so high as +to be able to exalt his daughter among the highest in the land. He +could hardly have become a Marquis himself. That career could not +have been open to him; but a sufficiency of the sweets of the peerage +would be his own if he could see his daughter a Marchioness. And +now that was her rank. Fate could not take it away from her. Though +Lord George were to die to-morrow, she would still be a Marchioness, +and the coming boy, his grandson, would be the Marquis. He himself +was young for his age. He might yet live to hear his grandson +make a speech in the House of Commons as Lord Popenjoy.</p> + +<p>He had been out about the city and received the telegram at three +o'clock. He felt at the moment intensely grateful to Lord George for<!-- Page 403 --> +having sent it;—as he would have been full of wrath had none been +sent to him. There was no reference to "Poor Brotherton!" on his +tongue; no reference to "Poor Brotherton!" in his heart. The man +had grossly maligned his daughter to his own ears, had insulted him +with bitter malignity, and was his enemy. He did not pretend to +himself that he felt either sorrow or pity. The man had been a +wretch and his enemy and was now dead; and he was thoroughly +glad that the wretch was out of his way. "Marchioness of Brotherton!" +he said to himself, as he rested for a few minutes alone in his +study. He stood with his hands in his pockets, looking up at the +ceiling, and realizing it all. Yes; all that was quite true which had +been said to himself more than once. He had begun his life as a +stable-boy. He could remember the time when his father touched his +hat to everybody that came into the yard. Nevertheless he was Dean +of Brotherton,—and so much a Dean as to have got the better of all +enemies in the Close. And his daughter was Marchioness of Brotherton. +She would be Mary to him, and would administer to his little +comforts when men descended from the comrades of William the +Conqueror would treat her with semi-regal respect. He told himself +that he was sure of his daughter.</p> + +<p>Then he ordered his horse, and started off to ride to Manor Cross. +He did not doubt but that she knew it already, but still it was necessary +that she should hear it from his lips and he from hers. As he rode +proudly beneath the Manor Cross oaks he told himself again and again +that they would all belong to his grandson.</p> + +<p>When the Dean was announced Mary almost feared to see him,—or +rather feared that expression of triumph which would certainly be +made both by his words and manner. All that Lady Sarah had said +had entered into her mind. There were duties incumbent on her +which would be very heavy, for which she felt that she could hardly +be fit,—and the first of these duties was to abstain from pride as to +her own station in life. But her father she knew would be very proud, +and would almost demand pride from her. She hurried down to him +nevertheless. Were she ten times a Marchioness, next to her husband +her care would be due to him. What daughter had ever been beloved +more tenderly than she? Administer to him! Oh yes, she +would do that as she had always done. She rushed into his arms in +the little parlour and then burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"My girl," he said, "I congratulate you."</p> + +<p>"No;—no, no."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes. Is it not better in all ways that it should be so? +I do congratulate you. Hold up your head, dear, and bear it well."</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa, I shall never bear it well."</p> + +<p>"No woman that was ever born has, I believe, borne it better than +you will. No woman was ever more fit to grace a high position. My +own girl!"<!-- Page 404 --></p> + +<p>"Yes, papa, your own girl. But I wish,—I wish——"</p> + +<p>"All that I have wished has come about." She shuddered as she +heard these words, remembering that two deaths had been necessary for +this fruition of his desires. But he repeated his words. "All that I +have wished has come about. And, Mary, let me tell you this;—you +should in no wise be afraid of it, nor should you allow yourself to +think of it as though there were anything to be regretted. Which do +you believe would make the better peer; your husband or that man +who has died?"</p> + +<p>"Of course George is ten times the best."</p> + +<p>"Otherwise he would be very bad. But no degree of comparison +would express the difference. Your husband will add an honour to +his rank." She took his hand and kissed it as he said this,—which +certainly would not have been said had not that telegram come direct +to the deanery. "And, looking to the future, which would probably +make the better peer in coming years;—the child born of that man +and woman, and bred by them as they would have bred it, or your +child,—yours and your husband's? And here, in the country,—from +which lord would the tenants receive the stricter justice, and +the people the more enduring kindness? Don't you know that +he disgraced his order, and that the woman was unfit to bear +the name which rightly or wrongly she had assumed? You will +be fit."</p> + +<p>"No, papa."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, dear. I am praising myself rather than you when I +say,—yes. But though I praise myself it is a matter as to which I +have no shadow of doubt. There can be nothing to regret,—no cause +for sorrow. With the inmates of this house custom demands the +decency of outward mourning;—but there can be no grief of heart. +The man was a wild beast, destroying everybody and everything that +came near him. Only think how he treated your husband."</p> + +<p>"He is dead, papa!"</p> + +<p>"I thank God that he has gone. I cannot bring myself to lie about +it. I hate such lying. To me it is unmanly. Grief or joy, regrets +or satisfaction, when expressed, should always be true. It is a grand +thing to rise in the world. The ambition to do so is the very salt of +the earth. It is the parent of all enterprise, and the cause of all improvement. +They who know no such ambition are savages and +remain savage. As far as I can see, among us Englishmen such ambition +is healthily and happily almost universal, and on that account +we stand high among the citizens of the world. But, owing to false +teaching, men are afraid to own aloud a truth which is known to their +own hearts. I am not afraid to do so and I would not have you +afraid. I am proud that by one step after another I have been able +so to place you and so to form you that you should have been found +worthy of rank much higher than my own. And I would have you<!-- Page 405 --> +proud also and equally ambitious for your child. Let him be the +Duke of Brotherton. Let him be brought up to be one of England's +statesmen, if God shall give him intellect for the work. Let him be +seen with the George and Garter, and be known throughout Europe +as one of England's worthiest worthies. Though not born as yet his +career should already be a care to you. And that he may be great +you should rejoice that you yourself are great already."</p> + +<p>After that he went away, leaving messages for Lord George and the +family. He bade her tell Lady Sarah that he would not intrude on +the present occasion, but that he hoped to be allowed to see the ladies +of the family very shortly after the funeral.</p> + +<p>Poor Mary could not but be bewildered by the difference of the two +lessons she had received on this the first day of her assured honours. +And she was the more perplexed because both her instructors had +appeared to her to be right in their teaching. The pagan exaltation +of her father at the death of his enemy she could put on one side, excusing +it by the remembrance of the terrible insult which she knew that +he had received. But the upshot of his philosophy she did receive +as true, and she declared to herself that she would harbour in her heart +of hearts the lessons which he had given her as to her own child, +lessons which must be noble as they tended to the well-being of the +world at large. To make her child able to do good to others, to +assist in making him able and anxious to do so,—to train him from the +first in that way,—what wish could be more worthy of a mother than +this? But yet the humility and homely carefulness inculcated by +Lady Sarah,—was not that lesson also true? Assuredly yes! And +yet how should she combine the two?</p> + +<p>She was unaware that within herself there was a power, a certain +intellectual alembic of which she was quite unconscious, by which she +could distil the good of each, and quietly leave the residuum behind +her as being of no moment.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXII" id="CHAPTER_LXII"></a>CHAPTER LXII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">THE WILL.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">Lord George</span> came back to England as quick as the trains would +carry him, and with him came the sad and mournful burden which had +to be deposited in the vaults of the parish church at Manor Cross. +There must be a decent tombstone now that the life was gone, with +decent words upon it and a decent effigy,—even though there had been +nothing decent in the man's life. The long line of past Marquises +must be perpetuated, and Frederic Augustus, the tenth peer of the<!-- Page 406 --> +name, must be made to lie with the others. Lord George, therefore,—for +he was still Lord George till after the funeral,—travelled with +his sad burden, some deputy undertaker having special charge of it, +and rested for a few hours in London. Mr. Knox met him in Mr. +Stokes' chambers, and there he learned that his brother, who had +made many wills in his time, had made one last will just before he +left London, after his return from Rudham Park. Mr. Stokes took +him aside and told him that he would find the will to be unfavourable. +"I thought the property was entailed," said Lord George very calmly. +Mr. Stokes assented, with many assurances as to the impregnability of +the family acres and the family houses; but added that there was +money, and that the furniture had belonged to the late Marquis to +dispose of as he pleased. "It is a matter of no consequence," said +Lord George,—whom the loss of the money and furniture did not in +truth at all vex.</p> + +<p>Early on the following morning he went down to Brotherton, leaving +the undertakers to follow him as quickly as they might. He could +enter the house now, and to him as he was driven home under the +oaks no doubt there came some idea of his own possession of them. +But the idea was much less vivid than the Dean's, and was chiefly +confined to the recollection that no one could now turn him out of the +home in which he had been born and in which his mother and sisters +and wife were living. Had his elder brother been a man of whom he +could have been proud, I almost think he would have been more contented +as a younger brother. "It is over at last" were the first words +he said to his wife, not finding it to be more important that his greatness +was beginning than that his humiliation should be brought to +an end.</p> + +<p>The funeral took place with all the state that undertakers could give +to it in a little village, but with no other honours. Lord George was +the chief mourner and almost the only one. One or two neighbours +came,—Mr. De Baron, from Rudham Park, and such of the farmers +as had been long on the land, among them being Mr. Price. But +there was one person among the number whom no one had expected. +This was Jack De Baron. "He has been mentioned in the will," said +Mr. Stokes very gravely to Lord George, "and perhaps you would +not object to my asking him to be present." Lord George did not +object, though certainly Captain De Baron was the last person whom +he would have thought of asking to Manor Cross on any occasion. He +was made welcome, however, with a grave courtesy.</p> + +<p>"What on earth has brought you here?" said old Mr. De Baron to +his cousin.</p> + +<p>"Don't in the least know! Got a letter from a lawyer, saying I +had better come. Thought everybody was to be here who had ever +seen him."</p> + +<p>"He hasn't left you money, Jack," said Mr. De Baron.<!-- Page 407 --></p> + +<p>"What will you give for my chance?" said Jack. But Mr. De +Baron, though he was much given to gambling speculations, did not +on this occasion make an offer.</p> + +<p>After the funeral, which was sadder even than funerals are in +general though no tear was shed, the will was read in the library at +Manor Cross, Lord George being present, together with Mr. Knox, +Mr. Stokes and the two De Barons. The Dean might have wished to +be there; but he had written early on that morning an affectionate +letter to his son-in-law, excusing himself from being present at the +funeral. "I think you know," he had said, "that I would do anything +either to promote your welfare or to gratify your feelings, but +there had unfortunately been that between me and the late Marquis +which would make my attendance seem to be a mockery." He did +not go near Manor Cross on that day; but no one knew better than +he,—not even Mr. Knox himself,—that the dead lord had possessed +no power of alienating a stick or a brick upon the property. The will +was very short, and the upshot of it was that every shilling of which +the Marquis died possessed, together with his house at Como and the +furniture contained in the three houses, was left to our old friend Jack +De Baron. "I took the liberty," said Mr. Stokes, "to inform his +lordship that should he die before his wife, his widow would be entitled +to a third of his personal property. He replied that whatever +his widow could claim by law, she could get without any act of his. I +mention this, as Captain De Baron may perhaps be willing that the +widow of the late Marquis may be at once regarded as possessed of a +third of the property."</p> + +<p>"Quite so," said Jack, who had suddenly become as solemn and +funereal as Mr. Stokes himself. He was now engaged to Guss Mildmay +with a vengeance!</p> + +<p>When the solemnity of the meeting was over, Lord George,—or the +Marquis, as he must now be called,—congratulated the young heir +with exquisite grace. "I was so severed from my brother of late," +he said, "that I had not known of the friendship."</p> + +<p>"Never saw him in my life till I met him down at Rudham," said +Jack. "I was civil to him there because he seemed to be ill. He +sent me once to fetch a ten-pound note. I thought it odd, but I went. +After that he seemed to take to me a good deal."</p> + +<p>"He took to you to some purpose, Captain De Baron. As to me, +I did not want it, and certainly should not have got it. You need +not for a moment think that you are robbing us."</p> + +<p>"That is so good of you!" said Jack, whose thoughts, however, +were too full of Guss Mildmay to allow of any thorough enjoyment of +his unexpected prosperity.</p> + +<p>"Stokes says that after the widow is paid and the legacy duty there +will be eight—and twenty—thousand pounds!" whispered Mr. De +Baron to his relative. "By heavens! you are a lucky fellow."<!-- Page 408 --></p> + +<p>"I am rather lucky."</p> + +<p>"It will be fourteen hundred a year, if you only look out for a good +investment. A man with ready money at his own disposal can always +get five per cent, at least. I never heard of such a fluke in my life."</p> + +<p>"It was a fluke, certainly."</p> + +<p>"You'll marry now and settle down, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I shall," said Jack. "One has to come to that kind of +thing at last. I knew when I was going to Rudham that some d—— +thing would come of it. Oh,—of course I'm awfully glad. It's sure +to come sooner or later, and I suppose I've had my run. I've just +seen Stokes, and he says I'm to go to him in about a month's time. I +thought I should have got some of it to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"My dear fellow, I can let you have a couple of hundreds, if you +want them," said Mr. De Baron, who had never hitherto been induced +to advance a shilling when his young cousin had been needy.</p> + +<p>Mr. Stokes, Mr. Knox, Mr. De Baron and the heir went away, +leaving the family to adjust their own affairs in their new position. +Then Mary received a third lecture as she sat leaning upon her husband's +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"At any rate, you won't have to go away any more," she had said +to him. "You have been always away, for ever so long."</p> + +<p>"It was you who would go to the deanery when you left London."</p> + +<p>"I know that. Of course I wanted to see papa then. I don't want +to talk about that any more. Only, you won't go away again?"</p> + +<p>"When I do you shall go with me."</p> + +<p>"That won't be going away. Going away is taking yourself off,—by +yourself."</p> + +<p>"Could I help it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I could have gone with you. But it's over now, +isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"I hope so."</p> + +<p>"It shall be over. And when this other trouble is done,—you'll go +to London then?"</p> + +<p>"It will depend on your health, dear."</p> + +<p>"I am very well. Why shouldn't I be well? When a month is +over,—then you'll go."</p> + +<p>"In two months, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"That'll be the middle of June. I'm sure I shall be well in three +weeks. And where shall we go? We'll go to Munster Court,—shan't +we?"</p> + +<p>"As soon as the house is ready in St. James' Square, we must go +there."</p> + +<p>"Oh! George,—I do so hate that house in St. James' Square. I +shall never be happy there. It's like a prison."</p> + +<p>Then he gave her his lecture. "My love, you should not talk of +hating things that are necessary."<!-- Page 409 --></p> + +<p>"But why is St. James' Square necessary?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is the town residence belonging to the family. Munster +Court was very well for us as we were before. Indeed, it was much +too good, as I felt every hour that I was there. It was more than we +could afford without drawing upon your father for assistance."</p> + +<p>"But he likes being drawn upon," said Mary. "I don't think +there is anything papa likes so much as to be drawn upon."</p> + +<p>"That could make no difference to me, my dear. I don't think +that as yet you understand money matters."</p> + +<p>"I hope I never shall, then."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will. It will be your duty to do so. But, as I was +saying, the house at Munster Court will be unsuitable to you as Lady +Brotherton." On hearing this Mary pouted and made a grimace. +"There is a dignity to be borne which, though it may be onerous, +must be supported."</p> + +<p>"I hate dignity."</p> + +<p>"You would not say that if you knew how it vexed me. Could I +have chosen for myself personally, perhaps, neither would I have +taken this position. I do not think that I am by nature ambitious. +But a man is bound to do his duty in that position in which he finds +himself placed,—and so is a woman."</p> + +<p>"And it will be my duty to live in an ugly house?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps the house may be made less ugly; but to live in it will +certainly be a part of your duty. And if you love me, Mary——"</p> + +<p>"Do you want me to tell you whether I love you?"</p> + +<p>"But, loving me as I know you do, I am sure you will not neglect +your duty. Do not say again that you hate your dignity. You must +never forget now that you are Marchioness of Brotherton."</p> + +<p>"I never shall, George."</p> + +<p>"That is right, my dear," he said, omitting to understand the little +satire conveyed in her words. "It will come easy to you before long. +But I would have all the world feel that you are the mistress of the +rank to which you have been raised. Of course, it has been different +hitherto," he said, endeavouring in his own mind to excuse the indiscretion +of that Kappa-kappa. This lecture also she turned to wholesome +food and digested, obtaining from it some strength and throwing +off the bombast by which a weaker mind might have been inflated. +She understood, at any rate, that St. James' Square must be her +doom; but while acknowledging this to herself, she made a little resolution +that a good deal would have to be done to the house before it +was ready for her reception, and that the doing would require a considerable +time.</p> + +<p>When she heard the purport of the late lord's will she was much +surprised,—more surprised, probably, than Jack himself. Why should +a man who was so universally bad,—such a horror,—leave his money +to one who was so—so—so good as Jack De Baron. The epithet came<!-- Page 410 --> +to her at last in preference to any other. And what would he do now? +George had told her that the sum would be very large, and of course +he could marry if he pleased. At any rate he would not go to Perim. +The idea that he should go to Perim had made her uncomfortable. +Perhaps he had better marry Guss Mildmay. She was not quite all +that his wife should be; but he had said that he would do so in certain +circumstances. Those circumstances had come round and it was +right that he should keep his word. And yet it made her somewhat +melancholy to think that he should marry Guss Mildmay.</p> + +<p>Very shortly after this, and when she was becoming aware that the +event which ought to have taken place on the 1st of April would not +be much longer delayed, there came home to her various things containing +lectures almost as severe, and perhaps more eloquent than +those she had received from her sister, her father, and her husband. +There was an infinity of clothes which someone had ordered for her, +and on all the things which would bear a mark, there was a coronet. +The coronets on the pockethandkerchiefs seemed to be without end. +And there was funereal note-paper, on which the black edges were +not more visible than the black coronets. And there came invoices to +her from the tradesmen, addressed to the Marchioness of Brotherton. +And then there came the first letter from her father with her rank and +title on the envelope. At first she was almost afraid to open it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXIII" id="CHAPTER_LXIII"></a>CHAPTER LXIII.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">POPENJOY IS BORN—AND CHRISTENED.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">At</span> last, not much above a week after the calculations, in all the +glory of the purple of Manor Cross, the new Popenjoy was born. For +it was a Popenjoy. The Fates, who had for some time past been unpropitious +to the house of Brotherton, now smiled; and Fortune, who +had been good to the Dean throughout, remained true to him also in +this. The family had a new heir, a real Popenjoy; and the old Marchioness +when the baby was shown to her for awhile forgot her +sorrows and triumphed with the rest.</p> + +<p>The Dean's anxiety had been so great that he had insisted on remaining +at the house. It had been found impossible to refuse such a +request made at such a time. And now, at last, the ladies at Manor +Cross gradually forgave the Dean his offences. To the old dowager +they did not mention his name, and she probably forgot his existence; +but the Marquis appeared to live with him on terms of perfect friendship, +and the sisters succumbed to the circumstances and allowed +themselves to talk to him as though he were in truth the father of the +reigning Marchioness.<!-- Page 411 --></p> + +<p>It will be understood that for forty-eight hours before the birth of +the child and for forty-eight hours afterwards all Manor Cross was +moved in the matter, as though this were the first male child born +into the world since the installation of some new golden age. It was a +great thing that, after all the recent troubles, a Popenjoy,—a proper +Popenjoy,—should be born at Manor Cross of English parents,—a +healthy boy,—a bouncing little lord, as Mrs. Toff called him; and the +event almost justified the prophetic spirit in which his grandmother +spoke of this new advent. "Little angel!" she said. "I know he'll +grow up to bring new honours to the family, and do as much for it as +his great-grandfather." The great-grandfather spoken of had been an +earl, great in borough-mongery, and had been made a marquis by +Pitt on the score of his votes. "George," she went on to say, "I do +hope there will be bells and bonfires, and that the tenants will be +allowed to see him." There were bells and bonfires. But in these +days tenants are perhaps busier men than formerly, and have less in +them certainly of the spirit of heir-worship than their fathers. But +Mr. Price, with his bride, did come down and see the baby; on which +occasion the gallant husband bade his wife remember that although +they had been married more than twelve months after Lord George, +their baby would only be three months younger. Whereupon Mrs. +Price boxed her husband's ears,—to the great delight of Mrs. Toff, +who was dispensing sherry and cherry brandy in her own sitting-room.</p> + +<p>The Dean's joy, though less ecstatic in its expression, was quite as +deep and quite as triumphant as that of the Marchioness. When he +was admitted for a moment to his daughter's bedside, the tears rolled +down his face as he prayed for a blessing for her and her baby. Lady +Sarah was in the room, and began to doubt whether she had read the +man's character aright. There was an ineffable tenderness about him, +a sweetness of manners, a low melody of voice, a gracious solemnity +in which piety seemed to be mingled with his love and happiness! +That he was an affectionate father had been always known; but now +it had to be confessed that he bore himself as though he had sprung +from some noble family or been the son and grandson of archbishops. +How it would have been with him on such an occasion had his +daughter married some vicar of Pugsty, as she had herself once +suggested, Lady Sarah did not now stop to enquire. It was reasonable +to Lady Sarah that the coming of a Popenjoy should be hailed +with greater joy and receive a warmer welcome than the birth of +any ordinary baby. "You have had a good deal to bear, Brotherton," +he said, holding his noble son-in-law by the hand; "but I think +that this will compensate for it all." The tears were still in his eyes, +and they were true tears,—tears of most unaffected joy. He had seen +the happy day; and as he told himself in words which would have +been profane had they been absolutely uttered, he was now ready to<!-- Page 412 --> +die in peace. Not that he meant to die, or thought that he should die. +That vision of young Popenjoy, bright as a star, beautiful as a young +Apollo, with all the golden glories of the aristocracy upon his head, +standing up in the House of Commons and speaking to the world at +large with modest but assured eloquence, while he himself occupied +some corner in the gallery, was still before his eyes.</p> + +<p>After all, who shall say that the man was selfish? He was contented +to shine with a reflected honour. Though he was wealthy, he never +desired grand doings at the deanery. In his own habits he was simple. +The happiness of his life had been to see his daughter happy. His +very soul had smiled within him when she had smiled in his presence. +But he had been subject to one weakness, which had marred a manliness +which would otherwise have been great. He, who should have +been proud of the lowliness of his birth, and have known that the +brightest feather in his cap was the fact that having been humbly +born he had made himself what he was,—he had never ceased to be +ashamed of the stable-yard. And as he felt himself to be degraded by +that from which he had sprung, so did he think that the only whitewash +against such dirt was to be found in the aggrandisement of his +daughter and the nobility of her children. He had, perhaps, been +happier than he deserved. He might have sold her to some lord who +would have scorned her after a while and despised himself. As it was, +the Marquis, who was his son-in-law, was a man whom upon the whole +he could well trust. Lord George had indeed made one little error in +regard to Mrs. Houghton; but that had passed away and would not +probably be repeated.</p> + +<p>Of all those closely concerned in the coming of Popenjoy the father +seemed to bear the greatness of the occasion with the most modesty. +When the Dean congratulated him he simply smiled and expressed a +hope that Mary would do well in her troubles. Poor Mary's welfare +had hitherto been almost lost in the solicitude for her son. "She +can't but do well now," said the Dean, who of all men was the most +sanguine. "She is thoroughly healthy, and nothing has been amiss."</p> + +<p>"We must be very careful—that's all," said the Marquis. Hitherto +he had not brought his tongue to speak of his son as Popenjoy, and +did not do so for many a day to come. That an heir had been born +was very well; but of late the name of Popenjoy had not been sweet +to his ears.</p> + +<p>Nothing had gone amiss, and nothing did go amiss. When it was +decided that the young Marchioness was to nurse her own baby,—a +matter which Mary took into her own hands with a very high tone,—the +old Marchioness became again a little troublesome. She had her +memories about it all in her own time; how she had not been able to +do as Mary was doing. She remembered all that, and how unhappy +it had made her; but she remembered also that, had she done so for +Popenjoy, Sir Henry would have insisted on three pints of porter.<!-- Page 413 --> +Then Mary rebelled altogether, and talked of drinking nothing but +tea,—and would not be brought to consent even to bitter beer without +a great deal of trouble. But, through it all, the mother throve and +the baby throve; and when the bonfires had been all burned and the +bells had been all rung, and the child had been shown to such tenants +and adherents and workmen as desired to see him, the family settled +down to a feeling of permanent satisfaction.</p> + +<p>And then came the christening. Now in spite of the permanent +satisfaction there were troubles,—troubles of which the Marquis became +conscious very soon, and which he was bound to communicate to his +sister,—troubles of which the Dean was unfortunately cognisant, and +of which he would speak and with which he would concern him,—much +to the annoyance of the Marquis. The will which the late man +had made was a serious temporary embarrassment. There was no +money with which to do anything. The very bed on which the mother +lay with her baby belonged to Jack De Baron. They were absolutely +drinking Jack De Baron's port wine, and found, when the matter came +to be considered, that they were making butter from Jack De Baron's +cows. This could not be long endured. Jack, who was now bound to +have a lawyer of his own, had very speedily signified his desire that +the family should be put to no inconvenience, and had declared that +any suggestion from the Marquis as to the house in town or that in +the country would be a law to him. But it was necessary that everything +should be valued at once, and either purchased or given up to +be sold to those who would purchase it. There was, however, no +money, and the Marquis who hated the idea of borrowing was told +that he must go among the money-lenders. Then the Dean proposed +that he and Miss Tallowax between them might be able to advance +what was needed. The Marquis shook his head and said nothing. The +proposition had been very distasteful to him.</p> + +<p>Then there came another proposition. But it will be right in the first +place to explain that the great question of godfather and godmother +had received much attention. His Royal Highness the Duke of +Windsor had signified through young Lord Brabazon that he would +stand as one of the sponsors. The honour had been very great, and +had of course been accepted at the moment. The Dean had hankered +much after the office, but had abstained from asking with a feeling +that should the request be refused a coolness would be engendered +which he himself would be unable to repress. It would have filled +him with delight to stand in his own cathedral as godfather to the +little Popenjoy; but he abstained, and soon heard that the Duke of +Dunstable, who was a distant cousin, was to be the colleague of His +Royal Highness. He smiled and said nothing of himself,—but thought +that his liberality might have been more liberally remembered.</p> + +<p>Just at this time Miss Tallowax arrived at the deanery, and on the +next morning the Dean came over to Manor Cross with a proposition<!-- Page 414 --> +from that lady. She would bestow twenty thousand pounds immediately +upon Popenjoy, and place it for instant use in the father's +hands, on condition that she might be allowed to stand as godmother!</p> + +<p>"We could not consent to accept the money," said the Marquis very +gravely.</p> + +<p>"Why not? Mary is her nearest living relative in that generation. +As a matter of course, she will leave her money to Mary or her children,—unless +she be offended. Nothing is so common as for old +people with liberal hearts to give away the money which they must +soon leave behind them. A more generous creature than my old aunt +doesn't live."</p> + +<p>"Very generous; but I am afraid we cannot accept it."</p> + +<p>"After all, it is only an empty honour. I would not ask it for +myself because I knew how you might be situated. But I really +think you might gratify the old lady. Twenty thousand pounds is an +important sum, and would be so useful just at present!"</p> + +<p>This was true, but the father at the moment declined. The Dean, +however, who knew his man, determined that the money should not +be lost, and communicated with Mr. Knox. Mr. Knox came down to +Manor Cross and held a long consultation at which both the Dean and +Lady Sarah were present. "Let it be granted," said the Dean, "that +it is a foolish request; but are you justified in refusing twenty thousand +pounds offered to Popenjoy?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said Lady Sarah, "if the twenty thousand pounds is +a bribe."</p> + +<p>"But it is no bribe, Lady Sarah," said Mr. Knox. "It is not unreasonable +that Miss Tallowax should give her money to her great-nephew, +nor is it unreasonable that she should ask for this honour, seeing that +she is the child's great-aunt." There was a strong opposition to Miss +Tallowax's liberal offer,—but in the end it was accepted. The twenty +thousand pounds was important, and, after all, the godmother could +do no lasting injury to the child. Then it was discovered that the +offer was clogged with a further stipulation. The boy must be +christened Tallowax! To this father and mother and aunts all objected, +swearing that they would not subject their young Popenjoy to +so great an injury,—till it was ascertained that the old lady did not +insist on Tallowax as a first name, or even as a second. It would +suffice that Tallowax should be inserted among others. It was at last +decided that the boy should be christened Frederic Augustus Tallowax. +Thus he became Frederic Augustus Tallowax Germain,—commonly to +be called, by the Queen's courtesy, Lord Popenjoy. The christening +itself was not very august, as neither the Royal Duke nor his fellow +attended in person. The Dean stood proxy for the one, and Canon +Holdenough for the other.</p> + +<p>Mary by this time was able to leave her room, and was urgent with +her husband to take her up to London. Had she not been very good,<!-- Page 415 --> +and done all that she was told,—except in regard to the porter? And +was it not manifest to everybody that she would be able to travel +to St. Petersburg and back if such a journey were required? Her +husband assured her that she would be knocked up before she got half-way. +"But London isn't a tenth part of the distance," said Mary, +with a woman's logic. Then it was settled that on May 20th she should +be taken with her baby to Munster Court. The following are a few of +the letters of congratulation which she received during the period of +her convalescence.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<div class="start"> +<span class="letterstart smcap">"Grosvenor Place.<br></span> +</div> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Marchioness</span>,—Of course I have heard all about you +from time to time, and of course I have been delighted. In the first +place, we none of us could grieve very much for that unfortunate +brother of yours. Really it was so very much better for everybody +that Lord George should have the title and property,—not to talk of +all the advantage which the world expects from a young and fascinating +Lady Brotherton. I am told that the scaffolding is already up in St. +James' Square. I drove through the place the other day, and bethought +myself how long it might be before I should receive the +honour of a card telling me that on such and such a day the Marchioness +of Brotherton would be at home. I should not suggest such +a thing but for a dearly kind expression in your last letter.</p> + +<p>"But the baby of course is the first object. Pray tell me what sort +of a baby it is. Two arms and two legs, I know, for even a young +Lord Popenjoy is not allowed to have more; but of his special graces +you might send me a catalogue, if you have as yet been allowed pen +and paper. I can believe that a good deal of mild tyranny would go +on with those estimable sisters, and that Lord George would be +anxious. I beg his pardon,—the Marquis. Don't you find this second +change in your name very perplexing,—particularly in regard to your +linen? All your nice wedding things will have become wrong so soon!</p> + +<p>"And now I can impart a secret. There are promises of a little +Giblet. Of course it is premature to speak with certainty; but why +shouldn't there be a little Giblet as well as a little Popenjoy? Only it +won't be a Giblet as long as dear old Lord Gossling can keep the gout +out of his stomach. They say that in anger at his son's marriage he +has forsworn champagne and confines himself to two bottles of claret +a-day. But Giblet, who is the happiest young man of my acquaintance, +says that his wife is worth it all.</p> + +<p>"And so our friend the Captain is a millionaire! What will he do? +Wasn't it an odd will? I couldn't be altogether sorry, for I have a +little corner in my heart for the Captain, and would have left him +something myself if I had anything to leave. I really think he had +better marry his old love. I like justice, and that would be just. He +would do it to-morrow if you told him. It might take me a month of +hard work. How much is it he gets? I hear such various sums,<!-- Page 416 -->—from +a hundred thousand down to as many hundreds. Nevertheless, +the will proves the man to have been mad,—as I always said he was.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you'll come to Munster Court till the house in the square +be finished. Or will you take some furnished place for a month or +two? Munster Court is small; but it was very pretty, and I hope I +may see it again.</p> + +<p>"Kiss the little Popenjoy for me, and believe me to be,</p> + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature1">"Dear Lady Brotherton,<br></span> +<span class="presignature2" style="padding-top:.25em;">"Your affectionate old friend,<br></span> +<span class="smcap presignature3">"G. Montacute Jones."<br></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The next was from their friend the Captain himself.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Lady Brotherton</span>,—I hope it won't be wrong in me to +congratulate you on the birth of your baby. I do so with all my heart. +I hope that some day, when I am an old fogy, I may be allowed to +know him and remind him that in old days I used to know his mother. +I was down at Manor Cross the other day; but of course on such an +occasion I could not see you. I was sent for because of that strange +will; but it was more strange to me that I should so soon find myself +in your house. It was not very bright on that occasion.</p> + +<p>"I wonder who was surprised most by the will,—you or I?" Mary, +when she read this, declared to herself that she ought not to have been +surprised at all. How could anyone be surprised by what such a man +as that might do?</p> + +<p><a name="tn_pg_425"></a><!-- TN: new paragraph added here-->"He had never seen me, as far as I know, till he +met me at Rudham. I did not want his money,—though I was poor +enough. I don't know what I shall do now; but I shan't go to Perim.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Jones says you will soon be in town. I hope I may be +allowed to call.</p> + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature1">"Believe me always,<br></span> +<span class="presignature2" style="padding-top:.25em;">"Most sincerely yours,<br></span> +<span class="smcap presignature3">"John De Baron."<br></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Both those letters gave her pleasure, and both she answered. To all +Mrs. Jones' enquiries she gave very full replies, and enjoyed her jokes +with her old friend. She hinted that she did not at all intend to +hurry the men at St. James' Square, and that certainly she would be +found in Munster Court till the men had completed their work. As +to what their young friend would do with his money she could say +nothing. She could not undertake the commission,—though perhaps +that might be best,—and so on. Her note to Jack was very short. +She thanked him heartily for his good wishes, and told him the day on +which she would be in Munster Court. Then in a postscript she said +that she was "<i>very, very glad</i>" that he had inherited the late lord's +money.</p> + +<p>The other letter offended her as much as those two had pleased her.<!-- Page 417 --> +It offended her so much that when she saw the handwriting she would +not have read it but that curiosity forbade her to put it on one side. +It was from Adelaide Houghton, and as she opened it there was a +sparkle of anger in her eyes which perhaps none of her friends had ever +seen there. This letter was as follows;—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Lady Brotherton</span>,—Will you not at length allow bygones +to be bygones? What can a poor woman do more than beg pardon +and promise never to be naughty again. Is it worth while that we +who have known each other so long should quarrel about what really +amounted to nothing? It was but a little foolish romance, the echo of +a past feeling,—a folly if you will, but innocent. I own my fault +and put on the sackcloth and ashes of confession, and, after that, +surely you will give me absolution.</p> + +<p>"And now, having made my apology, which I trust will be accepted, +pray let me congratulate you on all your happiness. The death of +your poor brother-in-law of course we have all expected. Mr. +Houghton had heard a month before that it was impossible that he +should live. Of course, we all feel that the property has fallen into +much better hands. And I am so glad that you have a boy. Dear +little Popenjoy! Do, do forgive me, so that I may have an opportunity +of kissing him. I am, at any rate,</p> + +<div class="closing"> +<span class="presignature2">"Your affectionate old friend,<br></span> +<span class="smcap presignature3">"Adelaide Houghton."<br></span> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Affectionate old friend! Serpent! Toad! Nasty degraded painted +Jezebel! Forgive her! No,—never; not though she were on her +knees! She was contemptible before, but doubly contemptible in +that she could humble herself to make an apology so false, so feeble, +and so fawning. It was thus that she regarded her correspondent's +letter. Could any woman who knew that love-letters had been written +to her husband by another woman forgive that other? We are all +conscious of trespassers against ourselves whom we especially bar when +we say our prayers. Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive them +who trespass against us,—excepting Jones who has committed the one +sin that we will not forgive, that we ought not to forgive. Is there +not that sin against the Holy Ghost to justify us? This was the sin +that Mary could not forgive. The disgusting woman,—for to Mary +the woman was now absolutely disgusting,—had attempted to take +from her the heart of her husband! There was a good deal of evidence +also against her husband, but that she had quite forgotten. She +did not in the least believe that Adelaide was preferred to herself. +Her husband had eyes, and could see,—a heart, and could feel,—an +understanding, and could perceive. She was not in the least afraid as +to her husband. But nothing on earth should induce her to forgive<!-- Page 418 --> +Mrs. Houghton. She thought for a moment whether it was worth her +while to show the letter to the Marquis, and then tore it into fragments +and threw the pieces away.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_LXIV" id="CHAPTER_LXIV"></a>CHAPTER LXIV.</h2> + +<p class="chapterhead">CONCLUSION.</p> + + +<p><span class="firstwords">It</span> is now only necessary that we should collect together the few +loose threads of our story which require to be tied lest the pieces +should become unravelled in the wear. Of our hero, Lord Popenjoy, +it need only be said that when we last heard of him he was a very +healthy and rather mischievous boy of five years old, who tyrannised +over his two little sisters,—the Lady Mary and the Lady Sarah. +Those, however, who look most closely to his character think that they +can see the germs of that future success which his grandfather so +earnestly desires for him. His mother is quite sure that he will live +to be Prime Minister, and has already begun to train him for that +office. The house in Munster Court has of course been left, and the +Marchioness was on one occasion roused into avowing that the family +mansion is preferable. But then the family mansion has been so +changed that no Germain of a former generation would know it. The +old Dowager who still lives at Manor Cross has never seen the change, +but Lady Sarah, who always spends a month or two in town, pretends +to disbelieve that it is the same house. One of the events in Mary's +life which astonishes her most is the perfect friendship which exists between +her and her eldest sister-in-law. She corresponds regularly with +Lady Sarah, and is quite content to have her letters filled with the many +ailments and scanty comforts of the poor people on the estate. Lady +Sarah is more than content to be able to love the mother of the heir, +and she does love her, and the boy too, with all her heart. Now that +there is a Popenjoy,—a coming Brotherton, of whom she can be proud, +she finds nothing in her own life with which she ought to quarrel. +The Ladies Susanna and Amelia also come up to town every year, very +greatly to their satisfaction, and are most devoted to the young Marchioness. +But the one guest who is honoured above all others in St. +James' Square, for whose comfort everything is made to give way, +whom not to treat with loving respect is to secure a banishment from +the house, whom all the servants are made to regard as a second +master, is the Dean. His lines have certainly fallen to him in pleasant +places. No woman in London is more courted and more popular than +the Marchioness of Brotherton, and consequently the Dean spends +his two months in London very comfortably. But perhaps the +happiest period of his life is the return visit which his daughter always<!-- Page 419 --> +makes to him for a fortnight during the winter. At this period the +Marquis will generally pass a couple of days at the deanery, but for +the greater part of the time the father and daughter are alone together. +Then he almost worships her. Up in London he allows himself to be +worshipped with an exquisite grace. To Mrs. Houghton the Marchioness +has never spoken, and on that subject she is inexorable. +Friends have interceded, but such intercession has only made matters +worse. Of what nature must the woman be who could speak to any +friend of such an offence as she had committed? The Marchioness, in +refusing to be reconciled, has never alluded to the cause of her anger, +but has shown her anger plainly and has persistently refused to +abandon it.</p> + +<p>The Marquis has become a model member of the House of Lords. +He is present at all their sittings, and is indefatigably patient on Committees,—but +very rarely speaks. In this way he is gradually gaining +weight in the country, and when his hair is quite grey and his step +less firm than at present, he will be an authority in Parliament. He +is also a pattern landlord, listening to all complaints, and endeavouring +in everything to do justice between himself and those who are dependent +on him. He is also a pattern father, expecting great things +from Popenjoy, and resolving that the child shall be subjected to +proper discipline as soon as he is transferred from feminine to virile +teaching. In the meantime the Marchioness reigns supreme in the +nursery,—as it is proper that she should do.</p> + +<p>The husband now never feels himself called upon to remind his +wife to support her dignity. Since the dancing of the Kappa-kappa +she has never danced, except when on grand occasions she has walked +through a quadrille with some selected partner of special rank; and +this she does simply as a duty. Nevertheless, in society she is very +gay and very joyous. But dancing has been a peril to her, and she +avoids it altogether, pleading to such friends as Mrs. Jones that a +woman with a lot of babies is out of place capering about a room. +Mrs. Jones remembers the Kappa-kappa and says little or nothing on +the subject, but she heartily dissents from her friend, and still hopes +that there may be a good time coming. The Marquis remembers it +all, too, and is thoroughly thankful to his wife, showing his gratitude +every now and then by suggesting that Captain and Mrs. De Baron +may be asked to dinner. He knows that there is much for which he +has to be grateful. Though the name of Mrs. Houghton is never on +his tongue, he has not forgotten the way in which he went astray in +Berkeley Square,—nor the sweet reticence of his wife, who has never +thrown his fault in his teeth since that day on which, at his bidding, +she took the letter from his pocket and read it. No man in London is +better satisfied with his wife than the Marquis, and perhaps no man +in London has better cause to be satisfied.</p> + +<p>Yes! Captain De Baron—and his wife—do occasionally dine to<!-- Page 420 -->gether +in St. James' Square. Whether it was that Mrs. Montacute +Jones was successful in her efforts, or that Guss was enabled to found +arguments on Jack's wealth which Jack was unable to oppose, or that +a sense of what was due to the lady prevailed with him at last, he did +marry her about a twelvemonth after the reading of the will. When +the Marchioness came to town,—before Popenjoy was born,—he +called, and was allowed to see her. Nothing could be more respectful +than was his demeanour then, nor than it had been ever since; and +when he announced to his friend, as he did in person, that he was +about to be married to Miss Mildmay, she congratulated him with +warmth, not saying a word as to past occurrences. But she determined +that she would ever be his friend, and for his sake she has +become friendly also to his wife. She never really liked poor Guss,—nor +perhaps does the Captain. But there have been no quarrels, at +any rate, no public quarrels, and Jack has done his duty in a manner +that rather surprised his old acquaintances. But he is a much altered +man, and is growing fat, and has taken to playing whist at his club +before dinner for shilling points. I have always thought that in his +heart of hearts he regrets the legacy.</p> + +<p>Whether to spite his son, or at the urgent entreaty of his wife and +doctors, Lord Gossling has of late been so careful, that the gout has not +had a chance of getting into his stomach. Lord Giblet professes himself +to be perfectly satisfied with things as they are. He has already +four children. He lives in a small house in Green Street, and is a +member of the Entomological Society. He is so strict in his attendance +that it is thought that he will some day be president. But the +old lord does not like this turn in his son's life, and says that the +family of De Geese must be going to the dogs when the heir has +nothing better to do than to attend to insects.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Montacute Jones gives as many parties as ever in Grosvenor +Place, and is never so well pleased as when she can get the Marchioness +of Brotherton to her house. She is still engaged in matrimonial +pursuits, and is at the present moment full of an idea that the +minister from Saxony, who is a fine old gentleman of sixty, but a +bachelor, may be got to marry Lady Amelia Germain. Mary assures +her that there isn't the least chance,—that Amelia would certainly not +accept him,—and that an old German of sixty, used to diplomacy all +his life, is the last man in the world to be led into difficulties. But +Mrs. Jones never gives way in such matters, and has already made the +plans for a campaign at Killancodlem next August.</p> + +<p>I regret to state that Messrs. Snape and Cashett have persecuted +the poor Baroness most cruelly. They have contrived to show that +the lady has not only got into their debt, but has also swindled them,—swindled +them according to law,—and consequently they have been +able to set all the police of the continent on her track. She had no +sooner shown her face back in Germany, than they were upon her.<!-- Page 421 --> +For a while she escaped, rushing from one country to another, but at +last she was arrested on a platform in Oregon, and is soon about to +stand her trial in an English Court. As a good deal of sympathy has +been expressed in her favour, and as Mr. Philogunac Cœlebs has taken +upon himself the expense of her defence, it is confidently hoped in +many quarters that no jury will convict her. In the meantime, Dr. +Fleabody has, I am told, married a store-keeper in New York, and +has settled down into a good mother of a family.</p> + +<p>At Manor Cross during the greater portion of the year things go +on very much as they used. The Marchioness is still living, and interests +herself chiefly in the children of her daughter-in-law,—born, +and to be born. But the great days of her life are those in which Popenjoy +is brought to her. The young scapegrace will never stay above +five minutes with his grandmother, but the old lady is sure that she +is regarded by him with a love passing the love of children. At +Christmas time, and for a week or two before, and a month or two +afterwards, the house is full of company and bright with unaccustomed +lights. Lady Sarah puts on her newest silk, and the Marchioness +allows herself to be brought into the drawing-room after dinner. But +at the end of February the young family flits to town, and then the +Manor Cross is as Manor Cross so long has been.</p> + +<p>Mr. Price still hunts, and is as popular in the country as ever. He +often boasts that although he was married much after the Marquis, +the youngest of his three children is older than Lady Mary. But +when he does this at home, his ears are always boxed for him.</p> + +<p>Of Mr. Groschut it is only necessary to say that he is still at +Pugsty, vexing the souls of his parishioners by Sabbatical denunciations.</p> + + +<h2>THE END</h2> + + + + + +<p class="center" style="margin-top:5em;">BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.</p><!-- Page 422 --> +<!-- Page 423 --> +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> + +<h2 style="font-size:2.5em;">ANTHONY TROLLOPE'S WORKS</h2> + +<h3 style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size:1.5em;">CHEAP EDITIONS.</h3> +<hr style="width: 10%;"> +<p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size:1.2em;" class="center"><i>3s. cloth, 2s. Picture Boards.</i></p> + +<table border="0" width="85%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="5" summary="List of Books" align="center"> +<tr valign="top"> +<td width="49%"> +<span class="adtext">DOCTOR THORNE.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">THE MACDERMOTS.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">RACHEL RAY.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">THE KELLYS.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">TALES OF ALL COUNTRIES.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">CASTLE RICHMOND.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">THE BERTRAMS.</span> +</td> +<TD style="border-left: 1px solid black; padding: 5px;"></td> +<td width="49%"> +<span class="adtext">MISS MACKENZIE.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">THE BELTON ESTATE.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">LOTTA SCHMIDT.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">AN EDITOR'S TALES.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">LA VENDÉE.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">LADY ANNA.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">VICAR OF BULLHAMPTON.</span> +</td> +</tr> + +</table> + +<hr style="width: 15%;"> + +<p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size:1.2em;" class="center"><i>2s. 6d. Vols., Picture Boards.</i></p> + +<table border="0" width="85%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="5" summary="List of Books" align="center"> + +<tr valign="top"> +<td width="49%"> +<span class="adtext">ORLEY FARM.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">CAN YOU FORGIVE HER?<br></span> +<span class="adtext">PHINEAS FINN.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT.</span> +</td><TD style="border-left: 1px solid black; padding: 5px;"></td> +<td width="49%"> +<span class="adtext">RALPH THE HEIR.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">EUSTACE DIAMONDS.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">PHINEAS REDUX.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">THE PRIME MINISTER.</span> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr style="width: 25%;"> + +<p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size:2em; font-weight:bold;" class="center">AUSTRALIA AND NEW ZEALAND.</p> + + + +<p class="center"><i><b>Now ready, PEOPLE'S EDITION, in 2s. Volumes.</b></i></p> +<div style="font-size:1.1em; margin-left:30%;"> +<p>NEW ZEALAND.</p> + +<p>VICTORIA AND TASMANIA.</p> + +<p>SOUTH AND WEST AUSTRALIA.</p> + +<p>N. S. WALES AND QUEENSLAND.</p> +</div> +<hr style="width: 20%;"> + +<p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size:1.25em; font-weight:bold;" class="center">LONDON; CHAPMAN & HALL, 193, PICCADILLY.</p> +<!-- Page 424 --> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<p style="font-size: 1em;font-weight:bold;" class="center">THE</p> + +<h3 style="font-size: 1.5em">SELECT LIBRARY OF FICTION EDITION</h3> + +<p style="font-size: .9em;font-weight:bold;" class="center">OF</p> + +<p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size:1.4em; font-weight:bold;" class="center">CHARLES LEVER'S WORKS.</p> + +<hr style="width: 10%;"> +<p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size:1.3em; font-weight:bold;" class="center"><i>Two Shilling Vols.</i></p> + + +<table border="0" width="85%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="5" summary="List of Books" align="center"> + +<tr valign="top" align="left"> +<td width="49%" align="left"> +<span class="adtext">JACK HINTON.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">HARRY LORREQUER.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">THE O'DONOGHUE.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">FORTUNES OF GLENCORE.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">ONE OF THEM.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">SIR JASPER CAREW.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">A DAY'S RIDE.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">MAURICE TIERNAY.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">BARRINGTON.</span> +</td><td style="border-left: 1px solid black; padding: 5px;"></td> +<td width="49%"><span class="adtext">LUTTRELL OF ARRAN.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">A RENT IN A CLOUD.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">SIR BROOK FOSSBROOKE.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">BRAMLEIGHS OF BISHOP'S FOLLY.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">TONY BUTLER.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">THAT BOY OF NORCOTT'S.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">LORD KILGOBBIN.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">CORNELIUS O'DOWD.</span></td> +</tr> + +<tr valign="top"> +<td width="49%" colspan="3"><span class="adcenter">NUTS AND NUTCRACKERS.</span></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<hr style="width: 10%;"> + +<p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size:1.3em; font-weight:bold;" class="center"><i>Half-Crown Vols.</i></p> + +<table border="0" width="85%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="5" summary="List of Books" align="center"> + +<tr valign="top" align="left"> +<td width="49%"> +<span class="adtext">CHARLES O'MALLEY.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">THE DALTONS.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">KNIGHT OF GWYNNE.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">DODD FAMILY ABROAD.</span> +</td> +<td style="border-left: 1px solid black; padding: 5px;"></td> +<td width="49%"> +<span class="adtext">TOM BURKE OF "OURS."<br></span> +<span class="adtext">DAVENPORT DUNN.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">ROLAND CASHEL.<br></span> +<span class="adtext">MARTINS OF CRO' MARTIN.</span> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr style="width: 20%;"> +<p style="font-family: sans-serif; font-size:1.25em; font-weight:bold;" class="center">LONDON; CHAPMAN & HALL, 193, PICCADILLY.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" class="newpg"> +<h2>Transcriber's Note</h2> + +<div style="margin-left:10%;margin-right:10%"> +<p>Inconsistent hyphenation of "a-head" / "ahead", +"farm-house" / "farmhouse", "fire-place" / "fireplace", "grand-daughter" / "granddaughter", +"high-spirited" / "highspirited", "ill-natured" / "illnatured", "note-paper" / "notepaper", +"play-fellow" / "playfellow", "half-a-dozen" / "half a dozen", and "cock-and-bull" / "cock and bull" + has been retained. Inconsistent capitalization of "Marchioness" has also been retained +as has the use of "grey" and "gray".</p> +<p>Here is a list of the minor typographical corrections made:</p> +</div> +<div style="margin-left:20%;margin-right:20%"> +<ul> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_2">Changed single quote to double after "MINISTER" on cover page.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_17">Capitalized "he" in "He is thirty" on page 8.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_25">Changed period to comma after "said" on page 16.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_34">"Sarahs" changed to "Sarah" on page 25.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_37">End quote added after "Italy" on page 28.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_38">Original reads "ill-dawn" instead of "ill-drawn" on page 29.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_38a">Quotation mark added before "when Brotherton came of age" on page 29.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_42">Original reads "andj" instead of "and" on page 33.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_57">Comma changed to period here after "closely" on page 48.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_65">Period added after "family" on page 46.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_69">Second "made" removed on page 60.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_73">End quote added after "quarrel" on page 64.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_83">End quote added after "cousin" on page 74.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_91">End quote added after "once" on page 82.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_92">End quote added after "boy" on page 83.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_116">Quotation mark added before "She would draw" on page 107.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_125">Removed second "was" on page 116.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_140">Double quote added before "We have been" on page 131.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_143">Original reads "de" instead of "he" on page 134.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_144">End quote added after "Sarah Germain" on page 135.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_146">Single quote changed to double after "duties." on page 137.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_150">Second "a" deleted on page 141.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_151">Original reads "intercouse" instead of "intercourse" on page 142.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_158">Original reads "musn't" instead of "mustn't" on page 149.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_163">Comma removed after "Lord George" on page 154.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_196">Single quote changed to double before "Ah" on page 187.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_201">Quotation added before "I feel like" on page 192.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_202">Comma changed to period after "undone" on page 193.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_202a">End quote added after "George," on page 193.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_208">Period changed to a comma after "it" on page 199.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_227">End quote added after "matter?" on page 218.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_232">End quote added after "ball." On page 223.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_246">On page 237, I have used blockquoted text similar to that used elsewhere in the text for correspondence.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_246a">New paragraph added before "B" on page 237.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_262">Period added after "herself" on page 253.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_267">Original reads "Dont" instead of "Don't" on page 258.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_302">Quotation mark removed from before "What" on page 293.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_304">End quote added after "happy." On page 295.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_310">Double quotes changed to single around "B." on page 301.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_320">Quotation mark added before "and unsay" on page 311.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_343">Comma changed to period after "Lord" on page 334.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_352">Original reads "dul" instead of "dull" on page 343.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_357">Period added after "out" on page 348.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_368">Original shows "s" instead of "is" on page 359.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_384">End quote added after "parish," on page 375.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_385">Quotation mark removed from before "It had been" on page 376.</a></li> +<li><a href="#tn_pg_425">New paragraph added before "He had never" on page 416.</a> +</ul> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IS HE POPENJOY?***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 29828-h.txt or 29828-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/9/8/2/29828">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/8/2/29828</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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